These are newsgroup postings and newspaper stories ...there's a lot of text here so I've forgone adding graphics. These will change semi-regularly, to provide an update on political issues of interest in Indian Country. You may also want to check some of the links on the Native American Links page for more information.

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April, 1513: Florida natives discovered Ponce de Leon lost and thirsty; de Leon shows appreciation by claiming territory for Spain.

Thanks-Giving

The year was 1637.....700 men, women and children of the Pequot Tribe, gathered for their "Annual Green Corn Dance" in the area that is now known as Groton, Conn.

While they were gathered in this place of meeting, they were surrounded and attacked by mercernaries of the English and Dutch. The Indians were ordered from the building and as they came forth, they were shot down. The rest were burned alive in the building.

The next day, the Governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony declared: "A day of Thanksgiving, thanking God that they had eliminited over 700 men, women and children." For the next 100 years, every "Thanksgiving Day" ordained by a Governor or President was to honor that victory, thanking God that the battle had been won. Source: Documents of Holland, 13 Volume Colonial Documentary History, letters and reports from colonial officials to their superiors and the King in England, and the private papers of Sir William Johnson, British Indian agent for the New York colony for 30 years.

T E A C H I N G   A B O U T   T H A N K S G I V I N G
Dr. Frank B. Brouillet Superintendent of Public Instruction State of Washington
Cheryl Chow Assistant Superintendent Division of Instructional Programs and Services
Warren H. Burton Director Office for Multicultural and Equity Education
Dr. Willard E. Bill Supervisor of Indian Education
Originally written and developed by Cathy Ross, Mary Robertson, Chuck Larsen, and Roger Fernandes Indian Education, Highline School District With an introduction by: Chuck Larsen Tacoma School District Printed: September, 1986 Reprinted: May, 1987

AN INTRODUCTION FOR TEACHERS This is a particularly difficult introduction to write. I have been a public schools teacher for twelve years, and I am also a historian and have written several books on American and Native American history. I also just happen to be Quebeque French, Metis, Ojibwa, and Iroquois. Because my Indian ancestors were on both sides of the struggle between the Puritans and the New England Indians and I am well versed in my cultural heritage and history both as an Anishnabeg (Algokin) and Hodenosione (Iroquois), it was felt that I could bring a unique insight to the project. For an Indian, who is also a school teacher, Thanksgiving was never an easy holiday for me to deal with in class. I sometimes have felt like I learned too much about "the Pilgrims and the Indians." Every year I have been faced with the professional and moral dilemma of just how to be honest and informative with my children at Thanksgiving without passing on historical distortions, and racial and cultural stereotypes. The problem is that part of what you and I learned in our own childhood about the "Pilgrims" and "Squanto" and the "First Thanksgiving" is a mixture of both history and myth. But the THEME of Thanksgiving has truth and integrity far above and beyond what we and our forbearers have made of it.

Thanksgiving is a bigger concept than just the story of the founding of the Plymouth Plantation. So what do we teach to our children? We usually pass on unquestioned what we all received in our own childhood classrooms. I have come to know both the truths and the myths about our "First Thanksgiving," and I feel we need to try to reach beyond the myths to some degree of historic truth. This text is an attempt to do this. At this point you are probably asking, "What is the big deal about Thanksgiving and the Pilgrims?" "What does this guy mean by a mixture of truths and myth?" That is just what this introduction is all about.

I propose that there may be a good deal that many of us do not know about our Thanksgiving holiday and also about the "First Thanksgiving" story. I also propose that what most of us have learned about the Pilgrims and the Indians who were at the first Thanksgiving at Plymouth Plantation is only part of the truth. When you build a lesson on only half of the information, then you are not teaching the whole truth. That is why I used the word myth.

So where do you start to find out more about the holiday and our modern stories about how it began? A good place to start is with a very important book, "The Invasion of America," by Francis Jennings. It is a very authoritative text on the settlement of New England and the evolution of Indian/White relations in the New England colonies. I also recommend looking up any good text on British history. Check out the British Civil War of 1621-1642, Oliver Cromwell, and the Puritan uprising of 1653 which ended parliamentary government in England until 1660. The history of the Puritan experience in New England really should not be separated from the history of the Puritan experience in England. You should also realize that the "Pilgrims" were a sub sect, or splinter group, of the Puritan movement. They came to America to achieve on this continent what their Puritan brethren continued to strive for in England; and when the Puritans were forced from England, they came to New England and soon absorbed the original "Pilgrims." As the editor, I have read all the texts listed in our bibliography, and many more, in preparing this material for you. I want you to read some of these books.

So let me use my editorial license to deliberately provoke you a little. When comparing the events stirred on by the Puritans in England with accounts of Puritan/Pilgrim activities in New England in the same era, several provocative things suggest themselves:

1. The Puritans were not just simple religious conservatives persecuted by the King and the Church of England for their unorthodox beliefs. They were political revolutionaries who not only intended to overthrow the government of England, but who actually did so in 1649.

2. The Puritan "Pilgrims" who came to New England were not simply refugees who decided to "put their fate in God's hands" in the "empty wilderness" of North America, as a generation of Hollywood movies taught us. In any culture at any time, settlers on a frontier are most often outcasts and fugitives who, in some way or other, do not fit into the mainstream of their society. This is not to imply that people who settle on frontiers have no redeeming qualities such as bravery, etc., but that the images of nobility that we associate with the Puritans are at least in part the good "P.R." efforts of later writers who have romanticized them. (1) It is also very plausible that this unnaturally noble image of the Puritans is all wrapped up with the mythology of "Noble Civilization" vs. "Savagery."(2) At any rate, mainstream Englishmen considered the Pilgrims to be deliberate religious dropouts who intended to found a new nation completely independent from non-Puritan England. In 1643 the Puritan/Pilgrims declared themselves an independent confederacy, one hundred and forty-three years before the American Revolution. They believed in the imminent occurrence of Armageddon in Europe and hoped to establish here in the new world the "Kingdom of God" foretold in the book of Revelation. They diverged from their Puritan brethren who remained in England only in that they held little real hope of ever being able to successfully overthrow the King and Parliament and, thereby, impose their "Rule of Saints" (strict Puritan orthodoxy) on the rest of the British people. So they came to America not just in one ship (the Mayflower) but in a hundred others as well, with every intention of taking the land away from its native people to build their prophesied "Holy Kingdom."(3)

3. The Pilgrims were not just innocent refugees from religious persecution. They were victims of bigotry in England, but some of them were themselves religious bigots by our modern standards. The Puritans and the Pilgrims saw themselves as the "Chosen Elect" mentioned in the book of Revelation. They strove to "purify" first themselves and then everyone else of everything they did not accept in their own interpretation of scripture. Later New England Puritans used any means, including deceptions, treachery, torture, war, and genocide to achieve that end.(4) They saw themselves as fighting a holy war against Satan, and everyone who disagreed with them was the enemy. This rigid fundamentalism was transmitted to America by the Plymouth colonists, and it sheds a very different light on the "Pilgrim" image we have of them. This is best illustrated in the written text of the Thanksgiving sermon delivered at Plymouth in 1623 by "Mather the Elder." In it, Mather the Elder gave special thanks to God for the devastating plague of smallpox which wiped out the majority of the Wampanoag Indians who had been their benefactors. He praised God for destroying "chiefly young men and children, the very seeds of increase, thus clearing the forests to make way for a better growth", i.e., the Pilgrims.(5) In as much as these Indians were the Pilgrim's benefactors, and Squanto, in particular, was the instrument of their salvation that first year, how are we to interpret this apparent callousness towards their misfortune?

4. The Wampanoag Indians were not the "friendly savages" some of us were told about when we were in the primary grades. Nor were they invited out of the goodness of the Pilgrims' hearts to share the fruits of the Pilgrims' harvest in a demonstration of Christian charity and interracial brotherhood. The Wampanoag were members of a widespread confederacy of Algonkian-speaking peoples known as the League of the Delaware. For six hundred years they had been defending themselves from my other ancestors, the Iroquois, and for the last hundred years they had also had encounters with European fishermen and explorers but especially with European slavers, who had been raiding their coastal villages.(6) They knew something of the power of the white people, and they did not fully trust them. But their religion taught that they were to give charity to the helpless and hospitality to anyone who came to them with empty hands.(7) Also, Squanto, the Indian hero of the Thanksgiving story, had a very real love for a British explorer named John Weymouth, who had become a second father to him several years before the Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth. Clearly, Squanto saw these Pilgrims as Weymouth's people.(8) To the Pilgrims the Indians were heathens and, therefore, the natural instruments of the Devil. Squanto, as the only educated and baptized Christian among the Wampanoag, was seen as merely an instrument of God, set in the wilderness to provide for the survival of His chosen people, the Pilgrims. The Indians were comparatively powerful and, therefore, dangerous; and they were to be courted until the next ships arrived with more Pilgrim colonists and the balance of power shifted. The Wampanoag were actually invited to that Thanksgiving feast for the purpose of negotiating a treaty that would secure the lands of the Plymouth Plantation for the Pilgrims. It should also be noted that the INDIANS, possibly out of a sense of charity toward their hosts, ended up bringing the majority of the food for the feast.(9)

5. A generation later, after the balance of power had indeed shifted, the Indian and White children of that Thanksgiving were striving to kill each other in the genocidal conflict known as King Philip's War. At the end of that conflict most of the New England Indians were either exterminated or refugees among the French in Canada, or they were sold into slavery in the Carolinas by the Puritans. So successful was this early trade in Indian slaves that several Puritan ship owners in Boston began the practice of raiding the Ivory Coast of Africa for black slaves to sell to the proprietary colonies of the South, thus founding the American-based slave trade.(10)

Obviously there is a lot more to the story of Indian/Puritan relations in New England than in the thanksgiving stories we heard as children. Our contemporary mix of myth and history about the "First" Thanksgiving at Plymouth developed in the 1890s and early 1900s. Our country was desperately trying to pull together its many diverse peoples into a common national identity. To many writers and educators at the end of the last century and the beginning of this one, this also meant having a common national history. This was the era of the "melting pot" theory of social progress, and public education was a major tool for social unity. It was with this in mind that the federal government declared the last Thursday in November as the legal holiday of Thanksgiving in 1898. In consequence, what started as an inspirational bit of New England folklore, soon grew into the full-fledged American Thanksgiving we now know. It emerged complete with stereotyped Indians and stereotyped Whites, incomplete history, and a mythical significance as our "First Thanksgiving. " But was it really our FIRST American Thanksgiving? Now that I have deliberately provoked you with some new information and different opinions, please take the time to read some of the texts in our bibliography. I want to encourage you to read further and form your own opinions.

There really is a TRUE Thanksgiving story of Plymouth Plantation. But I strongly suggest that there always has been a Thanksgiving story of some kind or other for as long as there have been human beings. There was also a "First" Thanksgiving in America, but it was celebrated thirty thousand years ago.(11) At some time during the New Stone Age (beginning about ten thousand years ago) Thanksgiving became associated with giving thanks to God for the harvests of the land. Thanksgiving has always been a time of people coming together, so thanks has also been offered for that gift of fellowship between us all. Every last Thursday in November we now partake in one of the OLDEST and most UNIVERSAL of human celebrations, and THERE ARE MANY THANKSGIVING STORIES TO TELL. As for Thanksgiving week at Plymouth Plantation in 1621, the friendship was guarded and not always sincere, and the peace was very soon abused. But for three days in New England's history, peace and friendship were there.

So here is a story for your children. It is as kind and gentle a balance of historic truth and positive inspiration as its writers and this editor can make it out to be. I hope it will adequately serve its purpose both for you and your students, and I also hope this work will encourage you to look both deeper and farther, for Thanksgiving is Thanksgiving all around the world. Chuck Larsen Tacoma Public Schools September, 1986

FOOTNOTES FOR TEACHER INTRODUCTION (1) See Berkhofer, Jr., R.F., "The White Man's Indian," references to Puritans, pp. 27, 80-85, 90, 104, & 130. (2) See Berkhofer, Jr., R.F., "The White Man's Indian," references to frontier concepts of savagery in index. Also see Jennings, Francis, "The Invasion of America," the myth of savagery, pp. 6-12, 15-16, & 109- 110. (3) See Blitzer, Charles, "Age of Kings," Great Ages of Man series, references to Puritanism, pp. 141, 144 & 145-46. Also see Jennings, Francis, "The Invasion of America," references to Puritan human motives, pp. 4-6, 43-44 and 53. (4) See "Chronicles of American Indian Protest," pp. 6-10. Also see Armstrong, Virginia I., "I Have Spoken," reference to Cannonchet and his village, p. 6. Also see Jennings, Francis, "The Invasion of America," Chapter 9 "Savage War," Chapter 13 "We must Burn Them," and Chapter 17 "Outrage Bloody and Barbarous." (5) See "Chronicles of American Indian Protest," pp. 6-9. Also see Berkhofer, Jr., R.F., "The White Man's Indian," the comments of Cotton Mather, pp. 37 & 82-83. (6) See Larsen, Charles M., "The Real Thanksgiving," pp. 3-4. Also see Graff, Steward and Polly Ann, "Squanto, Indian Adventurer." Also see "Handbook of North American Indians," Vol. 15, the reference to Squanto on p. 82. (7) See Benton-Banai, Edward, "The Mishomis Book," as a reference on general "Anishinabe" (the Algonkin speaking peoples) religious beliefs and practices. Also see Larsen, Charles M., "The Real Thanksgiving," reference to religious life on p. 1. (8) See Graff, Stewart and Polly Ann, "Squanto, Indian Adventurer." Also see Larsen, Charles M., "The Real Thanksgiving." Also see Bradford, Sir William, "Of Plymouth Plantation," and "Mourt's Relation." (9) See Larsen, Charles M., "The Real Thanksgiving," the letter of Edward Winslow dated 1622, pp. 5-6. (10) See "Handbook of North American Indians," Vol. 15, pp. 177-78. Also see "Chronicles of American Indian Protest," p. 9, the reference to the enslavement of King Philip's family. Also see Larsen, Charles, M., "The Real Thanksgiving," pp. 8-11, "Destruction of the Massachusetts Indians." (11) Best current estimate of the first entry of people into the Americas confirmed by archaeological evidence that is datable.

April 28, 1988 - As part of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act, H.R. 5, Title V, Congress passes legislation to repeal the termination policy established by House Concurrent Resolution 108, passed in 1953. Without Tribal approval or input, the resolution provided for the termination of 108 Tribes and Bands over the following ten years. The act also prohibited the BIA from terminating, consolidating, or transferring BIA-administered schools without the consent of the affected Tribes.

June 25th, 1876:
Lakota and Northern Cheyenne warriors defeated General George Armstrong Custer at the Battle of the Little Big Horn.

The Little Bighorn River, called the Greasy Grass by Native Americans, was the site of the 1876 battle known as "Custer's Last Stand," when troops of the Seventh Cavalry under George Armstrong Custer were destroyed while attempting a surprise attack on Lakota Chief Sitting Bull's encampment.

1876: Col.George Custer will be commanding Troops C,E,F,I, and L; Major Marcus Reno will have troops A,G, and M. Captain Frederick Benteen will lead Troops H,D, and K. Captain Thomas McDougall will guard the supply wagons with Troop B.

The following soldiers will receive Congressional Medals of Honor for actions during this battle today and tomorrow: Private Neil Bancroft, Company A; Pvt. Abram B.Brant, Co. D; Pvt. Thomas J.Callen, Co. B; Sgt. Benjamin C.Criswell, Co. B; Corporal Charles Cunningham, Co. B; Pvt. Frederick Deetline, Co. D; Sgt. George Geiger, Co. H; Pvt. Theodore Goldin, Troop G; Pvt. David W.Harris, Co. A; Pvt. William M.Harris, Co. D; Pvt. Henry Holden, Co. D; Sgt. Rufus D.Hutchinson, Co. B; Blacksmith Henry Mechlin, Co. H; Sgt. Thomas Murray, Co. B; Pvt. James Pym, Co. B; Sgt. Stanislaus Roy, Co. A; Pvt. George Scott, Co. D; Pvt. Thomas Stivers, Co. D; Pvt. Peter Thompson, Co. C; Pvt. Frank Tolan, Co. D; Saddler Otto Voit, Co. H; Sgt. Charles Welch, Co. D; Pvt. Charles Windolph, Co. H.

George A. Custer and the Battle of the Little Big Horn

George Armstrong Custer was elevated to the rank of General by a battlefield commission during the Civil War. He had emerged from West Point at the bottom of his class where he had amassed a huge number of demerits. His success in the Civil War might be attributed to his unorthodox methods and the wild charges he led with no concern for the scouting reports, if he ever read them. He had the highest casualty figures among the Union division commanders. However, he himself emerged unscathed. He personally accepted the white flag of surrender from Gen. Robert E. Lee at Appomattox.

After the war, he was stripped of his battlefield commission and returned to the regular army as a captain. He was assigned to Texas to restore order, a task he felt was inconsequential. In 1867 he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel in the 7th Cavalry. This began his career as an Indian fighter. He was not well loved, drove both men and horses hard while he would go off, alone or with a small group, to hunt.

In 1867 he was brought up on charges of abandoning his command (to visit his wife) and having (other) deserters shot on the spot, sans hearing. He was convicted, on both counts, and sentenced to a year's suspension from rank and pay, including forfeiture of salary. But 10 months later he was reinstated by General Sheridan to lead the campaign against the Southern Cheyenne in Oklahoma Territory.

It was in Oklahoma that the unusual strategy of a winter campaign would be tried, to catch the Indians when they had become immobile, in their winter camps. The culmination of this campaign was the massacre of Black Kettle's Southern Cheyennes in the Battle of the Washita, November 27, 1868, with 103 Cheyennes dead in the mud and snow. The animals were all slaughtered, at Custer's order. All captured possessions were burned.

Custer's luck had held. He had had no scouting done before the dawn attack and had no knowledge that thousands of other southern plains Indians were in the immediate area. The effect of this was a result, the small detachment led by Major Joel Elliot, which had ridden off in pursuit of escaping Indians, was wiped out. Custer returned to his post without even searching for these men. Their fate was not discovered for two weeks until their remains were chanced upon. However, Custer had a way of making himself a public hero, and therefore difficult to control by his superiors.

The campaign in the northern plains was to be a winter campaign also. However, the weather was so bad that it was greatly delayed. A three pronged "pincer" attack was planned. However the Sioux defeated General Crook's forces in the Battle of the Rosebud on June 17. On the morning of the 18th, the Indians saw the soldiers returning south, leaving the field of battle. Thus one of the columns of the pincers was eliminated.

Custer's luck did not hold this time either. He would not believe his scouts about the size of the camp he was about to attack. He divided his forces to attack from two directions and thus was undermanned in both places. When the young scout, Curley, a Crow, made his way back to the waiting riverboat on the Big Horn River to tell the story of the battle, he was not believed, nor were other Indian versions of the battle. The myth took precedence over the truth. Only recently has his version of the battle been found to contain the basic truths, from new archaeological work on the site.

The man and the battle have attained mythological proportions, in large measure because the white man lost. It represented a denial of the entire premise of Manifest Destiny. The Northern Plains tribes were challenging the entire religious basis for the settlement of the west.

The Battle of Little Bighorn

An Eyewitness Account by the Lakota Chief Red Horse recorded in pictographs and text at the Cheyenne River Reservation, 1881

Five springs ago I, with many Sioux Indians, took down and packed up our tipis and moved from Cheyenne river to the Rosebud river, where we camped a few days; then took down and packed up our lodges and moved to the Little Bighorn river and pitched our lodges with the large camp of Sioux.

The Sioux were camped on the Little Bighorn river as follows: The lodges of the Uncpapas were pitched highest up the river under a bluff. The Santee lodges were pitched next. The Oglala's lodges were pitched next. The Brule lodges were pitched next. The Minneconjou lodges were pitched next. The Sans Arcs' lodges were pitched next. The Blackfeet lodges were pitched next. The Cheyenne lodges were pitched next. A few Arikara Indians were among the Sioux (being without lodges of their own). Two- Kettles, among the other Sioux (without lodges).

I was a Sioux chief in the council lodge. My lodge was pitched in the center of the camp. The day of the attack I and four women were a short distance from the camp digging wild turnips. Suddenly one of the women attracted my attention to a cloud of dust rising a short distance from camp. I soon saw that the soldiers were charging the camp. To the camp I and the women ran. When I arrived a person told me to hurry to the council lodge. The soldiers charged so quickly we could not talk (council). We came out of the council lodge and talked in all directions. The Sioux mount horses, take guns, and go fight the soldiers. Women and children mount horses and go, meaning to get out of the way.

Among the soldiers was an officer who rode a horse with four white feet. [This officer was evidently Capt. French, Seventh Cavalry.] The Sioux have for a long time fought many brave men of different people, but the Sioux say this officer was the bravest man they had ever fought. I don't know whether this was Gen. Custer or not. Many of the Sioux men that I hear talking tell me it was. I saw this officer in the fight many times, but did not see his body. It has been told me that he was killed by a Santee Indian, who took his horse. This officer wore a large- brimmed hat and a deerskin coat. This officer saved the lives of many soldiers by turning his horse and covering the retreat. Sioux say this officer was the bravest man they ever fought. I saw two officers looking alike, both having long yellowish hair.

Before the attack the Sioux were camped on the Rosebud river. Sioux moved down a river running into the Little Bighorn river, crossed the Little Bighorn river, and camped on its west bank.

This day [day of attack] a Sioux man started to go to Red Cloud agency, but when he had gone a short distance from camp he saw a cloud of dust rising and turned back and said he thought a herd of buffalo was coming near the village.

The day was hot. In a short time the soldiers charged the camp. [This was Maj. Reno's battalion of the Seventh Cavalry.] The soldiers came on the trail made by the Sioux camp in moving, and crossed the Little Bighorn river above where the Sioux crossed, and attacked the lodges of the Uncpapas, farthest up the river. The women and children ran down the Little Bighorn river a short distance into a ravine. The soldiers set fire to the lodges. All the Sioux now charged the soldiers and drove them in confusion across the Little Bighorn river, which was very rapid, and several soldiers were drowned in it. On a hill the soldiers stopped and the Sioux surrounded them. A Sioux man came and said that a different party of Soldiers had all the women and children prisoners. Like a whirlwind the word went around, and the Sioux all heard it and left the soldiers on the hill and went quickly to save the women and children.

From the hill that the soldiers were on to the place where the different soldiers [by this term Red-Horse always means the battalion immediately commanded by General Custer, his mode of distinction being that they were a different body from that first encountered] were seen was level ground with the exception of a creek. Sioux thought the soldiers on the hill [i.e., Reno's battalion] would charge them in rear, but when they did not the Sioux thought the soldiers on the hill were out of cartridges. As soon as we had killed all the different soldiers the Sioux all went back to kill the soldiers on the hill. All the Sioux watched around the hill on which were the soldiers until a Sioux man came and said many walking soldiers were coming near. The coming of the walking soldiers was the saving of the soldiers on the hill. Sioux can not fight the walking soldiers [infantry], being afraid of them, so the Sioux hurriedly left.

The soldiers charged the Sioux camp about noon. The soldiers were divided, one party charging right into the camp. After driving these soldiers across the river, the Sioux charged the different soldiers [i.e., Custer's] below, and drive them in confusion; these soldiers became foolish, many throwing away their guns and raising their hands, saying, "Sioux, pity us; take us prisoners." The Sioux did not take a single soldier prisoner, but killed all of them; none were left alive for even a few minutes. These different soldiers discharged their guns but little. I took a gun and two belts off two dead soldiers; out of one belt two cartridges were gone, out of the other five.

The Sioux took the guns and cartridges off the dead soldiers and went to the hill on which the soldiers were, surrounded and fought them with the guns and cartridges of the dead soldiers. Had the soldiers not divided I think they would have killed many Sioux. The different soldiers [i.e., Custer's battalion] that the Sioux killed made five brave stands. Once the Sioux charged right in the midst of the different soldiers and scattered them all, fighting among the soldiers hand to hand.

One band of soldiers was in rear of the Sioux. When this band of soldiers charged, the Sioux fell back, and the Sioux and the soldiers stood facing each other. Then all the Sioux became brave and charged the soldiers. The Sioux went but a short distance before they separated and surrounded the soldiers. I could see the officers riding in front of the soldiers and hear them shooting. Now the Sioux had many killed. The soldiers killed 136 and wounded 160 Sioux. The Sioux killed all these different soldiers in the ravine.

The soldiers charged the Sioux camp farthest up the river. A short time after the different soldiers charged the village below. While the different soldiers and Sioux were fighting together the Sioux chief said, "Sioux men, go watch soldiers on the hill and prevent their joining the different soldiers." The Sioux men took the clothing off the dead and dressed themselves in it. Among the soldiers were white men who were not soldiers. The Sioux dressed in the soldiers' and white men's clothing fought the soldiers on the hill.

The banks of the Little Bighorn river were high, and the Sioux killed many of the soldiers while crossing. The soldiers on the hill dug up the ground [i.e., made earth-works], and the soldiers and Sioux fought at long range, sometimes the Sioux charging close up. The fight continued at long range until a Sioux man saw the walking soldiers coming. When the walking soldiers came near the Sioux became afraid and ran away.

Indian Boarding Schools Reflections

.c The Associated Press 4/24/99

Reflections of former students at American Indian boarding schools:

ABUSE

``There was one fella (a dorm attendant) that was having mental health problems, and they sent him to the school to get him out of the way. Anyway, he would have these psychotic episodes and hear voices, and he would just come out of his room in the middle of the night and randomly pick people out and whip them severely for no reason.''

Peter Campbell, Colville/Coeur d'Alene, who attended two Roman Catholic boarding schools in Washington and Idaho in the 1950s.

``Our (dorm) matron, she would spank us real hard on the rear, put us over this old-fashioned laundry tub, and just spank the hell out of us. It got to the point where it didn't bother us, so she would use her high heels. She would start slapping your face, hitting us until we cried. We learned to start crying so she would stop. Someday I'd like to confront her and talk to her about what she did to us.''

Ethel Sales, Navajo, who attended a Christian Reformed mission school in Rehobeth, N.M.

``I loved it. I would cry when I had to go home. They were very good to us.''

Leola Johnston, Choctaw, who attended St. Agnes Academy, a Roman Catholic boarding school in Oklahoma.

LANGUAGE

"There's an expression in Ojibwe, pronounced hai'. It's like `too bad,' showing sympathy. As I was getting off the bus for the first time, I said that to someone who tripped. I got slapped by the matron, who said, `You don't use that language here.'''

Jim Northrup, Fond du Lac Chippewa, who attended the Pipestone Indian Training School in Pipestone, Minn., in the 1940s and '50s.

"They used to take this brown soap, and if they caught us talking Indian, they made us eat the brown soap. She (a friend) and I used to hide in this steel closet talking Indian. We got caught once, and this lady closed the door on us and almost smothered us ... She told us never to talk Indian again, but we did, whenever anyone was out of earshot.''

Jo Anna Meninick, Yakama, who attended the Chemawa Indian School in Salem, Ore., in the 1950s.

"I had a few friends whose family spoke the same language that I did, but the language had been discouraged for so many years that truly nobody was speaking it. When we were speaking about something confidential, then we'd go in a corner and talk the language to one another and be shush-shush about it, and know we were breaking the rules.''

Vi Hilbert, Upper Skagit, who attended boarding schools in Washington and Oregon in the 1920s and '30s and is now a tribal language-preservation activist.

RELIGION

"I used religion as a way to ask God to help me. They said if you ask God for anything, he'll help you, so I'd want to talk to God. I made sure I was the first one in line on Sunday, so when I went into the church I would be in the front row, so if Jesus came, I could tell him I want to come home. I believed Jesus was coming and he would help us out of that dilemma. But God never came. The government won.'' Meninick.

"My mother and father explained to me that I was going into a strange world. They prepared me very well for the occasion with religion. As I left home, my mother gave me a pouch of corn pollen. She said, 'Keep this. This is like your Bible. Someone is going to try to take it away from you, but this is yours. You keep it, this is your church, your belief.' I kept it. No one ever took it away from me.''

Peterson Zah, a former president of the Navajo Nation who graduated from the Phoenix Indian School in 1958.

American Indians Describe Beatings

.c The Associated Press By MATT KELLEY 4/24/99

WAHPETON, N.D. (AP) -- It was the beating she didn't get that still haunts Joyce Burr.

She and several friends were hiding from a dormitory matron in the coat room of the Wahpeton Indian School. They peeked from behind the coats as the enraged matron, herself an Indian, caught up with an older Chippewa girl named Judy Karvonen.

"That's the worst beating I've ever seen. That woman used coat hangers and everything on her,'' said Burr, a Turtle Mountain Chippewa/Oglala Sioux. "You can imagine not trying to move, trying not to make a sound, when you're seeing that.''

Burr was just one of thousands of American Indian children sent to boarding schools run by the government or by Christian denominations. The coat room beating was just one of thousands administered in the name of keeping order, of crushing Indian identity, of immersing Indian children in white American society. Today, about 10,000 Indian children are enrolled in the schools, though their mission has changed.

Burr herself had suffered through plenty of thrashings at Wahpeton, where she lived from 1952 to 1959. Dormitory workers beat her for climbing trees, or for not making her bed quickly enough.

Karvonen became Burr's mentor and protector after Burr's mother died during her first year away from home. Burr and her friends also were like sisters to Karvonen, who spent five years at Wahpeton without seeing her family on the Turtle Mountain reservation. So she never told the matron where her friends were hiding, and never again mentioned the coat room beating to her classmates.

"I just withheld everything inside me and wouldn't cry for nobody or nothing,'' Karvonen said.

The worst abuse, Burr said nearly 45 years later, came from Indian dormitory workers who had attended boarding schools themselves.

"They personally took great glee in beating you. Some of them were very sadistic,'' Burr said. ``... I suppose the same thing happened to them, so they turned around and did the same thing to us.''

For more than a century, tens of thousands of American Indians surrendered their childhoods at boarding schools like Wahpeton, a prairie outpost 45 miles south of Fargo.

The federal Bureau of Indian Affairs began opening boarding schools in the 1870s, joining a parallel system of religious boarding schools for Indians run by Christian missionaries.

Federal boarding school enrollments swelled from 6,200 at 60 schools in 1885 to more than 17,000 in 153 schools at the turn of the century. By 1931, nearly one-third of Indian children were in boarding schools, a total of about 24,000. Enrollments have declined to less than half that number at 52 federal boarding schools today.

At both government and mission schools, the goal was the same: obliterating all that was Indian.

Former students and boarding school historians say the methods were often violent and humiliating -- forcing children to eat lye soap for speaking their tribal languages, cropping their long hair, paddling them for having Indian medicine bundles.

"We were never going to be like the white man, no matter how hard we tried, but they forced us to try to be like the white man,'' said Jo Anna Meninick, a Yakama. She attended the government-run Chemawa Indian School in Salem, Ore., in the 1950s.

"They stripped us of our language. They stripped us of our religious beliefs. They stripped us of our family life, our family values. They stripped us from our culture.''

Some former boarding school workers say much of the abuse stemmed from ignorance and overwork.

Sister Miriam Shindelar was a dorm attendant from 1967 to 1970 at the Marty Indian School, a Roman Catholic institution on the Yankton Sioux reservation in South Dakota.

"That first year, I was in charge of 91 high school girls,'' said Shindelar, who also taught at the school from 1974 to 1984. ``You didn't have the kinds of time that a family would have. You ended up being largely a disciplinarian.''

Not every school worker was abusive, said Esther Horne, 89, a Shoshone who taught at Wahpeton from 1930 to 1965.

"There were some people who were harsh on the children, but there were also a great many others who were very solicitous, creating a happy environment in the dormitory,'' she said.

Other boarding school officials approved of the beatings. Phoenix Indian School Superintendent John B. Brown objected in 1928 when his bosses in Washington ordered a halt to corporal punishment.

"We deal with a primitive race, with persons who often lack appreciation of the reasons for good behavior,'' Brown wrote.

Canada had its own system of boarding schools for Indian children, and the Canadian government has acknowledged that physical and sexual abuse was widespread. Last year, Canada formally apologized and set aside more than $230 million to pay for counseling programs developed by tribal groups.

A flurry of lawsuits and a royal commission's report detailing the abuses forced the Canadian government's hand, said Shawn Tupper of Canada's Department of Indian and Northern Affairs.

"It was obvious that the government had to take some action and focus on helping these people recover,'' Tupper said.

No similar action by the United States has been proposed in Congress, said Senate Indian Affairs Committee spokesman Chris Changery.

Still, the boarding school story is not just a tale of misery. Some former students saw the schools as a refuge from poverty, abuse or abandonment at home. Many say they gained the education and self-control needed to be successful.

One is Ernie Stensgar, chairman of the Coeur d'Alene tribe in northern Idaho. He attended the Chilocco Indian School in north-central Oklahoma in 1963-64.

"When I went into boot camp in the military, it wasn't too hard for me, because I had already in a sense been to boot camp,'' said Stensgar, who was wounded in Vietnam.

"Kill the Indian, save the man.'' That was the motto of Gen. Richard Pratt, the former commander of an Indian POW camp who founded the first off-reservation federal boarding school in 1879.

The government bureaucrats and Christian missionaries who molded the boarding school system had the same idea. Indians must be forced to follow "the superior methods of the white man,'' Wellington Rich, the first superintendent of the Phoenix Indian School, said in 1890.

At the very least, U.S. Indian Commissioner Thomas Morgan said that year, it was "cheaper to educate Indians than to kill them.'' A predecessor, Carl Schurz, had done the math, calculating in 1882 that it cost nearly $1 million to kill an Indian in battle, but $1,200 for eight years of schooling.

So students marched with military-style discipline. They exchanged their own buckskins or calico dresses for neck-to-toe uniforms.

Government boarding schools were particularly harsh, former students and government records say. The schools required students to attend Christian religious services on Sundays and renounce their tribal religions. Many children were sent into surrounding communities to work for white families -- the girls as domestic servants, the boys as farmhands.

In the late 1920s, federal boarding schools fed students thin gruel, moldy molasses and weak coffee for 11 cents per day, the equivalent of $1 today. Government inspectors in the 1930s cited the Haskell Institute, a federal boarding school in Lawrence, Kan., for having bathrooms that were nothing more than a row of chamber pots lined up in a closet.

Classroom instruction took up half of the day or less at most federal schools, with the rest devoted to hard labor. Students kept the schools running by doing everything from building the buildings to raising livestock and harvesting crops.

Former students tell of being forced to kneel on bare wooden floors for hours when they misunderstood commands barked in the unfamiliar English language. They remember beatings for crying out of homesickness. They speak of being chained in makeshift jails if they tried to run away.

"We didn't like ourselves because we were Indian,'' said Meninick, now a cultural resource officer with the Yakama Nation in south-central Washington. "We were bad. We were no good. We were uneducated, illiterate. We were not going to amount to anything.''

Some schools banned parents from visiting, lest they infect their children with tribal culture. Being separated from their families for months or years meant that many boarding school students never learned how to be good parents.

"They were very strict. They were very stern. They were very cold,'' said Ida Amiotte, 77, an Oglala Sioux. She attended a Roman Catholic boarding school in Pine Ridge, S.D. in the 1920s and '30s. "My children always asked me, `Why are you so cold? Why don't you hug us?' I said, `I never learned how.'''

Boarding school staff also forced students to beat their classmates. Some schools used the "hotline,'' in which the offending student was forced to walk a gauntlet of classmates wielding belts or sticks or hairbrushes.

"The girls had to walk the gauntlet and get the backs of their legs switched, and if the switcher was too light on the switch, they had to do it hard. These girls had legs that were swollen three times their size,'' said Vi Hilbert, who attended boarding schools in Washington and Oregon in the 1920s and '30s. Hilbert is a member of the Upper Skagit tribe.

Students died by the hundreds from epidemics, farm accidents and other causes, said Cleveland State University professor David Adams, an expert on the boarding school system. Firm numbers are unavailable because many schools sent seriously ill children home or never recorded student deaths, he said.

The cemetery at Haskell alone has 102 student graves. Government documents show at least 500 more students died and were buried elsewhere, said Charles Haines, a biology professor at what is now Haskell Indian Nations University.

Some students killed themselves. One was 18-year-old John Thomas, a Pima who shot himself in the head at the Phoenix Indian School in 1896. "No reason for such act can be ascertained,'' school Superintendent Harwood Hall reported in a brief dispatch to Washington.

A graduate of the Marty Indian School, Glenn Holiday, became a dormitory supervisor there before killing himself in 1978 in his early 20s, Shindelar said.

"He left a message saying, `I don't know which world I belong in. Some of my best friends are white,''' Shindelar said. "He said he was accused by his friends of being an apple -- red on the outside, white on the inside. And the struggle was too much for him.''

Boarding school conditions improved as government and church policy gradually shifted away from forced assimilation and enrollments declined.

"It is beautiful, civilized human life we are chopping to pieces at sizeable cost to the taxpayer,'' reformer John Collier wrote about boarding schools in 1923. A decade later, Franklin Roosevelt picked Collier to head the BIA, and Collier tried to ban beatings and improve conditions at the schools. Later, Indians themselves began running the BIA.

Military discipline at boarding schools was mostly gone by the 1950s. Schools abandoned most of their hard labor programs by the 1960s. After a 1969 congressional report declared Indian education "a national tragedy,'' tribes got more say in their schools and began introducing aspects of tribal culture into the classrooms.

Now 35 of the 52 government boarding schools are on the vast Navajo reservation, an area the size of West Virginia that includes parts of Arizona, New Mexico and Utah. Nine schools are on other reservations in South Dakota, Arizona, Washington and Mississippi.

Eight federal off-reservation boarding schools remain: In Wahpeton; Pierre and Flandreau, S.D.; Talequah and Anadarko, Okla.; Salem, Ore.; Riverside, Calif.; and Santa Fe, N.M.

The off-reservation schools have largely evolved into specialized treatment centers for troubled Indian youths. Wahpeton is now called Circle of Nations and is overseen by a tribal school board.

Joyce Burr has returned as superintendent of the school. Karen Gillis, an Arikara friend who hid with Burr in the coat room, is assistant superintendent.

"We know how it was and how it can be, so we try to do it right for the kids this time around,'' Gillis said.

When Burr became superintendent in 1995, she looked up Judy Karvonen and hired her to oversee the girls' dormitory.

"They (students) seem to bond with you better, since you've been to a school like this that was more crude and harsh than this is,'' Karvonen said.

They are among many boarding school survivors working to heal the hurts.

Shindelar led a religious service last year at which Indians and whites prayed and sang at school sites where abuses occurred.

Burr has enacted strict protections for her students at Wahpeton. "You even verbally abuse these kids,'' she said, "you're out of here.'' She dreams of organizing a conference of healing for adults who were abused in the Indian boarding schools.

"I guess that hurt never goes away. I'm 52, and I still feel it.''

Indians unsung heroes for Lewis and Clark
By Jodi Rave c. Deseretnews Lee Newspapers May 23, 1999
LINCOLN, Neb.

The explorers paddled gift-laden boats up the Missouri River, past an island where an abandoned earth-lodge village signaled a once-mighty nation. The weakened survivors had moved on, leaving behind gardens ripe with Indian corn and squash. On Oct. 4, 1804, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark made note of the empty Arikara homes. Between the 1780s and early 1800s, disease had decimated the tribe from about 30,000 to 2,000. Five days later, Lewis and Clark's Corps of Discovery, as it was called, met Arikara survivors along the Grand River near present-day Mobridge, S.D. It was the beginning of numerous exchanges in which white explorers sought to establish a cordial relationship with native people who had occupied the vast American West for centuries.

The impact of this 8,000-mile, 800-day journey was profound. For most Americans it is an indelible history page, the stuff of legend: A small group of determined, gritty patriots responding to a president who had merely asked they chart half an uncharted continent, find a water route to the Pacific, collect scores of previously unknown plant and animal species, soil and landforms, note the variety of native tribes, then return alive. It was, say some historians, the equivalent of a moon landing. And it was something else, too. It is the often-untold story of those whose generosity and knowledge were instrumental to the journey's success. The people who fed, guided, wintered, traded, befriended, danced, cooked, hunted, mapped and helped clothe men who often were hungry and lost, numb from cold and fatigue. With the 200th anniversary of the epic journey fast approaching, many historians suggest it is an ideal time for Americans to understand and appreciate the stories on both sides of the Missouri. "This is an amazing opportunity to let America know Indians haven't vanished," said Darrell Kipp, a Blackfeet and member of Montana's Lewis and Clark Bicentennial Commission. "Native Americans are still very much present in those areas that Lewis and Clark visited." Said Jim Fuglie, an event organizer helping North Dakota's Standing Rock Sioux: "This is the second most important bicentennial America has celebrated, after the bicentennial of America's independence. I can't think of anything that had a much bigger impact than the Lewis and Clark expedition had on America."

From the American Indian perspective, the historic journey's bicentennial engages a number of vital issues. Among them: It was a historic expedition that marked the beginning of the American West and changes that would dramatically alter tribal life for scores of sovereign American Indian nations. It is a valuable educational opportunity, one that can inform a global audience of the important role American Indians played in the monumental journey. It is a valuable economic opportunity, a vehicle to capitalize on money generated by millions of tourists expected to embark on the Lewis and Clark trail during the 2004-2006 bicentennial. It also is a cultural opportunity, a chance to highlight an expedition that was based on developing a healthy give and take between diverse groups. With the new millennium approaching, native leaders say, it's an ideal time to respect, celebrate and embrace diversity. "It's not a matter of whether the Lewis and Clark buffs will show up," observed Allen Pinkham, a Nez Perce tribal liaison for the Forest Service. "They're already showing up."

On May 14, 1804, Lewis, 28, and Clark, 31, began their journey from Wood River, Ill., near St. Louis. Soon, they would travel through lands unknown to whites but inhabited by scores of tribes for centuries. From the beginning, they hoped to establish good relations with tribes that would make or break the expedition. Tribes along the Northern Plains, Intermountain and coastal regions helped the Corps of Discovery along the way. They provided food, directions and horses because they hoped to foster trade relations. They wanted guns, ammunition, kettles, knives and beads. Half of the Lewis and Clark story belongs to native people, said Michelle Bussard, executive director of the National Lewis and Clark Bicentennial Council. Yet the story largely has been told by nonnatives. For the most part the general public, she said, is unaware of "what the Native American way of life was, the richness of that life and what their contributions were to the success of that mission," said Bussard. Added Curly Youpee, cultural resource director for Montana's Fort Peck Tribe: "There was very little said about the Native American during the Corps of Discovery. This gives us the opportunity to bring the story forward." In the end, say historians and others, it will provide a richer story.

Tribes and a host of federal agencies are working to ensure different viewpoints are woven into the celebration. The National Park Service met with tribal representatives in Great Falls and with Northern Plains tribes in New Town, N.D., earlier this month. Meanwhile, educational groups are creating Lewis and Clark curriculum packets that include native history. It hasn't been easy. "It's hard to include the Indian material when none exists," said Jeannie Eder, a Santee Sioux on the planning committee for the National Lewis and Clark Bicentennial Council. "Out of 100 books, only a handful tell our side of the story," said Allen Pinkham, of the Nez Perce tribe. Some say there also seems to be more acceptance. "I think public attitudes have changed," said Robert Kentta, cultural resource director for Oregon's Confederated Tribes of Siletz. "Maybe the passage of time has softened people's defenses and allowed them to take a more honest look at history and how it's interpreted." Many tribal leaders also say it's an ideal opportunity to educate their own people. "Now that we've got people's attention with the Lewis and Clark story, one of the biggest roles we can have is the education of our youth," suggested Gerard Baker, a Mandan-Hidatsa and superintendent for the Chickasaw National Recreation Area in Oklahoma. "Many times they say this is a white guy's story but you can glean a lot out of that story," he said. "We need to read the journals and combine that with the oral histories."

Tourism activities rapidly are evolving as well. Public interest began growing about 1978 when the expedition's route was named a National Historic Trail. The journey offers a little something for everyone, from map reading, birdwatching and hiking to the environment, geology and ethnography. Fascination with the journey exploded after publication of Stephen Ambrose's "Undaunted Courage" and Ken Burns' four-hour Lewis and Clark documentary, said Gary Moulton, a University of Nebraska-Lincoln professor who has spent the past 20 years editing the Lewis and Clark journals. "We are seeing up to a 1,000 people a day," confirmed Jane Webber, director for the Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail and Interpretive Center in Great Falls. The Great Falls community paid half the $6 million cost for center. In all, at least two dozen Lewis and Clark cultural and interpretive centers have or will be built. As for tribes, some are preparing more actively than others. "The two groups that have taken the lead are the Nez Perce and the Mandan," said Cal Calabrese of the National Park Service in Omaha. Many tribes plan on enhancing cultural events. The Blackfeet plan to beef up their North American Indian Days powwow and get tribal community colleges involved. The Chinook, however, are more recalcitrant. The tribe was well documented in the Lewis and Clark journals. Today, many live at the mouth of the Columbia River in Washington, across the river from where Lewis and Clark wintered at Fort Clatsop in Oregon. "If we do become involved in any major capacity, it will be on our own terms," said Peggy Disney, a Chinook tribal councilwoman. "I get the feeling they want to see a lot of Indians roaming around. But we're just scraping to get by."

Navajos Celebrate Historic Treaty That Preserved Culture

c. Salt Lake Tribune June 2, 1999 BY STEVE DEVITT

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. -- When the Navajos ended treaty negotiations with the United States on June 1, 1868, the document brought them peace, freedom, return of their traditional lands and allowed them to govern themselves according to their heritage. And it made them the exception to the rule of how tribes fared under the auspices of the federal government. To recognize that importance, on Tuesday, more than 400 Navajos, many of them schoolchildren, gathered in the stadium at Northern Arizona University (NAU) in Flagstaff to celebrate the document that made the tribe a nation.

So important is the celebration that on the first day of June all tribal offices are closed on the reservation, which is the country's largest, lying primarily in northeastern Arizona, with parts spilling into northwestern New Mexico and southeastern Utah. In his address to the assembly Tuesday, Navajo Nation President Kelsey Begaye equated the persecution of Navajos in the bleak days before the treaty to that suffered by blacks in the South. To Begaye and many Navajos, the treaty recognizes the tribe as a sovereign nation, a point the Navajo have always pressed in dealing with the federal government.

Indeed, the Navajo is one of the few tribes that operate under a treaty ratified by the U.S. Senate. Begaye told the cheering crowd that sovereignty means "people standing up for their rights and the right to run things our way within our boundaries the Navajo way." The original treaty, negotiated between the Navajo leader Barboncito and Civil War Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman, by then the Indian Peace Commissioner, has been on display for a year at NAU and will now be returned to the National Archives in Washington, D.C.

The treaty was the culmination of the contentious relationship the Navajos had with the federal government just as they had with other tribes and the Mexican population before the Mexican-American war made the Southwest U.S. territory. The last major conflict between the Navajo and the U.S. Army began in 1858 over the death of a black slave killed by a Navajo. The Army did not understand that there was no central leader among the Navajo who could turn the killer over to the authorities. Because of that, the tribe endured six years of attacks, which included enslavement of Navajo by other Indian tribes. After their defeat in 1864 by troops led by Kit Carson, the Navajo were marched hundreds of miles to Fort Sumner in southeastern New Mexico in what has become known as the Long Walk, one of the most widely known abuses of American Indians. Many died along the way from starvation or were killed by Army troops because they could not keep up. When they arrived, they suffered crop failures from weather and blight that left them a ruined people. But Navajo leaders who negotiated the treaty gave the Navajo their dignity back by insisting on returning to the Four Corners region.

Evangeline Parsons-Yazzie, a Navajo-language instructor at NAU who began the project to bring the treaty to the school, told those gathered Tuesday that "of all the Indian tribes, only the Navajo were allowed to return to their own land. Because of that, we have our language, and we have our culture." She said that it is important for Navajo children to know about the treaty so they can talk about it with their families. "We wanted to get the elders to start telling the stories again and break the silence," she said.

America was shamed into giving Indians citizenship
75th anniversary of citizenship receives little attention
By ROBERT STRUCKMAN c. The Billings Gazette 6-2-99

It wasn't marches in the streets or boycotts that won U.S. citizenship for Native Americans 75 years ago. It was national embarrassment, sparked by one man's act of heroism in World War I, that pushed the United States to grant citizenship to Native Americans, said MSU-Billings Native American studies professor Jeffrey Sanders.

The story goes like this: Joseph Oklahombi, a full-blooded Choctaw from Bismarck, N.D., and a soldier in the U.S. Army, was one of a large number of Native Americans who volunteered for World War I. Before 1924, Native Americans could become citizens in some instances if they were honorably discharged from the military, or if they sold their allotted reservation land. In 1917 Oklahombi went through the German lines in France, dodged barbed-wire and overpowered a machine gun nest, Sanders said. He then single-handedly captured 171 German soldiers. For that and for other acts of bravery, France awarded him the nation's highest military honor. "You see, he had not yet been discharged, so he was not yet a citizen. When that fact got out, it was extremely embarrassing to the United States," Sanders said.

Over the next seven years, a small group of politicians on the East Coast lobbied for citizenship for the nation's Native Americans. In 1924, the time was right, and a bill came through Congress and the Senate on the coattails of another, more controversial bill. The other bill would limit immigration from Asian countries. In the Billings Gazette on June 2, 1924 - the day President Coolidge signed the Indian Citizenship Act - there was no mention of the act. Instead, the headlines were dominated by the trial of Nathan Leopold Jr. and Richard Loeb. Two days earlier, the two sons of Chicago millionaires had confessed to murdering a 13-year-old boy. Farm aid was also a big issue in June, 75 years ago, but nowhere in the paper, or in the next week's worth of papers, was there a mention of the act that gave citizenship to "all non-citizen Indians born within the territorial limits of the United States."

The 75th anniversary of the citizenship act has also received little attention, both on Montana's reservations and off, said Gail Small, the founder and director of Native Action, a nonprofit organization trying to increase Native American voter participation across the northern Great Plains. On the reservations, the date is sensitive because it brings up feelings of anger and frustration. "Why Indians were not automatically citizens is still questioned by many," Small said, adding that discrimination against Native Americans is still a very real thing. "Indian people and their tribal governments remain an anomaly in the political system in this country. We don't really fit in very well as dual citizens or as tribal government." Small said Native Americans are still in political limbo. "Indian tribes and our homelands are not considered countries, states or truly sovereign nations," she said. So although Native Americans received the legal right to vote from the federal government 75 years ago, Small said the fight is still on for equal representation. Sanders agreed but said in the last 10 years, partly as a result of work by Small's organization, Native Americans have become an important swing vote in statewide elections. "When Pat Williams won his last election, he won by the number of Indian voters in the state," Sanders said. "You can't exactly say it's a direct correlation, but I think it would be fair to say the Indian vote can win elections and its influence will continue to grow."

Utah Tribe in Nuke Dump Flap
.c The Associated Press By ROBERT GEHRKE 4/1/99

SALT LAKE CITY (AP) -- For Leon Bear and 27 other members of the Skull Valley Band of Goshute Indians, home is an 18,000-acre patch on the parched alkali flats of Utah's western desert.

The reservation is tucked between a low-level nuclear waste dump, a hazardous waste incinerator, an Army chemical and biological testing range, the nation's largest storehouse for chemical weapons and an Air Force bombing range.

Those unsavory neighbors make it hard for the tribe to attract jobs, and more and more of the band's members are leaving to find work.

So the tribe decided to make a virtue of its desolation. It contracted to temporarily store high-level nuclear waste shunned by every other state.

But the plan has divided the tribe and placed it in conflict with state leaders, who say they're worried the dump will become permanent. They also shudder at the thought of waste being shipped along Interstate 80 and fear the site's proximity to the bombing range.

Legislators have backed Republican Gov. Mike Leavitt in opposing the proposed dump, voting for state control over a chain of dirt roads around the reservation.

That would allow the state to block waste shipments on paved roads or rail lines that cross the roads if the Nuclear Regulatory Commission approves the dump and it begins operating, which could happen as soon as 2002.

"We just don't want it,'' Leavitt said. ``The drawbridge will be raised to the waste storage utilities and permission to cross refused.''

Lawmakers have also stripped the proposed dump's owners of protection from lawsuits that could result from an accident there.

Bear, the tribal chairman, eyes the jobs, roads, sewer system, health clinic and fire station the project backers have promised for his tiny reservation 50 miles west of Salt Lake City. He said the safety arguments weren't voiced against the other hazardous repositories in the area, and raising them now "is racist.''

"All we have is our land,'' Bear said. "If this economic development can be done in balance between the environment, our people and private corporations, why not do it?''

But one-third of the tribe's adult members don't see it that way. They and the state have gone to federal court to challenge the lease with the utilities.

"We are going to be waking up every morning wondering when this thing is going to be contaminating our land,'' Margene Bullcreek, a Skull Valley Goshute and founder of a group opposed to the facility, said in a hearing last year. "If they tell us they are doing us a favor by making millionaires out of us, then why are they sacrificing our lives?''

In 1996, the tribe signed a potentially lucrative lease with Private Fuel Storage, a consortium of eight utilities: Southern California Edison, GPU Nuclear Corp., Northern States Power, Consolidated Edison of New York, Illinois Power, Indiana Michigan Power, Southern Nuclear Operating Co. and Genoatech.

Neither the tribe nor the consortium will disclose how much the tribe would receive.

Under the plan, 40,000 metric tons of spent reactor rods would be stored in concrete casks with 2 1/2-foot-thick walls and placed on a concrete pad 3 1/2 miles from a cluster of Goshute homes.

Only 28 of the band's 119 members live on the reservation, where a rocket-testing facility is the main employer. Bear said the dump's 200 temporary and 50 permanent jobs are needed to keep more members from leaving and further eroding the tribe's heritage.

Although the lease spans 25 years, with a 25-year option, Bear and the consortium point out that it may be just 10 years before the Department of Energy opens a permanent nuclear waste repository.

The DOE is looking at burying the waste at Yucca Mountain, 100 miles northwest of Las Vegas, as early as 2010. But Nevada Gov. Kenny Guinn remains vehemently opposed to the plan, which is why Leavitt and other Utah officials worry that the Goshutes' dump would become permanent.

Leavitt says the waste should stay at the utilities' reactor sites until a permanent repository is found. Scott Northard, the project manager for Private Fuel Storage, says that would force the reactors to stop operating because they can't store more waste.

Northard says one big reason for Utah's opposition is fear and mistrust stemming in part from open-air nuclear tests in Nevada during the 1950s that may have caused cancer in southern Utah residents downwind of the explosions.

Leavitt, a southern Utah native who had friends die of cancer, says the state won't back down even if can't stave off the utilities in court.

"We're clearly at a disadvantage in terms of our resources but we're not at all disadvantaged in terms of our resolve,'' he said.

Bear has seen a bottled-water company reject the reservation because of its inhospitable surroundings. But he says the tribe will still try other economic development options if the plans for the dump fall through.

"We're not going to die, that's for sure,'' he said. "We're going to be out there. We've survived all these years and will continue to survive.''

U.S. Eases Stance on Eviction of Landowners in Tribe's Suit
By DAVID W. CHEN c. AP 3/30/99

NEW YORK -- The federal government moved Monday to soften its support of the Oneida Indians' claim to 270,000 acres of land in central New York, saying it did not want to evict any private landowners from their homes.

A Department of Justice official said that the government still supported the Oneidas' original claim that state and local governments had acquired Oneida lands in the late 1700s and early 1800s through illegal and coercive treaties.

The official, speaking on condition of anonymity, reiterated that the 20,000 or so landowners who lived within the land-claim area were still defendants in the lawsuit, and therefore liable for any future damages.

But in recent months, the specter of eviction -- or ejectment, in legal terms -- had so overshadowed the lawsuit, and distracted from the parallel effort to hammer out a compromise, that the Justice Department felt that it was imperative to assure landowners that eviction was not a viable part of the solution, the official said.

So Monday, the Department of Justice formally asked for permission to amend its complaint during opening arguments in federal district court in Syracuse.

It was not immediately clear when Judge Neal McCurn would rule on the government's request. But if the request is granted -- which seems all but certain -- then it could help assuage the anxiety that has been percolating in recent months in Madison and Oneida Counties, where there have been boycotts of Oneida businesses, protest meetings and personal threats and uncivil language.

"They are listening. They are paying attention, and I think that's very significant," said Rep. Sherwood Boehlert, R-Utica, summing up his discussions with government officials. "I think this takes away the cloud of uncertainty that's hovering over all the private property owners in the region that someone is going to knock on their door and say, 'Get out!"'

Others, including Gov. George Pataki, want the government to go even further.

"The federal government's decision to back down from its outrageous attempt to frighten and intimidate the people of central New York by seeking to eject them from their homes is a small first step, but not nearly enough," Pataki said in a statement. He added that the government "must end its aggressive campaign against its own citizens by completely removing all homeowners from the land claim lawsuit."

Leon R. Koziol, a lawyer for Upstate Citizens for Equality, a landowners group that says it has 3,500 members, was even more blunt. While he said he believed that the government's request took a little bit of the steam out of the Oneidas' claim, he also blamed the government for stirring up fear and resentment in the first place.

"They used the people as pawns," Koziol said. "It was an unconscionable act, to use their own citizens as pawns in a scheme to raise the level of political discussion and legal argument in a lawsuit."

A spokeswoman for the Oneida Indian Nation, Carole Trimble, characterized the government's request as inconsequential to the merits of the case. She restated the Oneidas' hope that they can reach a resolution that is fair to all sides.

The dispute between the Oneidas and the state officially dates from 1970, when the Oneidas filed a lawsuit in federal district court saying that their land had been seized illegally. In 1985, the Supreme Court upheld the Oneidas' claim. But talks between the Oneidas and the state stalled for years.

So in December, to prod the negotiations along, the federal government sided with the Oneidas, filing an amended complaint that named 20,000 landowners as defendants. And that, in turn, unleashed a latent sense of resentment over the Oneidas' recent good fortunes.

Like all federally recognized tribes, the Oneida Indian Nation does not pay taxes. And thanks in part to their new Turning Stone Casino, the Oneidas have seemingly risen from abject poverty to unbridled affluence in a very short time, while their neighbors have been grappling with a tough local economy.

To vent their frustration, more than 2,000 motorists participated in a rally in January in front of the casino. An even larger one is scheduled for May 1, when Koziol said he expected that 5,000 cars would travel from Buffalo to Albany to protest the Oneidas.

The next court hearing on the land-claim issue is scheduled for May 26. The court-appointed mediator, Ronald J. Riccio, who was brought in last month to try and broker a compromise, has arranged two mediation sessions and has visited the land-claim area, and said he planned more visits and more meetings.

Riccio, the mediator who is also dean of Seton Hall University School of Law, described the progress as encouraging, even suggesting that there might be some kind of agreement in mid-May.

"It's possible; I'm not ruling it out," Riccio said. "At least what's possible is you can come up with the broad framework of a settlement. I think the actual implementation would take some time, but you want everyone to say, 'Yes, these are the components of a settlement,' and I think we're at the stage where I think everybody has a good idea of what the components are."

The following are updates from the Friends Committee on National Legislation (FCNL) regarding Indian affairs Legislation.

For more information, or to request the FCNL Indian Report and other background documents, please contact Aura Kanegis, FCNL Legislative Associate for Native American Affairs: (202) 547- 6000 ext. 113; 245 2nd St. NE, Washington, DC 20002; aura@fcnl.org.

TRIBAL SOVEREIGN IMMUNITY AND STATE TAXATION. On March 4, 1999, Senator Gorton (WA) introduced S. 550, which would require tribes to waive their sovereign immunity to allow state governments to sue tribal governments in federal courts to collect state taxes on tribal sales to non-tribal members. Sovereign immunity is a right exercised by federal, state and tribal governments which protects governments from being sued. This right is especially important to tribes which have very limited resources which could be easily depleted by lawsuit. Without protection from lawsuit, tribes might not be able to provide services to their members. Tribal sovereign immunity is limited in some areas, for example in programs contracted through the federal government. While tribal governments may choose a limited waiver of their sovereign immunity in other areas, this should be left to the discretion of tribes.

The courts have generally upheld a state's right to collect taxes on sales made to non-Indians on reservations, so long as the tax burden does not fall on an individual Indian or tribe. Jurisdiction on reservations is complicated by rulings which differentiate between Indians and non-Indians on reservations. However, many states and tribes have worked together to negotiate these complexities. Some states have made voluntary arrangements with tribes to collect taxes on sales to non- Indians. Other states have chosen to respect the sovereignty of tribes by not collecting those taxes.

University of California Points to Rebound in Admissions of Minority Undergraduates
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS 4/4/99

BERKELEY, Calif. -- The number of black and Hispanic students offered admission to the University of California rebounded in the university's second year without affirmative action, an increase credited to strong recruitment and a comprehensive application review.

Figures released on Friday showed the number of underrepresented minorities -- blacks, Hispanics and Indians -- offered admission to any of the eight undergraduate campuses for the coming fall was 27 students short of the number admitted in fall 1997, the last year race was considered.

Ward Connerly, the University of California regent who led the fight to stop considering race in admissions, welcomed the report. "The gloom and doom that was being preached by the proponents of preferences was grossly premature," he said.

The university has not made a complete recovery. Underrepresented minorities have not regained their 1997 class share because the numbers of Asians and non-Hispanic whites also increased, and the flagship Berkeley campus is still well below 1997 totals of underrepresented minorities.

But the overall picture was cheered as a positive step.

Carla Ferri, admissions director at the University of California, said, "We have to focus on progressing from what might be considered a low point in 1998 and moving forward, hopefully going higher and reverting back to what we had in the past."

Connerly, who has taken his crusade against what he calls racial preferences nationwide with campaigns in Washington and Florida, said the figures vindicated his argument that the old system of affirmative action did not do much more than create ill will.

"I've been saying that we need a new paradigm about affirmative action and that's really where we're headed," Connerly said. "Everybody's looking at California to see how we can come up with a new concept of affirmative action."

But an affirmative action supporter, Pedro Noguera, an ethnic studies professor at Berkeley, viewed the numbers slightly differently.

"It tells me that the university, the admissions office in particular, has been working hard at getting students to apply," he said. "I think they're still working against the damage which was done."

Last year, admissions of underrepresented minorities dropped 61 percent at Berkeley and 36 percent at the University of California at Los Angeles. Other campuses had smaller declines, and some even posted slight increases, so the systemwide total was a less dramatic drop of about 9 percent.

This year, Berkeley, which turned away three of every four applicants, admitted 29 percent more underrepresented minorities than last year.

Berkeley took a more detailed approach to admissions, looking at factors like parental education and income levels, how the student did in comparison with others in the high school and how many honors courses the students took compared with how many were offered.

University admissions policies allow consideration of individual hardship and Connerly applauded the more comprehensive approach, although he had some reservations about the honors-course component. Efforts to reward students doing their best at bad schools are better addressed by the university's new policy of extending eligibility to the top 4 percent of students in every high school, Connerly said.

The number of white students at Berkeley also rose, with 2,871 admitted, up 7 percent from last fall. That increase may have something to do with the larger number of students last year who declined to state their ethnicity, the majority of whom are believed to be white. This year, more students stated their ethnicity. Over the two years, admissions of whites rose by 146 students, or 5 percent.

The number of Asian students offered admission totaled 3,196, up 7 percent from the fall 1998 figure. Asians did not get preferences under affirmative action but are the largest group on campus. Compared with fall 1997 admissions, the increase was 271 students, or 9 percent.

On all eight undergraduate campuses, admissions of Hispanics this year actually surpassed 1997 levels by 2 percent (5,622 to 5,753) while the numbers of Indian and black students were higher than in 1998 but still below 1997 levels.

Despite the improvement, Professor Noguera said the figures did not come close to reflecting California's racial makeup. Hispanic residents, for example, make up 29 percent of the state's population but only 12 percent of the fall 1999 admissions.

IN AMERICA
By BOB HERBERT c. The New York Times 4/8/99

SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. -- During the daylight hours the interior of Nellie Perez's home is nearly as dark as night. She lives with her disabled husband and five others in a dangerously rickety shack in Guadalupe, a tiny poverty-racked town tucked in the midst of one of the most affluent areas in America.

Guadalupe is part of Maricopa County, one of the fastest-growing counties in the country. Its neighbors, which include Phoenix, Tempe, Paradise Valley and Scottsdale, are feasting on the nation's unprecedented economic boom. Million-dollar homes and splendidly manicured golf courses abound. Some of the malls are glittering jewels.

But as Andrew Cuomo, the U.S. Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, said during a visit on Tuesday, Guadalupe is different. It was not invited to the economic feast. "That wealth," said Cuomo, "is not their wealth."

When night falls, Guadalupe, populated mostly by Yaqui Indians and Mexican-Americans, goes to bed hungry.

Mrs. Perez's home was built from scraps -- old doors, tarpaper, chicken wire, rotted wooden planks. It is like something from the third world in the 19th century, not the United States on the verge of the 21st. There is no bathroom, no running water, no electricity and no heat. The air is so close it is difficult to breathe. When I asked where the bathroom was, Mrs. Perez, an affable woman in her 50's, pointed across the street to a reeking outhouse.

Cuomo stopped by the Perez dwelling during his daylong tour. Mrs. Perez led him through the four dark and cluttered rooms. There was no floor, only planks, or the bare ground. "I'm sorry it's a little bit dirty," Mrs. Perez said.

Cuomo has been trying to spread the word that even with the economy booming, and the Dow hurdling the 10,000 barrier, and millionaires being created at an astonishing rate, there are still many Americans struggling with the equivalent of an economic Depression.

"Real people are suffering," said Cuomo. "And now is the time to do something about that. Now is the time to invest in the things we know how to do that would make their lives better, that would bring housing and jobs to their communities -- now, when the economy is strong and we have the largest surplus in history. If not now, when?"

Guadalupe is not an aberration. There are many pockets of extreme poverty across the country. Cuomo mentioned the Indian reservations, citing specifically the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, home of the Oglala Sioux. He spoke of the continuing poverty among African-Americans in the inner cities, and among whites in parts of Appalachia and other rural areas. He spoke of the struggles faced by poor Hispanic families in Arizona and in Texas, especially those near the Mexican border.

"The Dow at 10,000 almost makes the irony crueler," Cuomo said. "This phenomenon of terrific economic growth and yet so many people just left out. There is no reason why in 1999 Americans should be living in shacks, literally. This should be a nightmare from the past."

Cuomo said his department was attempting to bring affordable housing and economic opportunity to struggling Americans, but the need is immense and he acknowledged that the resources available from HUD were not nearly enough. He said he was trying to bring more public attention to the plight of the poor.

"This is not something you hear much about," he said. "By definition the people affected are voiceless, because they are poor. They are not on television. They are not in the newspapers. For most Americans a place like Guadalupe does not exist."

Cuomo seems to speak with more passion now than he did a few years ago, and he seems more comfortable as he travels the country, meeting with the powerful and listening to the powerless. His message is one that has not been particularly popular for many years now -- that the country as a whole has an obligation to do what it can to assist those who are in danger of being left behind economically.

Before saying goodbye to Mrs. Perez on Tuesday, Cuomo asked if she had ever heard of the Dow Jones.

"The Dow Jones?" she said. "What does that mean?"

Native-American Owned Frozen Fusion Accelerating Franchise Development On Three Fronts in 1999

BUSINESS WIRE April 07, 1999

SCOTTSDALE, ARIZ. - Frozen Fusion, a nationally franchised chain of smoothie and juice stores, has launched an international franchise program that will be introduced this week in Washington, DC at the International Franchise Expo, April 9 - 11, at the Washington, DC Convention Center.

Frozen Fusion's domestic and international franchising programs, as well as its move into the non-traditional area, are being headed up by Executive Vice President Richard Pope.

With more than 25 years in franchise development, Pope came to Frozen Fusion from Midas International, where, in addition to his domestic responsibilities, he was charged with opening up shops in new international territories. Prior to his work in the automotive industry, Pope worked at a senior level in franchise development for Swensen's Ice Cream and the Ramada Hotels.

With a proven track record in overseas expansion, Pope is enthusiastic about Frozen Fusion's new thrust into the international arena. According to Pope, "I have no doubt that 1999 will be the year Frozen Fusion goes international. We had so many requests to expand overseas that we commissioned an independent firm to conduct research on 120 countries with strong market potential.

"After analyzing this data, we formulated a strategic plan for our international launch with guidelines for ensuring our high quality standards are uniformly maintained worldwide. Attendees at the International Franchise Expo, many of whom are looking for hot American concepts to launch overseas, will be among the first to see the new programs that we've developed."

Pope sees the popularity of the smoothie concept as fueling the company's aggressive expansion. "In a 14-month period, we opened 20 new stores, making us one of the fastest growing smoothie franchises in the country. In locations that have been open a year or more, our sales are up significantly," Pope said.

Pope believes that Frozen Fusion's recipe for success is its healthful, high-energy, custom-blended fruit smoothie drinks in combination with high trafficked locations.

"The Frozen Fusion concept transports easily, and fruit is very popular in the countries where we are exploring new markets. With our advanced throughput system, our nutritious smoothies can be prepared in less than a minute, making them very appealing to operators. The retail outlets are well-suited for high density metropolitan areas because of the small 400 to 800 square-foot size of the stores," Pope said.

Currently, Frozen Fusion has multiple locations in nine states, in cities that include Scottsdale and Phoenix, Ariz.; Washington, D.C.; Philadelphia; Berkeley; Los Angeles; Chicago; Auburn Hills, Michigan; Denver; Las Vegas and Bethesda, MD. Frozen Fusion also has plans for aggressive domestic expansion, including opening 300 stores within the next 5 years in 25 target markets.

Frozen Fusion is a subsidiary of Native Planet Foods, a privately held company based in Scottsdale, Arizona. Native Planet Foods is majority owned by the Salt River Pima Maricopa Indian Community and is the only Native American-owned franchise company in the country.

The company is set up so that a portion of the earnings support critical tribal programs in health, education and social services. For more information about Frozen Fusion, contact the company directly at 602/948-5604 or 800/240-1507.

Navajos Claim Utah Wasted $100M

.c The Associated Press By PAUL FOY 4/8/99

SALT LAKE CITY (AP) -- When auditors reviewed Utah's handling of an oil-and-gas royalty trust set up by Congress to benefit Navajo Indians, one state lawmaker likened the chronicle of abuses to a cheap novel.

More than $62 million had gone into the trust but only $12 million remained by 1991. The rest, the auditors found, was lost to lax oversight, payoffs, bribes and ill-conceived business ventures.

Now, a federal judge has ruled the Navajos can go ahead with their claim that Utah must make up for abuses dating to the trust's creation in 1933. Their estimate of the damage -- $100 million.

"The attorney general should be calling any minute now to talk about a settlement,'' Brian Barnard, a lawyer for the Navajos, said Wednesday. "I'm not holding my breath.''

The Navajos are Utah's poorest residents. Many reservation areas have no running water or electricity and unemployment runs up to 50 percent.

The idea of setting aside the state's share of oil and gas royalties for the Indians surfaced when Congress decided to expand the Navajo Reservation from New Mexico and Arizona into southeastern Utah, where a number of Navajo clans had fled when Kit Carson marched the tribe into New Mexico in 1865.

Congress made the idea law in 1933. But it wasn't until oil and gas companies started drilling in the Aneth extension oil field about 30 years later that the battle was joined over how the 37.5 percent royalty should be spent. The remaining 62.5 percent is divided between the tribe, headquartered at Window Rock, Ariz., and the Bureau of Indian of Affairs, Barnard said.

In 1991, the year before the Navajos' class-action lawsuit was filed, the Utah Legislature's auditor general reported suspected self-dealing and mismanagement by trust fund officials.

Federal criminal indictments followed, alleging bribery, conspiracy, fraud, money laundering and misuse of tribal funds against seven Navajo Nation leaders in Arizona.

According to the Navajos' lawsuit, Utah breached its duties as the trust's fiduciary -- a role it never wanted and would like nothing more than to shed.

Utah had argued its liability, if any, should be governed by the state's own statute of limitations, or extending only as far back as 1988. But U.S. District Judge David Sam ruled on Friday that no statute of limitations applies to the case -- opening the possibility for a massive judgment if the Navajos can prove mismanagement at trial.

Assistant Attorney General Valden Livingston said federal law placed no special obligation on Utah to properly invest the Navajo royalties. Rather, Utah had only to see that the money was spent on reservation roads, health care and "tuition of Indian children at white schools,'' he said, reading from a federal statute.

The decision means Utah has to provide a complete accounting of the $62 million received or earned by the Navajo Trust Fund between 1955 and 1991, when professional managers took over.

Barnard said the case is "shockingly similar'' to the federal government's century-old mishandling of billions of dollars in Indian trust accounts. That case in February landed Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt in contempt of court for failing to produce documents.

Like the federal case, Utah's 7,500 Navajos claim they've been cheated on their trust funds. Some funds were never invested while others were squandered on bad business deals and "thievery,'' Barnard said.

Utah itself took trust money to build a state office in Blanding under a "sweetheart'' lease deal, Barnard contends, in one of many deals marred by conflicts of interest.

Barnard believes that properly managed, the trust should have grown to $100 million by 1991, even with payments made for the welfare of Navajos.

In 1997, Gov. Mike Leavitt said an out-of-court settlement of the case was best for Utah. But he waited to measure the state's potential liability.

"Our commitment to work it out remains,'' Vicki Varela, the governor's spokeswoman, said Wednesday. "We'll move it forward in the most productive way we can.''

No trial date has been set.

Indians To Face Tougher Tax Rules

.c The Associated Press By PHILIP BRASHER 4/8/99

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The Interior Department wants to make it tougher for Indian tribes to avoid paying taxes on land they acquire off their reservations.

Under rules proposed Thursday, the department said it would start giving greater weight to local concerns when deciding whether to take tribal lands into trust. Federal trust status removes the land from tax rolls and exempts it from zoning controls and other regulations.

Tribes made wealthy by gambling interests have stepped up their purchases of land on and off their reservations, leading to conflicts with local communities. Last year, the department refused to let Minnesota's small Shakopee Mdewakanton tribe remove from the tax rolls 593 acres of land it had purchased near its reservation in the Minneapolis suburbs.

"In restructuring the regulations, we believe that the decision-making process will better reflect the present-day needs and concerns of Indian tribes and surrounding non-Indian communities,'' Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt said.

Tribes often must buy land outside their reservations if they want to diversify economically, and they can't control the property adequately unless it is put into trust, said Ron Allen, president of the National Congress of American Indians and chairman of Washington's Jamestown S'Klallam tribe.

"It's going to make it very difficult for a lot of tribes, both small and large,'' he said.

The rules would make it easier for tribes to get trust status for lands acquired within their reservation boundaries. In such cases, the application process would be streamlined and there would be a strong presumption in favor of the tribe, the agency said.

Tribes have long since lost much of the land they once owned on their reservations because of the government's 19th century allotment policies. About 8 percent of the land lost through allotment has been reacquired.

Most of the land-into-trust applications that the department receives are for small parcels, averaging 30 acres in size, within reservation boundaries.

HUD decides to continue working with the Narragansetts
But the federal agency won't release any more money for the tribe's housing development until several issues are resolved.
By ELIZABETH ABBOTT The Providence Journal-Bulletin 4.8.99

CHARLESTOWN -- The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development will continue working with the Narragansett Indian tribe, despite a recent audit that blasted the tribe for bungling a $4.1-million housing development in Charlestown. HUD's plans were revealed in a March 24 letter from Thomas Boockmeier, an administrator with the agency's Native American Programs, to Stephen D. King, HUD's acting district inspector general. King's office spent a year investigating the Narragansett Indian Wetuomuck Housing Authority. In a report issued in January, the inspector general found the Narragansetts spent $3.2 million on the Narragansett Indian Wetuomuck Community Village ``without developing any low-rent housing units ready for occupancy.'' The tribe had sought to build 50 units of housing on a 31-acre site off Kings Factory Road. But seven years after receiving $4.1 million for the project, only 12 units and six unimproved foundations exist. Not only did the housing not materialize as planned, the Narragansetts failed to follow basic HUD procedures for spending the $3.2 million, the inspector general found. Among other problems, the tribe couldn't document how it awarded $1.8 million in contracts, and it couldn't support an additional $899,771 in spending. HUD should either try to salvage its investment or cut its losses, the inspector general recommended. The agency was given 60 days to respond. In his response, Boockmeier said HUD has assigned a team to help the tribe complete the 12 units that are standing. In addition, engineers from HUD's Rhode Island office will help the tribe review plans, bidding and inspection. Asked why HUD was willing to continue working with the tribe, given the extensive problems outlined in the audit, agency spokesman Stan Vosper said yesterday, ``The intention of this grant was to provide desperately needed housing for the Narragansetts. They still need that housing, and it is HUD's mission to try to meet that need. ``The people who really need the housing aren't the ones who messed up,'' Vosper added. The housing was intended primarily for tribal elders. ``We still want to help them, and if we can work it out that the tribe gets some shelter, then that's what we want to do,'' Vosper said. But HUD won't release any more money for the project until the tribe resolves several issues.

The issues include reaching an agreement with the Town of Charlestown on police and fire protection for the development and complying with environmental regulations set by the state Coastal Resources Management Council. Furthermore, if these matters aren't settled, HUD will ask the Narragansetts to give back what's left of the original grant, a figure estimated to be between $500,000 and $1 million. HUD will also sell what it can of the development and keep the proceeds. HUD is in the process of ``evaluating all parties responsible for the [tribe's] failure to properly administer the project . . .,'' Boockmeier wrote. If warranted, HUD will sanction those responsible, either by limiting their ability to receive HUD funds in the future or barring their participation in any federally financed programs, Boockmeier said.

The controversy over the housing project comes at a time when the Narragansetts are trying, once again, to build a casino in Rhode Island. This time, the tribe has proposed building a 250,000-square-foot casino on 60 acres in West Warwick, but voters must approve the proposal. Speaking this week on behalf of Chief Sachem Matthew Thomas, tribal lawyer John Killoy called HUD's response to the audit ``positive.'' ``It's positive in that they are willing to work with the tribe in completing the development,'' Killoy said. As for the issues HUD expects the tribe to resolve before the agency will release money for the project, Killoy said the Narragansetts have been working diligently with the CRMC and the Town of Charlestown to settle them. ``The tribe is determined to see the project through,'' he said. In addition to the cooperation agreement with Charlestown and meeting CRMC requirements, HUD says the tribe must provide a list of tribal members who are eligible to occupy the units, and it must install such utilities as water and sewerage to the site. ``They're working hard to complete all those things,'' Charlestown's assistant solicitor, Bruce Goodsell, said. But Goodsell wondered how the tribe could meet HUD's requirements without more money.

HUD declared the tribe ineligible for additional money in December 1996, when problems with the housing development were becoming apparent. At that time, the agency classified the tribe's housing authority as ``high risk.'' Despite the designation, in September 1988, HUD approved a $523,937 grant to the tribe, but the grant was conditioned on the tribe's reaching a cooperation agreement with Charlestown, among other things. ``[The Narragansetts] are between a rock and a hard place,'' Goodsell said. The president of the Charlestown Town Council, Charles Beck, said he resents the fact that HUD has made the cooperation agreement a condition of future financing for the tribe. HUD typically requires cooperation agreements between housing authorities and towns in which they are located. The town is not opposed to signing such an agreement -- in theory -- but it doesn't want to be rushed into anything, Beck said. ``It's unfair to the tribe and it's unfair to the town,'' Beck said.

Chief Wahoo protesters burn coffin
By JOHN AFFLECK .c The Associated Press 4/13/99

CLEVELAND (AP) -- Protesters laid Chief Wahoo to rest, then set the Cleveland Indians mascot's coffin on fire as they called on the team to stop using the red-faced caricature with the toothy grin.

"This is the most racist symbol in the country,'' said protester Charlene Teters as about 40 people gathered outside Jacobs Field Monday before the Indians beat the Kansas City Royals 5-2 in their home opener.

The demonstrators feel the Cleveland logo is a degrading image of American Indians.

Their spirits were buoyed by a lawsuit against the city of Cleveland and several police officers, and by a federal ruling against the Washington Redskins.

"Say good-bye to this big-toothed Wahoo,'' exclaimed demonstrator Michael Haney as flames consumed a wooden carving of the mascot.

Some demonstrators pounded out a rhythm on a drum and chanted "Hey! Ho! Racist symbol's got to go'' as the sculpture burned.

Others held signs, including one that read "These honor who?'' and showed versions of Chief Wahoo with the faces of highly stereotyped black, Asian and Hispanic men.

As game time approached, protesters took turns speaking through a megaphone, trying to convince fans strolling into the ballpark that the Wahoo logo is racist.

Their arguments seemed to have little effect on the crowd, many of whom wore the logo on jackets and sweatshirts. A few fans booed the protesters.

No one was arrested on Monday, unlike previous demonstrations that prompted the new lawsuit.

Five protesters who were arrested last year sued the city and police officers late Friday in Cuyahoga Common Pleas Court for allegedly violating their civil rights.

Their claim involves protests dating back to 1997. During the World Series that year, three people were arrested for burning a straw effigy of Chief Wahoo. A municipal judge dismissed the case April 7, 1998.

Three days after the judge's ruling, demonstrators burned another effigy and were arrested. They were jailed for about a day and released without being charged.

The anti-Wahoo protesters' attorney, Terry Gilbert, said the police harassed demonstrators even when they knew a case against them wouldn't hold up in court. That violated the protesters' right to freedom of speech, he said.

"If you can burn a flag, you can burn a Wahoo,'' Gilbert said Monday.

The lawsuit asks for an injunction preventing the city from interfering or arresting protesters outside Jacobs Field.

A police spokesman referred questions to city officials, who had no comment. The Cleveland Indians, who are not named as defendants, declined to comment.

Besides the Cleveland lawsuit, Monday's protest also came on the heels of a trademark panel revoking the Washington Redskins' federal trademark protection, saying the team's name may disparage American Indians.

Teters, a plaintiff in the Cleveland lawsuit and vice president of the National Coalition on Racism in Sports and the Media, said the demonstrators feel they are starting to make progress toward eliminating Wahoo.

"The average person has an awareness of this issue they didn't have before,'' she said.

Teters, who campaigns against Indians mascots across the country, said other communities that have Indian logos for sports teams generally regard Cleveland's as the most derogatory.

"They say to us 'At least we don't have that little red Sambo like they do in Cleveland,''' she said.

Major Indian Groups To Hold Meeting

c. AP 4/12/99

OTTAWA (AP) _ Two of the largest Indian organizations in Canada and the United States plan to meet jointly for the first time to discuss common problems and strategies for solving them. The Assembly of First Nations, Canada's main federation of Indian chiefs, and the U.S.-based National Congress of American Indians will meet in Vancouver in late July, assembly leader Phil Fontaine told a news conference Monday. ``There are many common issues related to land, access to resources, the treaty relationship, poverty-related issues, self-sufficiency and the like,'' Fontaine said. ``It is not good enough, in the common struggle that we're engaged in, to confine ourselves domestically ... our issues must be elevated internationally,'' he added. The organizations hope to emerge from the meeting with recommendations on how they can work together. One preliminary idea is to post reciprocal ambassadors. The four-day meeting is expected to attract 5,000 delegates.

Delaware Child Development Office Opens
c. Bartlesville Examiner-Enterprise 4/13/99

The Delaware Tribe Child Development (DTCD) office has recently opened the No Weta Child Care Center at 1 Industrial Park Road in Nowata, OK. The hours of operation are 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. for children newborn to age 12. The center officially began its operation on Monday, March 15 when it opened its doors to school age children who were on spring break. Infant and Preschool age children were admitted on Monday, March 29. "We are still in the process of hiring more staff," said DTCD Director Sherry Rackliff. "The skills and qualification standards required to operate this type of facility is high. Finding skilled qualified applicants should apply. DTCD is a federally funded program through the Child Care & Development Fund (CCDF). It is funded under the management of the Delaware Tribe of Indians. The service area for DTCD is Washington, Nowata, Rogers, Northern Tulsa and Craig counties in Oklahoma and Montgomery and Labette Counties in Kansas. The determination for service or assistance is based on the order of need. It is Delaware tribal member preference first, then Native American, followed by those whose families receive state assistance, have special needs and then all others requiring child care services. DTCD offers a variety of services to children. These include: Child care tuition assistance for low income Native American children, quality early childhood programs, quality programs, parent education resources, teacher/ community training, collaboration with other community agencies and a family child care home provider network. The Delaware Tribe has received two contracts from the state of Oklahoma to provide a type of mentoring service to recruit and train family day care home providers. 15 homes per contract will be maintained and monthly In home visits and weekly calls or letters will be required. During the in home visits, the Child Care Specialist will provide activities that correlate with the age of the children the home.

Future DTCD facilities will include a center at the planned Tribal Complex in Bartlesville, OK, and a site in Chelsea, OK. A series of special programs will be offered this summer in the Oklahoma/Kansas service areas such Oklahoma Union School Age Care (SAC) and Caney Valley SAC. For information about the Delaware Tribe Child Development Programs. call (918) 336-7657. For information about No-Weta Child Care Center, call (918) 273 2602.

Minority Hires at Papers Criticized
.c The Associated Press 4/15/99

SAN FRANCISCO (AP) -- Newsrooms are still overwhelmingly white and male, despite efforts in recent years to attract minority journalists, a study says.

The percentage of Asian American, black, Hispanic and American Indian newsroom employees rose to 11.55 in 1998 from 11.46 the previous year, according to findings presented Wednesday at the annual convention of the American Society of Newspaper Editors.

For the first time, the survey also counted female journalists, finding they represent about 37 percent of news staffs.

"I still think there are a lot of editors who don't understand the importance of diversity,'' said Nancy Baca, president of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists and an assistant features editor at the Albuquerque Journal in New Mexico.

The survey also showed declines for members of minority groups receiving internships and getting a first full-time journalism job.

Catalina Camia, president of Unity: Journalists of Color, an alliance of Asian-American, Hispanic, black and American Indian journalists, found one unchanged statistic particularly troubling -- 9 percent of newsroom supervisors are minorities.

"These are the positions of real decision-making,'' said Camia, a Washington correspondent for The Dallas Morning News. "Looking at the big picture, these numbers tell us that incredible efforts need to be taken if we are going to get young people of color interested in journalism.''

At the Tuesday session, ASNE announced a series of initiatives, including creation of a national talent bank listing minority students looking for internships or their first jobs.

The board of the Associated Press Managing Editors ratified the list of initiatives. ASNE's goal is for newsrooms to reflect the racial and ethnic makeup of the general population by 2025.

"You can't sell newspapers to people if you don't reflect their communities,'' said N. Christian Anderson, publisher of the Orange County Register and incoming ASNE president. "It's a simple business equation, as well as the right thing to do.''

US: $1.2B Needed for Indian Schools
By PHILIP BRASHER .c The Associated Press 4/14/99

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The Interior Department soon will propose a $1.2 billion plan to replace or repair 170 federal Indian schools, agency officials said Wednesday.

The plan, which was requested by Congress, will recommend replacing 60 of the schools in the worst condition, Bureau of Indian Affairs officials told a Senate appropriations subcommittee.

``Our schools no longer represent, in many cases, an effective learning environment,'' said Kevin Gover, assistant secretary for Indian affairs.

The BIA operates 187 schools in 23 states serving 50,000 students on the nation's poorest reservations. The backlog to repair schools now tops $800 millions, the BIA estimates.

The department's five-year plan would require nearly $250 million annually on school buildings, four times what the BIA is spending this year.

The Clinton administration wants to spend $108 million in 2000. But $30 million of that total would go toward underwriting tribal bond issues, a controversial idea among Republicans.

The budget request would replace as many as six schools if Congress approved the bonding authority.

It is uncertain whether the building program will receive White House or congressional support. The issue has limited political appeal because the BIA's schools are concentrated in a handful of states: Arizona, New Mexico, North Dakota, South Dakota and Washington.

Gover himself expressed frustration with the lack of attention paid to the schools.

"I would love to have a conversation with the president about this, because I know he wouldn't stand for it,'' Gover said.

Sen. Pete Domenici, R-N.M., said the administration was more concerned about aiding inner-city public schools, which are the responsibility of local governments, than making sure federal facilities are adequate.

Sen. Byron Dorgan, D-N.D., said Congress deserves criticism for putting defense programs ahead of the Indian school system.

Tribe awarded grant to battle family violence
by Tim Stares c. Bartlesville Examiner-Enterprise 4/15/99

WASHINGTON - The Osage Indian tribe was awarded a $199,961 Justice Department grant on Friday to continue funding domestic violence programs.

"That's wonderful. I was worried," said Rose Mary Shaw, director of the Osage family violence program. "I think we have enough (money) left for this month. We never know when these grants will take effect."

The Osages were among 42 tribes who were given a total $4.7 million by the department's Violence Against Women Office.. The grant given to the Oklahoma tribe was the fourth largest total among the tribes.

Until the Justice Department started giving money to tribal governments in 1995, the Osage tribe had no programs to help battered women, Shaw said.

Since then, the tribe has won $268,686 to start a shelter, process protective orders and provide 24 hour a day service, Shaw said.

Federal grants are much needed, according to Shawl Running domestic violence programs is much more expensive in rural areas, she said.

Shaw said the new grant will be used to extend the program to non native women, as well as reach out to women from other tribes.

It will also be used to fund a batterer's counseling group and establish a tribal court.

The STOP (Services, Training, Officers and Prosecution) Violence Against Indian Women program started in 1994.

"It was recognized that the native population was an underserved population," said Linda Mansour, a public affairs officer for the Violence Against Women Office. "They were needing services they weren't getting."

Court Debates Methane Gas Dispute
.c The Associated Press By RICHARD CARELLI 4/19/99

WASHINGTON (AP) -- A big-stakes Supreme Court dispute over ownership of methane gas found with the coal under federal land seemed to hinge on one question today: What is coal?

In a lively, hour-long argument session, the justices had trouble coming up with an answer -- one they'll need to decide the case from Colorado by late June. At issue is whether a pair of 90-year federal laws that gave the government ownership of the coal applied as well to the methane gas.

Amoco Production Co., a subsidiary of Amoco Corp., has purchased the right to drill for natural gas on the Southern Ute Tribe's reservation. While coal on the reservation is owned by the government in trust for the tribe, Amoco says the methane found with the coal is a natural gas it is entitled to take.

"You could hardly find a word that was more commonly understood by the average person in 1909 and 1910,'' contended Amoco's Washington lawyer, Carter Phillips. "If you take the coal bed methane out of the coal, what you have left is coal,'' he said. Methane is not part of the coal, he added.

For most of this century, methane gas was viewed only as a dangerous element of coal mining, but relatively recent technology has made coal bed methane commercially valuable.

Phillips was joined in pressing that point by Wyoming Deputy Attorney General Thomas Davidson, who in behalf of five states noted that the court's decision will affect regulatory authority and "tens of thousands of acres (owned by states) for the benefit of our public schools.''

The five states are Wyoming, Montana, New Mexico, North Dakota and Utah.

Lawyers for the Utes and the Clinton administration told the justices a federal appeals court got it right when it ruled last year that the 1909 and 1910 Coal Land acts reserved federal ownership of both coal and methane gas while allowing the land surface to be bought by homesteaders.

When Amoco's lawyers appealed to the nation's highest court, they said the appeals court ruling affected "natural gas worth billions of dollars.''

"The better view is (coal bed methane gas) is part of the coal ... goes with the coal,'' Justice Department lawyer Jeffrey Minear contended. He said "coal'' as used in the laws "describes what nature deposited and miners mined.''

Thomas Shipps, a Durango, Colo., lawyer representing the tribe, said Congress had not intended to reserve rights to "a degasified, dehydrated lump not found in nature.''

It was difficult to determine from questions and comments from the bench which arguments the court found most persuasive.

"It's a tough case, there's no doubt about it,'' Justice John Paul Stevens said at one point.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg asked Phillips, Amoco's lawyer, whether coal owners had "dominion over'' methane gas back when it was not considered an asset. After all, the coal owner would be held responsible for any explosion if efforts to vent the gas failed, she said.

"They were permitted to waste the gas,'' Phillips said. ``What that doesn't give you is title to the (gas).''

When Justice David H. Souter asked Davidson whether gas-rights owners should be able to claim all methane gas found with coal, the Wyoming lawyer answered, "All that can be removed with drilling techniques.''

Justice Sandra Day O'Connor pointedly noted in comments to Minear, the administration's lawyer, that the federal government at one time renounced ownership of the methane gas but changed its stand after the gas became commercially valuable.

And Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist complained that the government "has danced all around the maypole'' on the ownership issue.

Only eight of the nine justices heard arguments in the case. Justice Stephen G. Breyer disqualified himself for unexplained reasons when the case was granted review in January.

The case is Amoco Production Co. vs. Southern Ute Indian Tribe, 98-830.

Native Americans, U.S. Join Forces for 2000 Census
A LOOK AHEAD / Hoping to avoid a repeat of the 1990 undercount on reservations, estimated by government officials at 12% . . .
By ANNETTE KONDO c. LA Times

It's a government line that Native Americans have heard before: trust us.

But Ron Andrade, an American Indian tribal specialist for the U.S. Census Bureau, and Native American leaders say the minority has too much at stake--including millions of dollars in federal funding and political clout--to risk an inaccurate tally in the 2000 census. "Come up to the 1990s and you have guys like me saying, 'Trust me,' " Andrade said recently. "They go, 'Oh no, we aren't going to do that.' " Inaccurate numbers could lead to "statistical extinction" of her people, said Glenda Ahhaitty, who serves on the Los Angeles City-County Native American Indian Commission and a Census Bureau advisory committee on Native Americans. Census officials say they think their 1990 count missed 12.2% of the nation's Native Americans living on reservations. (They also think they missed 4.4% of African Americans, 5% of Latinos and 0.7% of whites.) Although Los Angeles County is home to the largest urban Native American population in the United States, the exact number is disputed. The bureau says there are 45,508 Native Americans in the county based on race. But a 1997 report by the City-County Native American Indian Commission contends the Census Bureau's number of 76,899 based on ancestry provided a better snapshot of the community. Andrade has spent the last year working out of the Census Bureau's regional office in Van Nuys, meeting with tribal governments on reservations throughout Central and Southern California. At times, he said, he has had to gently coax proud egos to forgo the old ways. Instead of writing an obscure clan name on government forms, he urges them to use one of the region's 45 federally recognized tribal names. But the new way can sometimes open old wounds to a time when unrelated tribes were forced to live together on reservations. "One woman told me, 'Don't call me Morongo,' " he said, recalling a visit to the Morongo Indian Reservation in Riverside County. Andrade said the two reached a compromise. She used a hyphenated name combining Morongo and her clan name. While many Native Americans are trying to recapture their culture, Andrade said, the Census Bureau sends the opposite message, telling them to ignore their tribal or clan names and use only those categories in the bureau's database. It doesn't always work."Some of them say, 'Well, just change your computer system,' " Andrade said. A 1994 federal law allowing tribal governments to review address lists and maps to ensure their accuracy prior to the count should improve the 2000 census, Andrade said. Reservations can be a hodgepodge of dusty, pocked roads, sometimes without street signs or addresses. Enumerators often missed residents in 1990 because they lacked housing information. On some Southern California reservations, the undercount was as high as 60% to 70%, Andrade said. A canvasser might think it was impossible for someone to live on some desolate, rocky road. "But they do," Andrade said. "And by having the tribe work with us, they can say, 'Yeah, someone lives up that road.' "

Crossed Signals Create Dead-Ends Other reservation information also needs to be updated, Andrade said. When the Census Bureau sent a letter this year to the Captain Grande reservation in San Diego County, it never received a response. That's because no such tribal government exists, Andrade said. It was split into two reservations, Viejas and Barona, decades ago. In Central California, the Census Bureau still lists some reservations as rancherias, a Spanish-based term that may offend Indians. But an accurate count of urban Native Americans may be the most difficult task. They often travel frequently between city and reservation, making the itinerant population easy to miss. A growing number intermarry with non-Indians and may not list "Native American" as their race on census forms. In many cases, full-blooded Native Americans can have Hispanic surnames, leading enumerators to assume they are Hispanic, said Rose Clark, a Navajo psychologist with United American Indian Involvement, a social service agency in Los Angeles. And some Native Americans of mixed background may check the box on census forms asking if they are of Hispanic origin, which means they would not be counted as an Indian, said Clark, a consultant on the city-county Indian commission census study.

More Choices May Mean Less Power

The Census Bureau is also including an option next year that will allow respondents to check more than one racial category. But some minority group leaders fear it will dilute individual race counts, such as Native Americans. The key number is race, which is used for federal funding and reapportionment, Andrade said. A concern among Native American leaders is that their people may not know the difference between race and ancestry. Dave Rambeau, executive director of United American Indian Involvement, said funding at the agency remained flat after the 1990 census. The agency provides primary dental and health care, alcohol and drug rehabilitation and mental health services for the county's Native Americans."We're concerned that if we don't get a fair count of American Indians, our money base will dwindle again," said Rambeau, a Paiute who is originally from Bishop.

Study finds violence most prevalent among American Indians
c. Tulsa World 4/21/99

The rate of violence among American Indians is much higher than for other minorities and more than double the national average for all races, according to a federal analysis.

Indians suffer 124 violent crimes, such as assaults, rape, robbery and murder, for every 100,000 Indians in the population.

Other facts from the 52-page, U.S. Justice Department report issued in February:

The aggravated assault rate among Indians is three times the national average.

Alcohol and drug use are factors in more than half of violent crimes among Indians.

32 percent of Indian crime victims are injured, the highest among all races.

47 percent of Indians convicted of violent crimes are put in prison or jail, compared to 32 percent for all races.

The murder rate among Indians is 40 percent higher than for whites, and Indian murder victims are more than twice as likely as whites to be killed during a brawl or fight involving alcohol or drugs.

37 percent of Indian murder victims are killed by guns and 28 percent by knives.

Most common violent crimes among Indians -- in order of prevalence -- are simple assault, aggravated assault, robbery, rape and sexual molestation.

Death Valley tribe reclaims homeland

Timbisha Shoshone will help manage Calif. national park

By Deborah Hastings c. Associated Press 4/19/99

DEATH VALLEY NATIONAL PARK, Calif. -- When the strangers shimmered into view, wearing uniforms and guns, tribal elders feared the cavalry had finally come to run them off their land. For centuries, only the Timbisha Shoshone pulled life from Death Valley. No one else wanted this 130-degree desert. It was 1933. The outsiders were U.S. park rangers. The Timbisha cowered, certain they were about to be spit out and their land swallowed by white men thirsty for real estate. They were half right. More than 2 million acres of their homeland were seized for something called a national park. But the tribe wasn't expelled, as others had been. It just seemed that way. When the rangers weren't telling them to move, the borax miners driving 20-mule teams were shooing them to new sites. Eventually, they were shunted to a 40-acre sand bowl. Only 45 remain -- most on welfare, a few holding low-level Park Service jobs -- and the wind blows constantly through their collection of ramshackle trailers. "It's been a long history of harassment," says tribal chairwoman Pauline Esteves, who was 10 in 1933 and still remembers the rangers' coming. But now, perhaps times have finally changed for the Timbisha, the last tribe living in a national park without land rights. In February, its leaders reached a precedent-setting agreement with the U.S. Park Service that grants thousands of acres to the tribe, as well as considerable say over how it is used. Under the agreement, the Timbisha would receive 300 acres at Furnace Creek, the park's main tourist center, which gets thousands of visitors, mostly in the cooler winter months. Using private investment and Housing and Urban Development funds, the tribe wants to build homes, a government center, a gift shop, a medical clinic and a motel with cheaper rates than Furnace Creek's current low of $99 per night. The tribe also would get more than 7,000 acres outside the park from the Bureau of Land Management. The Timbisha Tribal Council is considering building restaurants and motels on the land, located in California and Nevada, especially along the lonely desert stretches of Nevada's north-south U.S. 95. The Timbisha also would get a share in managing a 300,000-acre cultural and land preservation area bearing their name inside the Death Valley National Park. But the tribe, chairwoman Esteves said, is interested in more than land and money. Some 300 Timbisha are scattered across the country, driven from their homeland by poverty. "We want all the Timbisha people to come forward again on their own land," Esteves said. "They've had this feeling that they have no identity. A lot of them have said they will come back if this agreement goes through. We want tribal members to build these places and to run them." The Timbisha find the name Death Valley insulting. Forty-niners named it when several perished seeking a shortcut to Gold Rush country. "Where we live is not dead; it is alive," said tribal spokeswoman Barbara Durham, who was born here, as was her mother. For 66 years, Esteves has watched her tribe dwindle as tourists tramped across land she and other Timbisha believed was theirs. But she does not forget what her mother said when a young Esteves asked, "Aren't we supposed to go, too?" "No. We stay. You don't leave your homeland."

American Indian Museum Design Nixed
c. The Associated Press 4/22/99

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The federal Commission of Fine Arts on Wednesday rejected a revised design for the proposed National Museum of the American Indian.

The Smithsonian Institution museum had been scheduled to open in late 2002 on the National Mall between the National Air and Space Museum and the U.S. Capitol.

J. Carter Brown, the fine arts commission's chairman, said the revised design ``does not come up to the standard we had previously approved'' in 1966.

The original design for the $110 million building was primarily the work of Douglas Cardinal, a Canadian architect with Indian ancestry. Cardinal, however, lost his status as the lead architect a year ago in a contract dispute between the Smithsonian and the former prime architectural contractor for the museum.

The Smithsonian then turned completion of the design over to its own staff and another team of outside architects.

The new version ``lacks the sculptural quality'' and ``so much of the spirit'' of the original design, fine arts commission member Carolyn Brody told The Washington Post.

Smithsonian spokesman David Umansky said the institution took the commission's comments to heart and will come back with a design that will meet its approval. Umansky told the newspaper the Smithsonian still intends to break ground on the project Sept. 28.

Herd manager sees the benefits of bison on American Indian life
BY JOE DUGGAN c. Lincoln Journal Star 4/23/99

When the Winnebago Tribe of Nebraska decided to buy bison five years ago, it asked Louis LaRose to be herd manager. The former director of the Nebraska Commission on Indian Affairs knew little about bison, but in his gut, he knew the tribe needed them. He accepted the job.

So when a concerned neighbor had a question about the animals, he approached LaRose. "He said, "Louis, what are you going to do if they stampede?'" LaRose said Wednesday during a speech at Love Library. "I said, "I'm going to get the hell out of the way. What do you suppose I'm going to do: Stand there waving my arms to try to stop them?'" One minute, LaRose had his audience laughing with his characteristic humor. The next, he commanded thoughtful silence as he spoke about the trials and joys of reconnecting bison to Plains Indian nations. LaRose spoke Wednesday afternoon at the Great Plains Art Collection Gallery during the Paul A. Olson Seminars in Great Plains Studies.

The man with the quick smile and a tuft of gray hair on his chin has come a long way since he started managing that bison herd. He serves as president of the InterTribal Bison Cooperative in Rapid City, S.D., and project director of the Northern Plains Bison Education Network in Bismarck, N.D.

In his official capacity, he works on several bison-related issues, from starting new herds on tribal lands to generating support for bison research to dealing with the "white tape" of federal meat inspectors. The cooperative also has waged a legal fight against the killing of free-range bison by Montana agricultural officials who fear the animals that leave the boundaries of Yellowstone National Park will spread disease to cattle.

And he continues to manage the herd at Winnebago, which now numbers 65. Along the way, he has witnessed many benefits of renewing the historical relationship between bison and Indian people.

For example, LaRose said, the leaner bison meat, when combined with improved diet and exercise, is helping tribal members fight diabetes and heart disease. On the reservation, the meat is prescribed like a pharmaceutical for people with health problems.

It has also reinforced the importance of environmental land practices to provide the bison with native grasses. Having the herd near Winnebago has been spiritually uplifting for the elders and it has helped connect youngsters with their collective past.

"The buffalo are coming back," he said. "And they're making us look back to the history. They're making us look back to the heart and soul of who we are. And it's showing us that many of the ways of the past are best for us." The Winnebago bison herd also helped some of the tribe's most desperate youth. As part of a youth-employment program, LaRose was given several undisciplined young men to help work the herd during the summer.

He recalled initial struggles of trying to work with the youngsters. He almost gave up, but decided to try an impassioned ultimatum: Follow my rules, learn to work like a man and I will give you my respect. If not, leave.

To his surprise, all of the youngsters accepted his challenge.

"They wanted to prove to me," he said. "They wanted to be men. They ended up proving to themselves."

NATIVE AMERICAN LEGISLATIVE UPDATES FOR APRIL 22, 1999

COMMUNITY REINVESTMENT ACT: The Community Reinvestment Act (CRA) was passed in 1977 to affirm that "regulated financial institutions have continuing and affirmative obligations to help meet the credit needs of the local communities in which they are chartered." The Community Reinvestment Act encourages federally insured financial institutions to provide loan services to Indian Country and other traditionally neglected areas. Banks have worked with Native American groups to provide more than $155 million in loans in Indian country since the implementation of CRA. Native American communities have only recently begun to take full advantage of CRA to enable economic development in Indian Country by increasing access to credit. CRA has been used nationally to help create affordable housing and assist first time home buyers, provide loans and technical assistance for small businesses and support other community development projects.

On March 4, the Senate Committee on Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs approved the Financial Services Modernization Act of 1999 which will change aspects of the CRA. Specifically, changes could exempt small, rural banks from coverage by the CRA and make it more difficult for the public to comment on a bank's CRA performance. In addition, the bill would not require that all banks within a holding company have a "satisfactory" CRA rating in order to take advantage of new options provided in the bill.

STATE TAXATION ON TRIBAL TRUST LANDS: On April 12, Representative Istook (OK) circulated a letter to colleagues in the House of Representatives encouraging them to co-sponsor legislation which would attempt to enforce collection of state taxes on tribal lands. Specifically, the bill would allow the Secretary of Interior to remove tribal lands from trust status if businesses located on that land did not comply with state tax laws. In addition, it might jeopardize existing compacts between states and tribes concerning tax collection by encouraging state governments to break existing agreements.

Tribes should be allowed to set their own tax laws and sales made on trust lands should be exempt from state retail sales taxes. In addition, the trust status of tribal lands should be protected and should not be used to pressure tribes into unfair tax agreements.

Representative Istook (OK) is expected to introduce this legislation in the next two to three weeks.

ACTION: Please contact your representatives to urge them to oppose Istook's proposed legislation and any similar efforts to enforce state collection of taxes on tribal trust lands. Likewise, if you are in favor of Istook's proposed legislation, you may contact your representatives to support taxation and erosion of federal trust land status.

R. Aura Kanegis Legislative Associate for Native American Affairs Friends Committee on National Legislation 245 2nd St. NE Washington, DC 20002 (202)547-6000 ext. 112 FAX: (202)547-6019 aura@fcnl.org http://www.fcnl.org

Indian Schools Battle Problems
.c The Associated Press By MATT KELLEY 4/24/99

SALEM, Ore. (AP) -- Two monuments sit on a grassy knoll at the Chemawa Indian School.

One carries the names of two former students who died in an alcohol-related car crash in 1996. The other, a granite marker, memorializes four former students who died in the 1997 crash of a stolen pickup truck.

Other areas of the campus are marred by the scrawls of graffiti, but the monuments are clean. Scattered around them are the offerings of grieving students. A few votive candles, forlorn in the Oregon mist. Some grimy coins. A handful of withering wildflowers. Several purple plastic packages of Jolly Rancher jellybeans.

For those who work here, it's a reminder of what happens to the students the cash-strapped Indian boarding school cannot reach.

"We're on the front lines of life and death here,'' says the school's principal, Larry Byers, a Cherokee. "The destructive behavior we see makes me wonder, if they go home, are they going to be alive in five years?''

Chemawa is the end of the line, the last hope before jail, reform school or life as a dropout for hundreds of deeply troubled American Indian teen-agers. And at nearly 120 years old, it's the oldest continually operated federal boarding school in the United States.

The boarding school system of years past tried to forcibly assimilate American Indians into white culture. Now, Chemawa and the other seven off-reservation boarding schools are primarily dedicated to giving their students tools to cope with their problems and a measure of pride in who they are.

"In the early years, there was an attempt to change students, to take the Indian out of them,'' said Superintendent Louis King, an Oklahoma Seminole. "Today's boarding schools are much more in tune with cultural issues and trying to protect them.''

That task can be daunting. About 400 students begin each school year at Chemawa. More than two dozen are homeless. More than 90 percent will be required to get some form of alcohol or drug treatment during their stay. Some are as many as three years behind on their classwork.

Only about 200 remain at the end of the school year, with around 50 graduating. Some students return to school or enroll in treatment programs back home, but many more fall through the cracks. Chemawa sent surveys to the more than 200 students who left last year but only about 25 responded.

Chemawa and other federal boarding schools got $3,067 per student for their educational programs last year. That's $600 lower than the lowest statewide average spending by public school systems for the 1996-97 school year. The national average per-pupil spending that year was $5,661, according to the National Education Association.

The school's facilities and maintenance budget has been cut every year for the eight years King has been Chemawa's superintendent.

Chemawa's agricultural program, once the pride of the school, now runs only through donations from the Daughters of the American Revolution. Carpet hasn't been replaced in some dorms and academic areas since the buildings opened in 1980 -- before most students were born.

"When these cuts build up year after year, things will eventually come crashing down on you,'' King said.

Navajos Claim Sweeping Jurisdiction
.c The Associated Press By MICHELLE RUSHLO 5/13/99

PHOENIX (AP) -- In a case that could test the legitimacy of tribal courts throughout the country, the Navajo Supreme Court ruled it has criminal jurisdiction over all Indians on the reservation regardless of whether they are Navajo.

The case has drawn national attention for the legal questions it raises about tribal sovereignty and because it involves Russell Means, the former leader of the American Indian Movement who led a 1973 uprising at Wounded Knee, S.D.

"Every tribe is going to take a careful look at this,'' said Robert Williams, professor of law and American Indian studies at the University of Arizona. "The stakes are very big.''

Means was charged in a Navajo court in December 1997 with beating his father-in-law. Means, an Oglala Sioux, said he should not be prosecuted by another tribe and challenged the 1991 federal law passed authorizing tribal courts to try Indians from other tribes.

In a 3-0 ruling Tuesday, the Navajo Supreme Court cited a 1977 U.S. Supreme Court decision that defined "Indian'' as a political rather than a racial category.

The court also pointed out that Means married a Navajo woman, lived on the reservation and conducted business there -- all evidence, it said, that he should be subject to the Navajo judicial system.

Means contended that the 1991 law is discriminatory because it says non-Indian defendants are not subject to tribal courts, but does not make a distinction for Indians who aren't members of the ruling tribe.

"I haven't any rights on any reservation in America except my own, so I want to be treated like any other American,'' Means said Thursday from his home in Santa Fe, N.M.

Means, 59, who has appeared in such films as "Natural Born Killers'' and "The Last of the Mohicans,'' plans to appeal the Navajo court's decision in federal court.

Navajo prosecutor Donovan D. Brown was traveling on Thursday and didn't immediately return a call seeking comment.

Indians rally to demand equality for citizens living in U.S. 'Indian Country'
Congress urged to respect tribal self-government and treaty rights
By ALLISON STEVENS c. The Billings Gazette May 13, 1999

WASHINGTON - Like the beat of the tribal drum, a cry for equality echoed through the nation's capital Wednesday. "We want America to stop ignoring Indian country!" chanted Billings native and Crow tribal leader Dennis Big Hair Sr. after singing the opening prayer at an American Indian rally Wednesday on the steps of the Capitol.

Sen. Ben Nighthorse Campbell, R-Colo., addresses the American Indian rally Wednesday on the steps of the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C. Behind him is Rep. Patrick Kennedy, D-R.I., a founder of the Congressional Native American Caucus. The rally attracted more than 700 tribal leaders, including several from Montana and Wyoming.

Dressed in a headdress and native garb, Big Hair's invocation kicked off a string of speeches by sympathetic members of Congress and tribal leaders from around the country who encouraged Congress to respect tribal self-government and treaty rights. "The federal government is not paying you what it owes you for the land that you gave us," proclaimed Rep. Patrick Kennedy, a Democrat from Rhode Island and a founder of the Congressional Native American Caucus. "Native Americans are no minority group," Kennedy said. "Native Americans are their own people, their own political entity. They are not demanding a handout but what is theirs to begin with."

More than 700 tribal leaders and numerous members of Congress attended the event, which was sponsored by the National Congress of American Indians. Subjects included tribal sovereignty, treaty rights, the federal trust obligation and economic development. Many objected to what they called the hypocrisy of a federal government that allows gambling in the states in the form of lotteries and horse racing, but regulates gambling on Indian reservations. Another common refrain was an allegation that the Department of the Interior mishandled the federal trust obligation to protect Native Americans. "Don't let the federal government do what it did with your federal trust funds - and botch it up," Kennedy warned. "We want action now," demanded Big Hair, who has traveled to Washington four times since January to discuss legislation with President Clinton and members of Congress. "Nothing has changed yet. But I'm here sweating in the sun trying to make some changes."

American Indians disagreed over what constitutes the most pressing challenge facing tribes in Montana, but poor health care, deficient education and stunted economic development were mentioned repeatedly as major problems. "We thought education was the No. 1 problem," Big Hair said. "But we figured we were losing so many to poor health that that became the worst." Alvin Windy Boy, tribe councilman of the Chippewa Cree in Montana, said poor health care is killing Indian Americans in huge numbers. "The government needs to look in its own back yard. A health care epidemic is still prevalent in Indian Country," Windy Boy said, adding that per capita spending on health care for Indians is $1,400, compared with $3,800 spending on non-native Americans. Windy Boy called for government funding to aid Indian Americans on the scale of a Marshall Plan, the massive U.S. assistance program to reconstruct Europe after World War II. Windy Boy added that he was frustrated that $100 million was recently pledged to Kosovar refugees for health care - money he said is desperately needed by American Indians. But Tom Rodgers, a member of the Blackfeet tribe in Montana and a consultant in Washington, said the biggest problem concerns poorly educated children and lack of awareness of native sovereignty among members of the government and the public. "The main objective," Rodgers said, "is to try and educate the American public as to the legal status of Native Americans as well as our culture, history and uniqueness." "The biggest challenge for Montana," he continued, "is an appreciation for the concept of sovereignty."

Spike Bighorn, tribal leader for the Assiniboine and Sioux tribes in Fort Peck, called the lack of economic development the paramount concern. "Realistically, jobs and employment are the biggest problems for our tribe," he said. While different tribal leaders assert different priorities, all agreed that a good solution is to create jobs by encouraging Indian Americans to use effectively the natural resources on their reservations, including water, gas, coal and oil. Montanans applauded the Montana delegation for support and openness, but criticized the federal government for continually putting off American Indian issues.

Istook targets tax loophole for tribes
By JIM MYERS c. Tulsa World 5/14/99

Taxes on retail sales to nontribal members sought in legislation. WASHINGTON -- U.S. Rep. Ernest Istook, R-Okla., announced Thursday that he once again is pushing legislation designed to force Indian tribes to pay taxes on retail sales to nontribal members. Istook's effort in that area last year was derailed by House leaders as part of their successful deal to get Oklahoma Republican, Rep. Wes Watkins, to run for another term.

Watkins had supported Istook's proposal but viewed it as too controversial for Republicans from states with large Indian populations in an election year.

Out of concern expressed by several tribes, Istook has altered his approach to the contentious issue this year.

Istook's previous bill barred tribes from putting additional land into trust until they reached a settlement with states over payment of state taxes. His 1999 bill would allow a governor or state attorney general to petition the federal government to remove land from trust if businesses on that land fail to pay appropriate taxes.

John Albaugh, Istook's top aide, said the congressman took the different approach on the legislation after tribes that had entered into agreements with states complained his previous approach treated all tribes as "bad actors.''

Critics of Istook's 1998 version also viewed it as a direct attack on tribal sovereignty.

Indian tribes do not have to pay state retail taxes on products sold to tribal members, but a series of U.S. Supreme Court rulings state they can be required to pay taxes on those same items sold to nonmembers.

Those same rulings, however, failed to give states a mechanism to force those tax payments, leaving that issue up to Congress.

Each year, Istook said, Oklahoma and other states lose many millions in tax revenue be cause tribes refuse to pay taxes on sales to non-Indians of items such as gasoline and cigarettes. Moreover, he said, their failure to pay taxes gives their businesses a key advantage over competitors.

"This bill restores fairness for business and respect for our laws,'' Istook said. "Tribal businesses which do not have a compact agreement, and which fail to collect taxes owed, are hurting law-abiding competitors and depriving state government of revenue, thus keeping taxes higher for honest taxpayers.''

On cigarette taxes alone, he said, Oklahoma loses at least $27 million annually.

Larger states lose even more; Istook said New York, for example, loses $65 million a year on untaxed cigarettes.

"States are losing millions, and only Congress can stop it,'' he said. "Some Indian tribes are keeping those millions for themselves and using them for political contributions and high- dollar lobbyists to protect how they are profiting from tax evasion.''

Heart disease rates rise among American Indians

c. Reuters May 13, 1999

NEW YORK, - The rate of heart disease in American Indians is twice as high as in the general US population, and still rising, according to results of a new study. The rise in heart disease among Native Americans may be due to a high rate of diabetes in this ethnic group, report researchers in the May 11th issue of Circulation: Journal of the American Heart Association. Beginning in 1989, investigators led by Dr. Barbara V. Howard of the Medlantic Research Institute and Washington Hospital Center in Washington, DC, examined the cardiovascular health of over 4,500 members of 13 US tribes - the Pima, Maricopa, and Papago Indians of Arizona; the Apache, Caddo, Comanche, Delaware, Fort Sill Apache, Kiowa and Wichita tribes of Oklahoma; the Oglala and Cheyenne River Sioux of South Dakota; and the Spirit Lake Tribe of North Dakota. They then followed the medical histories of study participants for about 4 years. The authors report that "coronary heart disease incidence rates among American Indian men and women were almost 2-fold higher'' than those seen in a study examining rates of heart disease in the general US population. The investigators also found that mortality rates from heart disease were significantly higher among Native American men versus women. "Diabetes was strongly associated with disease in both men and women,'' the researchers say, "with diabetic men having a 2.2-fold increased risk of cardiovascular disease and diabetic women having a 3.5-fold increased rate compared with nondiabetic individuals.'' "Contrary to other US ethnic groups, American Indians have rates of cardiovascular disease that appear to be rising,'' Howard and colleagues conclude. They note that native populations "have been undergoing rapid changes in lifestyle'' over the past few decades. Changes in patterns of diet or exercise may be leading to increased rates of obesity, diabetes, and kidney disease among American Indians; risk factors that may be contributing to the rise in heart disease. Based on their findings, Howard's team suggests that community-based risk factor prevention programs "may help to stem this rising tide of diabetes-associated coronary heart disease in American Indians and in other populations.''

BIA trust cleanup is promised
By JIM MYERS World Washington Bureau 5/15/99

The head of the federal Indian affairs agency says the days when critics could take a free shot at his agency are over. WASHINGTON -- Key Clinton administration officials vowed Friday to correct the historic chaos surrounding Indian trust accounts that are worth billions before they leave office, and they lashed out at critics of a new system that is scheduled to be put in place over the next year. They also accused their critics, even though some of them are Indian themselves, of picking up where those who designed anti- tribes programs in the last century left off.

U.S. Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt termed as ``deep condescension'' the tendency by some to blame the Bureau of Indian Affairs and push it out of the way.

Kevin Gover, Babbitt's assistant secretary and head of the BIA, made it clear that the days when critics could take a free shot at his agency are over.

Gover is a member of the Pawnee Tribe of Oklahoma.

More than 90 percent of BIA employees are Indian, he said, and those who say the trust fund account issue is too big for the agency to fix must keep that in mind.

"This in no way reflects the Bureau of Indian Affairs today,'' Gover said in remarks recorded for BIA employees across the nation to hear, "but there are still those who promote the concept, for their own selfish reasons, that the BIA today is still in business of persecuting Indians.

"Even more dangerous are the jaded and callous attempts by some to continue to portray us as the continuation of the shameful legacy of the past.

"I find it offensive and sickening that hard-working American Indian people of this bureau are being cast in this light.''

Gover said the tactics used by critics of the BIA are no less offensive than the "ethnocentric statement of the non-Indian attackers in the past.''

Problems with trust accounts, he said, are rooted in the way the system was first set up in 1887.

Babbitt agreed, adding he believes that the system was set up that way to open Indian assets to non-Indians.

Gover said: "We did not break this system, but we are going to fix it.''

While expressing confidence that his agency can correct the problems, Babbitt also stressed that Indians with trust accounts must not count on large reimbursements.

"There is not a windfall out there,'' he said.

Gover once again said he would resign if the Clinton administration ever refused to give him the necessary tools to clean up the problem.

Critics of the federal government kept up their attack and once again accused it of a ``campaign of misinformation,'' specifically on whether it will be taxpayer funds that will be used to reimburse Indians with mismanaged trust accounts.

Jim McCarthy, a spokesman for the legal team that is suing over the BIA's handling of the accounts, said any money given to Indians will be money that their assets earned.

Account records, he said, are in such bad condition, with some of them found in barns and even wells, that there is no way the new system can succeed.

He predicted that the trial judge will throw out the new system and force the BIA to adopt another one.

The lawsuit represents 500,000 Indians, and McCarthy said many of them are living in poverty.

New Computers for Indian Trust Fund
.c The Associated Press By PHILIP BRASHER 4/29/99

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The Interior Department is spending $60 million on a new computer system to manage Indian trust funds without knowing if it will work, congressional investigators say.

A report released Thursday by the General Accounting Office warned that the department is making the same mistake as other agencies, including the Federal Aviation Administration and the Internal Revenue Service. They spent millions of dollars on new systems without making sure that the computers would do the job.

Interior is responsible for $3 billion in trust funds that officials say were mismanaged for decades, and the department is being sued by a group of account holders.

The money, which belongs to both tribes and individual Indians, includes lease revenue, royalties and court settlements.

The new computer system is supposed to give Indians a way to check their funds at any time and link the accounts with Interior's land records. The system is supposed to be operational in the Bureau of Indian Affairs' Billings, Mont., regional office in June and working in all other BIA regions by the end of next year.

Interior officials say they saved planning time by buying software off the shelf.

"We need to get this fixed now rather than spending another two to three years studying it,'' said BIA spokesman Rex Hackler. "The BIA is going to incredible lengths to make sure this system is working by the deadlines that have been set.''

The GAO report says that Interior went ahead with the project without analyzing its needs adequately and ensuring that it could handle its trust information, which requires linking data from different systems.

Without doing that, "agencies are at risk of building and buying systems that are duplicative, incompatible and unnecessarily costly to maintain and interface,'' the report said.

The FAA had to spend an extra $38 million to make its air traffic control systems work together because it had failed to plan properly, the report noted.

A lawyer for the Indians who are suing the department said Interior should delay the new accounting system. "We want this solved, too, but there's no need to throw money away,'' said Keith Harper of the Native Americans Rights Fund.

Kenai tribe fights for subsistence
By JON LITTLE c. Daily News May 7, 1999

SOLDOTNA - The Federal Subsistence Board has agreed to take a second look at whether the entire Kenai Peninsula should qualify for subsistence hunting and fishing rights.

Members of the Kenaitze Indian Tribe, based in the city of Kenai, have argued for years that the board mistakenly declared the Kenai-Soldotna area off-limits to subsistence in the early 1990s.

The tribe seeks more elbow room to revitalize traditional fishing practices on the Kenai River, Alaska's most-regulated, most-intensely fished salmon stream.

Elders remember a time when the tribe would fish the various salmon runs, whether it was early kings in the river or midsummer red salmon off the Cook Inlet beach. They want to recapture the culture and tradition that went with that, said James Showalter, the tribe's chairman.

"It's just a way of life we are raised and used to. The way we see it, it was there for our use," he said.

Word that the tribe was seeking federal subsistence rights late last year touched off heated debate in public meetings across the Kenai Peninsula.

Opponents say the region, especially the Kenai River corridor, is far too developed to qualify as rural for subsistence.

"It's certainly hard for us, or most anyone, to justify an area being called rural where you have a huge Kmart store, three or four huge grocery stores and ready access to everything, and it's on the major highway system of Alaska," said Ron Rainey, a Kenai River lodge owner and president of Cook Inlet Public Fisheries Council, a coalition of sport and personal-use fishing groups.

The federal board agreed to a special review of the Peninsula's subsistence designation during its annual meeting in Anchorage on Wednesday. The Peninsula's most densely populated areas - Kenai-Soldotna, Seward to Moose Pass and Homer to Anchor Point - are considered nonrural.

The board has set a May 2000 deadline for a decision on the tribe's request to declare all of the Peninsula rural. If the region is declared rural, all residents - Native and non-Native alike - would become eligible subsistence users. The federal board would need to make separate determinations on which stocks would be open. It has no control over fisheries now, but the federal government has threatened to take control of fishing on waters running across federal lands statewide later this year.

The Kenaitze tribe told the board that the region has been treated unfairly. Tribe officials point out that the village of Saxman was given federal subsistence rights even though it is largely engulfed by Ketchikan.

The tribe also noted that the cities of Kodiak and Sitka were granted subsistence rights, even though they are larger than Kenai and Soldotna. Kodiak and Sitka were designated rural almost 10 years ago because they aren't on the road system.

The Peninsula's subsistence status is up for review every decade. The process was scheduled to begin in 2002 using data from the 2000 census. But the tribe convinced the board that an additional three years was too long to wait, said Taylor Brelsford, head of planning for the board.

"What was considered persuasive in this case were the inconsistencies of 1990's decision and the hardship represented by the testimony of the Kenaitze members," he said.

Tribal members have testified that they have difficulty gathering enough fish to feed their families under existing sportfishing and personal-use regulations, as well as a special educational permit that lets the tribe set a single gillnet near the mouth of the Kenai River.

Sportfishing advocates say state personal-use regulations, which grant a 25-salmon limit to each licensed fisherman, should suffice. Each summer, throngs of dipnetters swarm the Kenai River mouth to fill their freezers.

"The personal-use fishery is set up as an urban subsistence tool," Rainey said. "When they want to combine a subsistence lifestyle on top of an urban area already served by regulations that allow personal use, it's double-dipping in my opinion."

This week's decision triggers months of information gathering, Brelsford said. The board will want to know where tribal members live, how they fit into the local economy and how they rely on fish and wildlife, he said.

Indian Museum Will Open on Time
.c The Associated Press By CARL HARTMAN 5/10/99

WASHINGTON (AP) -- Rick West, director of the National Museum of the American Indian, said Monday that groundbreaking for its first Washington building has been delayed until late summer or early fall by a dispute over architect Douglas Cardinal and his design.

He added that Cardinal was "an architect that the Smithsonian is never going to hire again'' but said the museum would open next door to the Air and Space Museum on time late in 2002. Cost is estimated at $110 million. Ground was to have been broken early this year.

The Smithsonian Institution runs 15 museums and the National Zoo, and is sponsoring the Indian museum too.

West is a Cheyenne Indian. Cardinal, a Canadian, has Indian ancestors.

The Smithsonian hired a new architectural firm, complaining that Cardinal had not presented all the drawings he promised. Washington's Fine Arts Commission last month turned down the new firm's design changes. Chairman J. Carter Brown denounced as "ugly'' a thick column proposed to hold up a bold overhanging roof.

"They're working diligently to come up with changes we can all agree on,'' he said in an interview.

The commission meets again May 20, but West was not certain that a new version of the design would be ready. Although Brown said he thought the column could be eliminated, it was still there in a projection shown at a Smithsonian news conference Monday.

Cherokee awards salute eclectic group of recipients

By JOHN WOOLEY c. Tulsa World 5/9/99

The Cherokee Medal of Honor awards presentation may be brand-new, but it's already got one of its recipients pretty excited.

"Of all the awards I've received, this one probably means the most, because I'm Cherokee," says Tulsan Jim Halsey, the much-decorated impresario and music-business veteran. "My mother was Cherokee, and I know that she would be proud. And the fact that this comes from my heritage is important to me."

Halsey will join an eclectic group of honorees that includes such well-known entertainment figures as singer-songwriter Rita Coolidge, actor Wes Studie and songwriter John D. Loudermilk, as well as arts patron Alice Timmons and Cherokee National Historical Society founder Marty Hagerstrand.

"People all across the United States are involved in this," says the Cherokee Honor Society's Debbie Duvall. "The purpose of it is to recognize individuals who have brought esteem and prestige to the Cherokee people. These Cherokee celebrities we're honoring were available to be with us at this point, and we are also honoring some Cherokee people who've made their marks locally. All of them make great role models for our youth."

The other recipients of this inaugural round of awards are sculptor-artist Bill Glass Jr., opera sing er Barbara McAlister, actress-producer Valerie Redhorse and actor Tom Allard.

"We've also been in contact with Mr. James Earl Jones," Duvall notes. "He tried hard to be here, but he couldn't because of a scheduling conflict. We hope he'll be able to participate at a future date."

The awards ceremony is scheduled for 5 p.m., following the opening of the Trail of Tears Art Show at the Cherokee Heritage Center at 1 p.m. and the awards ceremony for the art-show winners at 3 p.m. After the awards are presented, a barbecue dinner will be served on the grounds.

With well-known musical names like Coolidge, Loudermilk and McAlister taking part in the event, the question arises: Will any of them be performing?

"Of course, the honorees will have the opportunity to perform if they want to, but we're certainly not going to ask them," says Duvall. "We do know that Barbara is going to be singing the National Anthem and, probably, `America the Beautiful.' But she volunteered. We didn't ask her."

They did, however, ask a passel of Red Dirt musicians to play throughout the day. (The "Red Dirt" designation refers to a loosely knit group of Oklahoma performers whose roots lie not only in the 1970's Texas singer-songwriter tradition but run all the way back to Woody Guthrie.)

"A lot of the Red Dirt people are part-Cherokee, and they all write about living in Oklahoma," Duvall says. "Some of their songs go clear back to Indian Territory. We felt that they would work well for this."

An Open Letter from Western Delaware President, Larry Snake regarding the recent tornadoes.

Special 5/9/99

We, my family and myself made it through the storms OK... I was in Tulsa, Oklahoma, 130 miles NE of Oklahoma City, attending a conference at the time of the tornado's beginning and subsequent damage... I spent a good portion of the night inside the main ballroom of the hotel (Hotel's storm shelter) because of the storm... I had received a calls from my family to let me know that they all were all right and not to worry... Their houses were not damaged by the hail nor the tornadoes...

The tornado's came within a mile of my parents and my brothers homes in Midwest City, Oklahoma... The tornado's originated about six mile south of Anadarko, Ok., which is eight miles south of the Delaware Tribal Complex... They then moved in a East, Northeasterly direction toward Oklahoma City... Del City, Midwest City are suburbs on the East side of Oklahoma City and were the hardest hit.

This was the most destructive storm that I have ever seen... The tornado varied in width from a quarter mile wide to just over three miles wide, with winds estimated over three hundred miles per hour... It looked like a giant brushhog had went through the countryside... The devastation is just unreal, unbelievable.... I saw a lot of the damage on the television but, when I saw some of the damage in person it put a whole different perspective on the awesome power of the storm...

Cars were twisted and smashed into the size of large coffee tables... The grass and trees were sucked out of the ground to where the ground looked similar to a plucked chicken... Pieces of homes were no larger than a foot and a half long... There are vehicles in trees, inside of building and homes, wrapped around trees and poles... Tractor trailers overturned, malls and motels with only side walls standing, no roofs or upper stories... Everything looked like it had been through a blender... Trash everywhere...

There are people who lost everything, home, car, clothes, furniture, outbuildings, everything... Approximately 1500 homes were leveled in the OKC area alone... Some of the foundations were ripped out the ground also... The small town of Mulhall, North of OKC about 40 miles, population 260, was totally wiped out... Only two partial house structures standing... What a mess!!! It will be a long time before the towns are back to where they were, if ever...

We are trying to find some tribal members who live in the affected areas... We have set up a drop off point for clothes, batteries, diapers, pet food, baby food, non-perishable foods, blankets, pillows, toys, furniture, etc.. for the people who are without. The Tribe and our Gaming facility has given $2500.00 and have asked that the other Tribes and/or Indian gaming establishments match or exceed what we are able to give... It is amazing the turn-out of people who are willing to give and to help... People are coming from California, Arizona, and other states to help with the high voltage power lines and with the natural gas lines that are all tore up...

e-mail address is: chief@westerndelaware.nsn.us

Larry Snake

Tribe Works to Save Fox
Voluntary Assistance Helps Animals Rebound
By Todd Wilkinson c. The Christian Science Monitor May 20, 1999

BROWNING, Mont.--Seated in a pickup truck alone on a vast table of Western savannah, Ira Newbreast squints into the sun, looking for two brown specks accelerating across a treeless grassland. Pressing binoculars to his face, he finds them a pair of swift foxes hunting for ground squirrels in an isolated corner of the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. Newbreast smiles. The tribal wildlife manager knows his experiment to rescue one of the prairie's rarest species and one of his tribe's most revered animals is working. Now he hopes it will serve as a lesson for other land managers and possibly even members of Congress contemplating conservation programs for a number of creatures. As lawmakers in far-off Washington kvetch about how much they should do to prevent species from becoming extinct, the Blackfeet have quietly produced a possible model for how to avoid future conflict. The idea: If you voluntarily assist a species today, you can prevent the need for federal intervention tomorrow.

Forgo the Red Tape

"I remain convinced that this is a great way to go about species conservation, "says Minette Johnson, a program associate for Defenders of >Wildlife, a national leader in pushing similar reintroductions. "It proves that some animals can be recovered without a lot of red tape or conflict with traditional land users."

The Blackfeet's fox reintroduction is among a growing movement of >wildlife restoration projects that have roots with nongovernmental organizations and the private sector. The initiatives have moved forward largely out of frustration with the cost, amount of wasted time, and divisiveness that have plagued species-recovery programs on federal lands for wolves, grizzly bears, and California condors. Swift foxes once were common to the prairie; in 1805, Lewis and Clark chronicled an encounter with the canids in their journals. Yet during the next 150 years, fox populations decreased dramatically because of overtrapping and modifications of their habitat caused by agriculture. Thirty years ago, it was declared extinct on the Blackfeet reservation and across Montana.

Debating Threatened Status

Today, a few isolated subpopulations of swift fox exist in states such as Kansas, Colorado, and Wyoming. Yet many citizens have pushed to have the fox declared a threatened species under the Endangered Species Act. But here, near the confluence of the Two Medicine and Marias Rivers, the focus has shifted from intervention to reintroduction. Since the mid-1990s, conservationists have suggested that the reservation might be an ideal place to bring back the swift fox. But it wasn't until August, when Newbreast encouraged his tribe to move go ahead with restoring the foxes, that things began moving forward. With the help of conservation groups, 30 swift foxes were returned to the reservation. This summer, another shipment of foxes bred in captivity is planned, and a third will follow in 2000. So far, so good. Mortality for introduced species often runs high in the first year, Johnson says, but only two foxes perished over the winter.

A Good Choice for Release

"It is the best release site we've ever had available to us, " says Clio Smeeton of the Cochrane Ecological Institute, which spearheaded swift-fox recovery in Canada. "One reason is the abundance of prey and the fact that there is a huge amount of escape terrain such as badger holes to offer protection from other predators. Another is the fact that the swift fox poses no threat to farmers; it doesn't eat cattle or sheep. But perhaps the most important ingredient, Smeeton adds, is the attitude of the Blackfeet people; they want these foxes back. Swift foxes dwell in the Blackfeet's oldest oral traditions and remain icons of an ancient warrior society. Actually, no fewer than a half dozen plains tribes refer to the fox in their storytelling.

Also Gives a Boost to Tribal Members

Indeed, in a place where the views of nature are rich, but poverty is rampant, the fox is emerging as a symbol of hope. "The swift fox is part of >our heritage, " says Newbreast. I don't want to sound overdramatic, but we share a common destiny. [Blackfeet tribal members] have adopted these animals as their own. When they see swift fox, they feel special inside, like they've been handpicked to help bring a species back." For Robert Ferris of Defenders of Wildlife, the Blackfeet project as a vital middle ground. "We have become so accustomed to polarization that when you just go out and make a reintroduction happen, it seems remarkable," he says. "In fact, it is remarkable."

TV Changes Forever Alaskan Tribe
.c The Associated Press By TODD LEWAN 5/22/99

ARCTIC VILLAGE, Alaska (AP) -- This was a gift from the Creator, like the caribou or the snow: A plane from Fairbanks was bringing the Gwich'in tribe a strange black box with aluminum antlers -- a thing, they'd heard, that never stopped talking.

So the Indians stood in the snow and waited until the twin-propellered bird dropped out of the sky and met the Earth. A white man hopped out, threw open a cargo door and pulled out the thing everybody was so curious to see.

TV.

More precisely, a 12-inch, black-and-white Zenith. A milestone in 1,000 generations of Gwich'in history, a leap out of the then and into the now.

The proud owner was Gideon James, a member of the tribal Council. He rushed his talking box straight home, where a throng had squeezed into his log cabin. James fiddled with the rabbit ears, and within moments they saw Johnny Carson, grainy but live from some place called Burbank, Calif., uttering jokes no Gwich'in quite grasped.

Still, no one left until Channel 9, the only station available 150 miles north of the Arctic Circle, went off the air at 2 a.m. Four hours later, when the box started talking again, the crowd returned. They watched and watched and watched. Twenty straight hours. Six straight days.

It was January 1980. Two-and-one-half years before a satellite dish went up behind the Council office; three years before Gwich'in tots began zapping Atari space invaders with joysticks; four years before the first VCR brought Rambo to the northernmost Indian village in North America.

Today, all 67 cabins in Arctic Village, population 96, have at least one television. Gwich'in young are so drawn by television that they have no time to learn ancient hunting methods, their parents' language, their oral history. They dream of becoming professional football players, though none has ever touched a pigskin.

Most of the elders, meanwhile, are learning what has been missing in their lives: Denim wear. Farberware. Tupperware. Four-wheelers. Touch-tone phones. Can openers. Canned soup. Canned peaches. Cabinets (for all the cans).

Their shortcomings, they are coming to understand, stem from not being like the families they see on the screen. They get plenty of advice on how to correct these inadequacies, of course.

Their boxes never stop talking.

Before the coming of the tube, the Gwich'in lived much the way their ancestors did for hundreds of years.

They were a people toughened by immense sweeps of tundra where the cold chased even the hares underground. They ate raw caribou, roast caribou, caribou stew, caribou-hoof broth. They wore caribou skins, slept in caribou-hide tents, paddled caribou-skin kayaks. They fashioned utensils from caribou antlers, weapons from caribou bone. They told caribou tales, prayed caribou prayers, sang caribou songs, danced caribou dances.

They were the Gwich'in, the People of the Caribou.

Over time, they were touched by the coming difference: Sugar, metal fishhooks, tobacco, alcohol, gunpowder. None of these things, however, altered their subsistence outlook, their fundamental character.

Theirs was a way honest to Earth Mother, the family, the spirits. True, life expectancy was low, diet was limited, and the best hope against disease was often hope itself. But the Gwich'in had independence.

Even when every other aboriginal group in Alaska agreed in 1971 to give up their land claims in return for $1 billion and a tenth of state territory, the Gwich'in wanted no part of the deal.

The 7,000-member tribe held on to 1.8 million acres of ancestral land and, for a time, kept outsiders away from their highwayless, fenceless, wireless universe.

Until Zenith came to town.

"I couldn't sleep I was so excited by that TV,'' says Albert Gilbert, a 43-year-old Gwich'in who, at 25, got his first hit of late-night comedy the day the future dropped out of the sky.

"I wanted to watch it and watch it and watch it,'' he said. "I woke up at 6 a.m. to watch it more. I did this for two weeks. When I went out in the country to hunt, all I could hear was the TV in my head.''

As the boxes multiplied, mothers stopped making ice cream from caribou-bone powder and river slush, in deference to Ben & Jerry's. They stopped preparing "tundra tea'' with alpine spruce needles in favor of Folger's instant coffee.

Kids began chomping Bazooka bubble gum rather than dried caribou meat. They no longer waited for the elders to finish eating before starting a meal. Old legends told around campfires could not hold them when Bart Simpson was talking.

Soon, beaded moccasins were outmoded by Nike sneakers, the sled dog by the gas-powered Ski-Doo Alpine, the wood stove by the microwave oven.

The well-to-do came to be envied for their home entertainment centers. The average Gwich'in -- living on unemployment, welfare, Social Security, food stamps, Alaska dividend checks or handouts from the Bureau of Indian Affairs -- made do with 20-inch Sonys.

Several elders cautioned against the excesses of the tube, but listening to the old ones had fallen out of vogue.

"For these natives, like anyone else, television is a cultural nerve gas,'' explains Dr. Michael Krauss, director of the Alaska Native Language Center at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks. "It's odorless, painless and tasteless. And deadly.''

Sarah James, a Gwich'in artist who runs a committee that works to preserve tribal customs, believes the tube has done what no invader could: kill the Gwich'in's primal soul.

"The TV teaches greed. It shows our people a world that is not ours,'' James says. "It makes us wish we were something else.''

Cora Christian trudges up the dirt trail and huffs to a stop. Beneath caribou antlers nailed to the front of a cottonwood-log cabin hangs a hand-painted sign:

GiLBERT'S GROCERY. ARCTiC ViLLAGE, AK.

"I hope they're not out of M & M's,'' she says. "My granddaughter will scream if she doesn't get some today.''

She pushes the door open and sees Julie Hollandsworth, a short woman who lives down the road. Hollandsworth is holding a few bags of microwave popcorn. She says her husband just put up their very own satellite dish. He paid $635 for it, plus another $215 for shipping on the Frontier Airlines DC-3 that makes the 200-mile flight from Fairbanks once a month.

"It gets 320 channels,'' Hollandsworth says. "I counted them all.''

Christian is impressed. Her five daughters would love it, she says. Her family is finding it a little tiresome watching just the one channel, KUAC-TV, hour after hour.

Christian scans Gilbert's shelves: Canned wax beans, Sun-Maid Raisins, condensed milk, Pringle's, cartoned fruit juice, paper towels, microwave popcorn, Tide detergent, buttermilk pancake mix, yeast, rock salt, Mr. Goodbars, Dr. Pepper, Marlboro cigarettes and, there they are, M & M's. That's all there is, except for the two walls of videotapes.

Christian picks up the M & M's and hikes a quarter-mile across a purple-and-green quilt of reindeer moss, lichens and sedge tussocks studded with baby spruce. The big trees are gone. Cut for firewood.

"Woodcutting is the only way to make money here in winter,'' she says. "The young guys charge you $30 for three days' worth of logs. Another $10 to split it, the cheats.''

She slides a key into the back door of her two-bedroom frame house. "We started locking it ever since someone stole our chain saw a month ago,'' she says, remembering the time before TV when Gwich'in didn't need locks.

Inside is a room crammed with convenience: propane range, can opener, two televisions.

"Is all this modern stuff good for me?'' The 43-year-old woman chews her lip, then recalls how her uncle, Albert James, a few months earlier charged her $40 to haul two couches home from the airstrip, a half-mile away.

"I didn't have the money right away,'' she says, "so my uncle let them sit out there for a month, until my federal relief check came. My own uncle.''

Now, she says, "nobody will give you a stick of wood for free anymore. All anybody wants is money.''

Davy Peter, a 9-year-old Gwich'in in an oversized Chicago Bulls jacket, is excited. After school, he raced over to Gilbert's and nabbed three "Teen-age Mutant Ninja Turtles'' videos, and he can't wait to watch them.

Rocky John, a pudgy 12-year-old with a wad of Snickers bar in his cheek, and Walter Nollner, 9, are going along. Rocky wants to be a wide receiver for the San Francisco 49ers when he grows up. Davy wants to be Michael Jordan. Walter, a hunter. Check that. Scottie Pippen.

None has ever played a down or shot a free throw. They can't stop to explain. "We gotta watch all of these movies by tomorrow morning,'' Davy says.

James John watches the youths scatter like waterfowl. "Kids,'' he mutters. "All they do now is play board games, watch TV, act like they've done it all.''

John is 37. He's got that wiry look, like a scarecrow made of cables. He wears camouflage pants, black army boots. A white eagle's feather dangles from his mane -- for "spiritual power,'' he says.

One of 14 children, he considers himself trapped between two generations, those of his forefathers and the "MTV wimps.''

In the summer, John cuts wood and repairs TV sets. When he accumulates $350, he orders ammunition, then disappears into the Brooks Range for weeks at a time. He hunts and traps caribou, moose, lynx, wolf, fox, beaver.

His cabin, where he waits out the winter, is not quite four steps by six. The television talks from its stand. A 55-gallon-drum wood stove and a bunk fill much of the room.

"Before the TV, we were a tough people,'' he says. "Not anymore. Now people only go hunting if they have a four-wheeler.''

His friend, Dennis Erick, 39, laughs. "These modern kids go out there and kill anything they see,'' he says. "They don't know which is a bull and which is a cow. They don't care.''

Once, Gwich'in tracked caribou hundreds of miles into the Canadian Yukon. Today, Erick says, they follow the herds via satellite.

There are two signs tacked to a bulletin board outside the Gwich'in Council office. One reads: PRIDE. COURAGE. TRADITION.

The other: FOLLOW THE SEASONAL MOVEMENTS OF THE PORCUPINE CARIBOU HERD.

Below these words hang eight satellite photos of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. "10 cow caribou have been fitted with satellite collars,'' the announcement continues. "Locations for these caribou are received each week ... Good hunting.''

When the caribou come within a few miles of town, the Gwich'in fire up their four-wheelers or snowmobiles and rumble off for a shootfest.

"The satellite pictures help save gas,'' says Gideon James, the council member. He owns a Dodge pickup. "Gas costs $5 a gallon up here.''

Terry Sikvayugak and his live-in girlfriend, Marie John, own a piece of Arctic Village's future.

They have what's called a "HUD House'' -- a 20-by-24-foot, plywood A-frame built with 14,000 federal dollars. It's the only painted dwelling in a 200-mile radius. "I told the government guys I'd never seen a colored house in Arctic Village,'' Sikvayugak says. "So they painted mine lemon.''

The couple added a few touches: A meat drying rack made from the shoulder blade of a moose, a caribou-skin rug. And, of course, three TV sets. Two VCRs. A Sony PlayStation.

"The boy, Jerrald, he needed a second TV in his room so he could watch his shows while playing compact-disc video games,'' Sikvayugak says.

In the den is a third television, a 28-inch Samsung TV/Video combo. "It's never turned off,'' Marie says, without looking up from a movie about a huge ship that sinks in the Atlantic after hitting an iceberg.

They have a lot of time for the tube. They are the conscribed components of a distant system known as the dole. Marie, 37, receives $821 each month from the BIA's Temporary Assistance Program, plus $300 in food stamps. Each year, the Arctic Slope Native Corp. sends an $1,800 "subsistence'' check to Sikvayugak, a 31-year-old Inuit. And this year, the state sent all three family members $1,540.88 "dividend'' checks -- the annual payout each Alaskan receives from the state's $26 billion oil-royalty savings account.

Sikvayugak collects firewood, hauls buckets of water from the Chandalar River. Then it's time for "Wheel of Fortune.''

"It's so easy to sit around and watch movies every day,'' he says. "Now Jerrald comes home, eats, plays Nintendo a couple hours with his friends, watches TV, a video movie, then goes to bed.''

Is Gwich'in spoken in the home? "It would be nice,'' Marie interjects. "But Jerrald wants to learn about the Western culture. He wants to learn to fly a plane, play football. We want him to know English well. That way, he will be more successful than we are.''

Arctic Village has a landing strip. It has a tower filled with chlorinated river water. It has a bulldozer. It has a 1906 Russian Orthodox steeple. It has a school with 58 students, 13 Garfield posters, nine Apple computers, one bilingual instructor. It has a youth center with a pool table. It has a 25-foot satellite dish.

It has no garbage plant. No plans for one.

So when a GMC pickup lost its muffler a year ago and the owner couldn't afford to order a new part from Fairbanks, the truck was abandoned on the side of Mountain Road. It sinks a little each day. The Gwich'in figure the marsh may swallow it all in three years.

Outside the WASHETERIA, a laundry center, 12 Maytags sit in the mud. They look new. But they need new gaskets, new lint trays, maybe a loose wire tightened. Kids play on them.

The rutted roads are a garbage picker's dream. A bicycle with a flat tire here. A chain saw with a severed starter cord there.

Either no one knows how to fix these things or no one has the tools or patience to do it. There are no televisions lying about, though.

"They get fixed,'' says Leonard John, 21, who then gives a Mountain Dew can a drop kick into a mountain creek.

Occasionally, the village council will haul refuse out past Lilly's Lake and dump it in a ditch straddling the airstrip. When planes lift off, plastic bags, foam cups, soiled toilet paper take flight in their wake.

A window of Isaac Ross' cabin frames a postcard view of the typical Arctic Village yard: empty Chef Boyardee tins, bales of fiberglass insulation, Hills Bros. coffee cans, shotgun casings, plastic Pepsi bottles, oil drums, dry-rotted tires, grease guns, a gas range, Pennzoil jugs, propane tanks, plastic forks and spoons, two discarded chain saws, a sink, two stripped bicycle frames and two snow machines in different stages of dismantlement.

"All of that junk comes from the city, from down below,'' Ross grouses. Down below is Fort Yukon, 150 miles south, the outpost where he was born 45 years ago. He lights a Marlboro, adjusts the red headband that confines his bear-black hair.

"The white man should come here and collect all this junk and take it away,'' he says. "Hey. Wait a minute.''

Ross clicks up the volume on his 13-inch Symphonic TV and stares bug-eyed at a 30-second ad for the new Honda all-terrain vehicle, which retails for about $6,500.

"Not a bad price,'' he says. "Who knows? Maybe next year.''

Piling up
By JOE ROBERTSON c. Tulsa World 5/23/99

Rules barring sale of Indian chat create hardship

QUAPAW -- It was a bad deal from the start. Mining companies got away with leaving giant waste piles scattered like blisters over the face of Indian land on the premise that the tribes could sell the rocky piles to sand and gravel companies. Now even that part of the deal is off.

Meanwhile, during the past year and a half that the government has blocked Indian owners from selling the waste known as "chat," non-Indian owners keep on selling theirs, even raising the price per ton.

The U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs is working on solutions, but as things stand, tribal leaders say, the uneven regulations on the sale of chat amount to the latest in a long line of hardships on several Indian tribes in northeastern Ottawa County.

"They've created an injustice for Indian chat owners," said Earl Hatley, environmental director for the Quapaw Tribe.

As an environmentalist, Hatley is in a peculiar position. The reasons the BIA fenced off the chat piles are clear to him.

"They've created an injustice for Indian chat owners." Earl Hatley Environmental director for the Quapaw Tribe

The U.S. government and the tribes know very well that the chat piles are swollen with health hazards in the residue of heavy metals -- most notably lead, cadmium and zinc.

Health tests in the 1990s showed that many children growing up in the mining area had high blood lead levels. Lead can stunt the mental and physical growth of children, so adults in these communities are left to the uncomfortable speculation of how much their generation and those before suf fered from the unregulated use of chat.

The BIA, which controls the leases on Indian land, was right to try and stop people from carting chat away for unsafe uses, Hatley said.

But he says state or federal regulators should put similar moratori ums on the sale of non-Indian land chat and pay a fair value to chat owners who purchased or inherited this toxic legacy of the lead mining industry.

All the while, he said, the government should continue court actions to recover more damages from the mining companies, most of which disappeared long ago.

"They should do what is right and clean the land."

The BIA is working on a plan, said Jeffery Loman, an environmental specialist for the BIA. There may still be a chance for the Indian tribes to garner some of the economic rewards that have been so scarce in coming.

More than 1,000 mining companies came through between 1900 and 1970. Most of the mining area fell on Indian lands, and the companies made deals with the BIA to pay out royalties to land owners.

Whatever wealth came from the royalties dried up long ago, and the BIA allowed the mining companies to save a lot of money by letting them leave some 60 million tons of chat in mountainous piles as much as 200 feet high on Indian lands.

Mining companies left close to 100 million tons of chat throughout the mining area that covers large portions of northeastern Ottawa County plus portions of Kansas and Missouri.

"The land was destroyed with the promise of great wealth," Hatley said. "But what we got were several generations growing up with exposure to lead and cadmium."

The government is not ready to bury the chat just yet, Loman said. Burying such vast amounts of waste, Loman estimates, would cost some $5 billion.

On the other hand, many environmentalists believe there are still some safe uses for chat. There appear to be no health risks, he said, if chat is mixed in with a durable mixture such as road asphalt where there is no risk of loose particles or dust.

Questions still need to be asked and many deals must be made, but Loman has a working plan that he hopes can be put into place within one to two years.

It involves selling the chat piles up front to sand and gravel companies under highly regulated conditions.

The companies would agree to sell the chat for approved uses only and participate in a documentation process so government regulators could monitor the sales.

The companies would have to build berms around the chat piles to keep in potentially hazardous runoff of rainwater and allow regular inspections.

The owners of the chat piles would be paid up front, rather than load-by-load as in the past, meaning they could reap the economic benefits more quickly.

Prices vary, but the chat goes for around $1 per ton.

The government could look into subsidizing the costs of transporting chat by trucking companies and expand the market for the material. Currently, Loman said, the costs of trucking chat make it unprofitable for companies to transport it more than 250 miles.

Communities in the mining area also could strike deals to get some of the chat put into asphalt to pave many of their own gravel roads, alleys and shoulders. Chat used in loose gravel throughout Ottawa County leftover from the past continues to be a health hazard.

"All this could make up for the money lost during the moratorium and then some," Loman said.

The quicker the chat can be sold and converted to asphalt or concrete the better, Loman warned. As long as it continues to sit as giant, exposed piles, the chat looms as a serious health hazard.

Stocking plan at Red Lake offers hope for future
Doug Smith c. Star Tribune May 23, 1999

WASKISH, MINN. - Local residents Al Otto and Ken Johnson opened five-gallon plastic jugs and dumped a mixture of greenish water and small, black specks over the side of their boat and into the dark waters of Red Lake.

Stocking Red Lake They also were pouring hope. Each of the 20 or so jugs contained about 50,000 just-hatched, tiny walleye fry, the size of big mosquitoes. The million or so wiggling fish were instantly swallowed by the sprawling lake -- the biggest inland water in Minnesota. A couple of hours earlier, Herb Mountain, Clayton Cook and Gary Sargent, all Red Lake Band of Chippewa members, helped dump another 2 million fry elsewhere in the lake. For nine days earlier this month, boatload after boatload of fry were deposited throughout the expansive lake -- 41 million fish in all -- as part of an unprecedented and historic attempt to restore the walleye population in Red Lake.

"We hope this will jump-start the recovery," said Gary Barnard, Department of Natural Resources area fisheries manager who is overseeing the stocking effort. The lake -- actually two interconnected basins, Upper Red Lake and Lower Red Lake -- is a virtual walleye factory that was ravaged by years of overfishing. It once produced more than 1 million pounds of walleye a year, filling commercial nets for the Chippewa and stringers for sport anglers. Red Lake is unique because of its size and the joint ownership. That also complicates the restoration effort. The lake is 289,000 acres -- more than twice as large as Lake Mille Lacs. The Chippewa own and control 241,000 acres, including the entire lower lake; the state has 48,000 acres. The walleye restoration effort is the largest ever undertaken in Minnesota. Those working on the project, including many citizen volunteers, are optimistic. If there is bitterness over the cause of the walleye collapse, it is well hidden. To a person, those volunteering their time and boats to help stock fry said they don't want to blame anyone for the walleye decline.

"Everyone has moved off blame because people know there's enough blame to go around," said Henry Drewes, Department of Natural Resources area fisheries supervisor in nearby Bemidji. "It's a historic effort shrouded with good will." Their goal, however, is daunting -- to restore the fishery so Chippewa and non-Chippewa can again harvest walleye aplenty from Red Lake. The restoration is a joint effort by the state DNR, local residents, the Chippewa band and the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA). That itself is amazing, considering there was virtually no cooperation before in managing the lake.

"We have to work together," said volunteer Kelly Petrowske of Waskish. "We have a common goal." Said Dave Conner, administrative officer for the tribal natural resources department: "Working together certainly improves our chances for recovery." Not only are people optimistic the lake can be restored as a premier walleye fishery, but, perhaps more importantly, they also are convinced that once that happens, the groups can co-manage the fishery and ensure that it remains healthy. A new era The beginning of a new era for Red Lake started last month when the Red Lake Band, the BIA and the DNR signed a 10-year agreement spelling out how the lake will be restored and managed. The plan, while ambitious, isn't complicated: The Chippewa agreed to stop all harvest, both commercial and subsistence netting. The band actually stopped commercially harvesting walleye in 1997 after the walleye population plummeted. The state agreed to end sport fishing for walleyes on its waters. The walleye limit had been trimmed to two last year. This year it is zero. The lake will be restocked with walleye fry to supplement the natural reproduction. A committee that includes the band, BIA, DNR, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and the University of Minnesota will oversee and guide the restoration and manage future harvests. Enforcement for both segments of the lake will be beefed up to ensure that no harvest occurs now, and that abuses don't occur in the future when harvest resumes. The BIA is contributing about $30,000 annually toward the Chippewa enforcement, and the DNR intends more patrols by conservation officers. The annual stocking costs about $68,000. The BIA is paying $40,000, and the DNR is contributing $28,000. Some have questioned whether the DNR should help restore a lake that is owned, for the most part, by Chippewa. Red Lake is a closed reservation, meaning its waters are not open to non-band members. Drewes dismisses that concern. "It's a phenomenal walleye lake, and we'll have gained 48,000 acres of excellent walleye fishing," he said. "There's the potential to harvest 100,000 to 150,000 pounds of walleye annually on the state waters, which is similar to [the harvest on] Lake Winnibigoshish," Drewes said. Restoring even the state's portion of Red Lake "is like adding a Winnie or a Cass Lake to the state," Drewes said. "We can't create lakes like that." A crucial point of the plan calls for careful control of the walleye harvest on the entire lake, much as is being done between Chippewa and the DNR at Lake Mille Lacs, where harvest quotas are used. Stocking begins The DNR found that Lake Vermilion walleyes were as close genetically to Red Lake walleye as they could get, so this spring workers harvested eggs and sperm there and brought the fertilized eggs to a Bemidji hatchery. About 85 percent of the eggs hatched -- compared to about 3 percent in the wild. Each day as eggs hatched, the tiny fry swam off to a holding tank, where they were netted and put in 5-gallon jugs with a green-colored solution of oxytetracycline. The common antibiotic is absorbed into the bones of the fish, allowing biologists to determine later the percentage of fry that survived and assess whether the stocking succeeded. Because it will take years before the marked fry become edible-size, and because the chemical collects in the bones, not the flesh, officials say the fish later will be safe to eat. Some 41 million fry went into the lake, about half in state waters and half in Chippewa waters. It's the first of up to five stockings. And of those 41 million fry, officials estimate that only 5 to 10 percent will survive to fall. A much smaller percentage will make it to adulthood and possible harvest. Natural reproduction from existing walleyes still is essential.

"We're hoping that the stocking helps, but my feeling is the best chance for recovery lies with the moratorium on walleye harvest," said Conner of the band's natural resource department. "We're estimating that this will double the number of fry in the lake, which is significant," Barnard said. Ten-year recovery? The DNR and residents are optimistic the stocking will help. The big, shallow lake has ideal walleye habitat. "I think the variable is time -- how long will it take, not whether we can do it," said Drewes. "Will it take six years, eight years or 10 years?" One thing is certain: There is no quick fix. Officials estimate it will be eight to 10 years before a walleye harvest can resume. That's because it takes time to grow fish. The surviving fry will be 13 inches long in three years, but they won't spawn until they reach about five years of age. "We don't want to harvest any of those fish until they reproduce," Drewes said. There are many variables, including bad weather, that affect fry survival. And the lake now is out of balance, with an explosion of perch and crappies, both of which will eat small walleyes. Barnard and the DNR will have a pretty good clue by late summer whether this spring's stocking worked. The fry then will be 6 to 7 inches long, and the DNR will use nets to determine what percentage of fry survived. If the survival is poor, the lake could be stocked again next spring. If it is good, the stocking will be delayed a year. "We don't want competition between year classes," Barnard said. A maximum of five stockings will be attempted. "If we do it five times and don't establish a good year class, we'll quit," Barnard said. Then the lake will have to recover on its own. "That would take a lot longer," he said. The future is now For now, though, anglers fishing state waters in Red Lake will have to be content catching northerns, perch and crappies. The tourism industry has hit rock-bottom. Jerry and Joani Barthel moved from the Twin Cities five years ago and bought Rogers' Campground and RV Park, a picturesque site straddling Shotley Creek on the sandy shores of Upper Red Lake. It used to be primarily a fishing camp. "The serious fishermen quit coming," Jerry Barthel said. "Last opener we almost cried. We had two people here. And one was the former owner. He said in the late '80s there'd be 160 people here -- you couldn't get a spot." So the Barthels have focused on attracting a different clientele: families with children. And it appears to be working. "This year we have more reservations than ever before," he said. Still, Barthel is optimistic that restoring Red Lake's walleyes will help restore the local tourism industry. "It will work, but it will take time," he said. "What happened here is proof this is a limited resource." Added Barthel: "It can't get any worse. There's only one way to go now, and that's up."

First Americans Mortgage Corp. to Launch Loan Website On June 3
c. BUSINESS WIRE May 26, 1999

LENEXA, KAN. --Dustan R. Shepherd, President of First Americans Mortgage Corporation (FAMC), a subsidiary of AmeriResource Technologies, Inc. (OTC BB:ARET) announced today that the company will launch their loan origination Website ( www.nativeamericanlender.com) on June 3.

The web page will be the first such Internet site devoted to supplying capital to Native American consumers and tribal governments.

Through a loan origination web page FAMC will originate home loans from any location in the United States to their corporate office in Kansas. Potential customers can log on and prequalify for various loans products, make loan application, learn more about the corporation and find links to other Indian Country web sites.

"The company has spent the last 75 days not only developing the site but also expanding and reorganizing our internal loan delivery system to handle the projected influx of new loans" explains Mr. Shepherd. The site will focus on Native American mortgage programs but will also be available to non-Native American borrowers."

"FAMC will immediately begin expanding the Website by dedicating a portion of the site to information on potential projects for tribal governments. The company's recent alliance with George K. Baum & Company will be the first feature and will focus on mortgage revenue bonds and other public financing strategies."

Mr. Shepherd continued "Over the last four years the staff has continually identified the need in Indian Country for revolving and installment loan products with fair and equitable terms. During the recent restructuring we decided that the Internet will allow FAMC to take on these types of products and deliver them in a cost effective and professional manner. Thus, the company has entered into discussion with funding sources to supply FAMC with these products to be place on the Website in the near future."

The release may contain forward-looking statements that involve risk and uncertainties, including without limitations, continued acceptance of the company's products and services, increased levels of competition, new products and technological changes, The Company's dependency on financing third party supplies and intellectual property rights, and other risks detailed from time-to-time in the company's federal filings, annual reports, offering memorandums or prospectus.

American Indian Tribes Preparing Tobacco Suits, Republic Says
c. Bloomberg May 28, 1999

Phoenix, Arizona, -- American Indian tribes across the country are following the lead of several U.S. states by preparing lawsuits seeking as much as $1 billion in damages from tobacco companies for smoking-related health problems, the Arizona Republic reported. Thirty-five tribes have joined a former Navajo Nation president's lawsuit, which will be filed in late June or early July in either state or tribal courts, said Albert Hale, the former president, adding that tobacco companies have specifically targeted Indians and other minority groups with marketing and advertising, the newspaper reported. American Indian communities did not receive any of the $206 billion settlement between 46 states and the major tobacco companies, the newspaper said.

The U.S. Supreme Court rejected an appeal in mid-May to revive a class-action lawsuit filed on behalf of more than a million Pennsylvania cigarette smokers, ruling that the smokers' claims were too varied to be part of the same suit.

Narragansett Indians drilling test wells -- for spring water
The tribe has signed a ``letter of intent'' with California-based Indian Wells Water Co. to develop a bottling plant on tribal land.
By ELIZABETH ABBOTT c. Providence Journal 6/1/99

CHARLESTOWN -- As the Narragansett Indian tribe wages a public battle to build a casino in West Warwick, it is quietly pursuing another avenue to economic self-sufficiency: bottled water.

Working with Indian Wells Water Co., a California-based company, the tribe is conducting exploratory drilling on its 1,800 acres in Charlestown with the hope of finding a spring that could support a bottling plant.

Success may be imminent.

Officials from Indian Wells told the San Francisco Chronicle two months ago that they found a suitable spring in Charlestown and plan to build a $7- to $9-million bottling plant there within six months. The plant could produce 10 million cases of water annually and generate $70 to $80 million in revenue a year, the company's chief executive officer, James M. Stevens, said.

Stevens is well regarded in the $4.3-billion bottled-water industry. He was formerly the chief operating officer of Coca-Cola and chief executive officer of Suntory Water Group, the second-largest bottled-water company in the United States.

But last week, the future of the project sounded less certain. A spokesman for Indian Wells said the company was working to finalize an agreement with the Narragansetts, but he refused to confirm or deny Stevens's statement. Stevens could not be reached.

"I do believe there is water on the property,'' said the spokesman, who insisted on anonymity.

But the company hasn't decided on a particular site and testing continues, he said.

The Narragansetts' chief sachem, Matthew Thomas, described the venture as being in its ``infancy.'' In addition to ensuring the water's quality, the tribe must approve any agreement with Indian Wells before the project can go forward, he said.

The Narragansetts have signed a "letter of intent'' with Indian Wells to develop a bottling plant on tribal land; Indian Wells has similar agreements with four other North American tribes. But the deal is contingent on finding adequate water and reaching a final agreement with the tribe.

"We have quite a ways to go,'' Thomas said.

Asked whether he supports the idea of building a bottling plant on the tribe's settlement area, a largely undeveloped tract in the heart of Charlestown, Thomas said it wasn't his decision to make.

"Let's just say I'm in favor of economic development,'' Thomas said.

The Narragansetts could benefit significantly from a bottling plant under the terms of the letter of intent. Not only does Indian Wells promise to finance construction, but also the tribe would receive all profits from the water's sale.

Indian Wells would make money from distribution and marketing agreements, the company spokesman said.

Indian Wells has promised the same deal to the four other tribes with whom it has agreements. They are the Catawba of South Carolina, the Poarch Creek of Alabama, the Squaxin Island of Washington and the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe from Minnesota.

The casino-rich Mille Lacs have invested $10 million in Indian Wells.

"We are doing this because we are committed to doing more than just bringing another bottled water to the competitive marketplace,'' Stevens and cofounder Brian N. McCarthy wrote in a mission statement published on the Internet last year.

"Our vision is to be the best bottled-water company in the industry while enhancing the economic condition and self-determination of Native Americans.''

But Indian Wells is in its infancy, a fact that could influence the outcome of the Narragansett Indian project. Founded in 1997 by McCarthy, a retired Navy rear admiral, the company has yet to build a bottling plant on Indian land. A year ago, the company started selling bottled water with the Indian Wells label in Arizona and the San Franciso Bay area, but that water comes from a non-Indian source in Sedona, Ariz.

The industry Indian Wells is attempting to enter has become very competitive in recent years.

"You're seeing very big companies get aggressive in bottled water, which makes it tougher for new companies,'' said Gary Hemphill of Beverage Marketing Corp., a research and consulting firm for the beverage industry.

Coke and Pepsi are among the giants who have entered the field.

Sales of bottled water are expected to grow considerably in the next few years, especially in the category Indian Wells falls into, called "retail premium.'' This category refers to the small, portable plastic bottles of water sold in convenience stores and supermarkets.

Sales in this category grew 30 percent last year and are expected to grow another 25 to 30 percent this year, Hemphill said. By the year 2005 bottled water is expected to be second only to carbonated beverages as the biggest-selling category of beverage, he said.

But Indian Wells has a concept that could help to set it apart from the pack, Hemphill said. This concept was described in the company's mission statement as follows:

"Indian Wells recognizes that although tribes may not have the financial resources necessary to develop a large business enterprise, they do possess valuable resources: their people, their culture, their land and their water. These resources are highly desirable to the consumer and allow Indian Wells to state that Indian Wells bottled water is a "Native American Product.'' This sets Indian Wells apart from all other bottled waters on the grocery store shelf and provides the consumer with a unique incentive to purchase.''

Indian Wells has its headquarters in Sonoma, Calif. It currently employs about 10 people full time. It is not clear what financial resources the company has apart from the $10-million investment from the Mille Lacs.

The company spokesman conceded Indian Wells is attempting to crack a tough industry, but he said a lot of people are working very hard to make the company's vision a reality.

Held in Trust, and in Limbo
Native Americans' Assets Mired in a Record-Keeping Maze
By William Claiborne c. Washington Post June 2, 1999

HOLDENVILLE, Okla.-The way Ripley Berryhill figures it, the U.S. government owes his family millions of dollars in royalties from oil pumped from beneath 160 acres of land it allotted to his grandmother in 1903. But he wonders if he will live long enough to see any of it.

Berryhill, 59, a Muskogee Creek Indian who lives a hardscrabble existence on about $8,000 a year in disability checks, stood before a wellhead on Nettie Tiger Berryhill's allotment recently and tried to do the math: 122,478 barrels extracted from the time she died in 1943 until 1970, when his search of oil-pumping records reached a dead end. With Oklahoma sweet crude selling for $16 a barrel now and some of the most profitable years coming after 1970, the yield obviously was going to be enormous. "We never could figure out what it'd be worth all added up, but some lawyers we talked to in Tulsa said, 'You're talking $12 million to $15 million easily,' " Berryhill said. "That's a lot of money for someone in my situation." But Berryhill and his grandmother's 27 other living heirs have a problem. Or, more precisely, they have several problems.

First, the Bureau of Indian Affairs never completed a probate of Nettie Berryhill's will, as it was required to do as the trustee of allotted Indian lands, Berryhill said. Then, inexplicably, the BIA sold the land and the oil rights that went with it, without any of the proceeds going to family members, Berryhill said. But the biggest problem of all, Berryhill discovered, is that most of the documents concerning the oil leases cannot be found. "It's like going around in circles," said Berryhill, who has visited document archives in Tulsa, Oklahoma City and even Fort Worth in search of records to prove his case. "They send you from one office to another and you end up right where you started."

Berryhill's is one of thousands of American Indian claims against the federal government for mismanaging over the last century assets held in trust by the government that conceivably could result in compensatory payments reaching into the tens of billions of dollars. The Interior Department, of which the BIA is a part, says it is trying to straighten out 350,000 unreconciled trust accounts held by individual Indians and 1,500 more tribal accounts that go back to 1887, when the government began breaking up reservations and allotting small parcels of 40 to 160 acres to individual tribal members.

The allotments were part of the government's assimilation policy, which at the time was intended to dismantle Indian reservations and disperse tribes across the country. The trust accounts often were created to hold assets for minors or to collect and hold royalties from the sale of petroleum, natural gas, timber and other natural resources extracted from the transferred land, with income supposedly being passed on to descendants of the original beneficiaries. But BIA officials admit that many records covering the 55 million acres of land it manages in trust--as well as those for the 350,000 landowners, 100,000 active leases and 2 million individual owner interests--have been lost over the last century in a maze of antiquated record-keeping. Despite periodic proddings from tribal leaders, federal courts and Congress, government accountants and outside analysts have been unable to reconcile the records, or in many cases even ascertain if royalty checks were issued or cashed.

The BIA acknowledges that there are people like Nettie Berryhill who died 50 or more years ago and whose wills, containing potentially huge trust assets, have not been probated. Keith Harper, an attorney with the Washington-based Native American Rights Fund, called the BIA's handling of the accounts a "complete abrogation of their fiduciary responsibility." Kevin Gover, assistant interior secretary and head of the BIA, said he could not comment on individual trust cases. "We can't respond to horror stories. If we release information about how much land someone owns, we can be sued," Gover said. In fact, Gover and Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt already are the targets of a class action lawsuit filed on behalf of more than 300,000 Native Americans who say they have been deprived of billions of dollars in trust funds. The case is scheduled to go to trial this summer.

In February, Babbitt and Gover were cited for contempt of court by U.S. District Judge Royce C. Lamberth for showing a "flagrant disregard" of the judge's order to produce trust account documents for the trial. Lawyers for the two officials said that the documents could not be produced because they could not be found. In 1994, after spending $21 million for an outside audit of two decades' worth of accounts, the BIA acknowledged that it was unable to adequately document $2.4 billion in tribal trust fund transactions. While it has not been ascertained that the money is actually missing, documents cannot be found to show where much of it came from and where--or even if--it was paid, officials readily admit. BIA officials say that in many cases the money has not gone anywhere because checks never even left the Treasury Department. There was no place to send them because the heirs of the original trusts could not be found. Babbitt, in a meeting with reporters last week in Washington, said: "There are no huge sums of money missing. It is a lack of documentation, a lack of evidence." In response to questions, however, Babbitt acknowledged that there was no way of knowing how much money was missing and how much was actually paid out until the process of reconciling trust accounts is completed.

Officials say that documents are scattered in disarray in dozens of government warehouses around the country without any cross-indexing and sometimes without source identification. In the case of the main BIA document center in Albuquerque, long-forgotten trust records were contaminated with rat feces containing a dangerous virus and therefore were considered inaccessible by bureau employees. Audits have found that more than 45,000 accounts are for individuals whose whereabouts are unknown; 21,000 are for people who have died; 128,000 accounts have no Social Security or tax identification numbers; and $21.7 million is being held ostensibly for minors who have long since reached adulthood. Many of the trust fund accounts involved "fractionalized" landholdings that over many years have been divided among so many heirs that the value from leases and other sources of income often is less than $1 per person. Gover said he receives as little as 7 cents a year on a mineral interest that once belonged to his great-grandfather, a Pawnee Indian, even though it costs the Interior Department $35 to handle such an account. Gover said the BIA had "recorded proof" of only $15 million to $25 million in errors, and that it was unfair of bureau critics to make Indian trust holders think that "their ship is coming in" with billions of dollars in compensation. "From what we've seen so far, there is not $1 billion in mistakes," Gover said. However, attorney Harper called Gover's $15 million to $25 million estimate "ridiculous" and, noting that $350 million goes through the trust system each year, said, "We believe it will be multi-billions of dollars in aggregate corrections."

Dennis Gingold, another lawyer for the Indians, said a preliminary estimate by the Price Waterhouse accounting firm, which was hired by the Native American Rights Fund to study the government trust records, shows that the Indians are owed at least $10 billion--more than the Interior Department's entire annual budget. Eloise Cobell, a Blackfoot Indian and the lead plaintiff in the class action lawsuit against the department, said money that was supposed to transform Indians from welfare dependents into landowners and pay for college educations has been mismanaged, diverted, lost and--in some cases--stolen or never collected. She said powerful corporations in Oklahoma drill for oil and timber companies in the Pacific Northwest harvest trees under what is essentially an honor system. Moreover, rich potato land in Idaho is leased at below market rates and ranchers in Montana graze their cattle on Indian trust lands for free, she said. "They are totally wrong when they say this [reconciling trusts] won't affect the lifestyles of poor people," Cobell said. "I'm seeing people die poor every day when they actually have a hell of a lot more money that should be in their accounts."

In an effort to sort out the fund, the Interior Department is spending $60 million on a new computer system that is scheduled to make its debut next month at a BIA regional office in Billings, Mont. The system is supposed to not only reconcile the challenged trust accounts, but also give Indians a way to check their funds at any time and link the accounts with the department's land records. However, the General Accounting Office, in a report issued last month, said off-the-shelf accounting software the BIA purchased to cut down on planning time could be inadequate for the task. The GAO said the bureau went ahead with the project without thoroughly analyzing its needs and without ensuring that it will be able to handle trust data linked to different systems. Such debate makes little impression on Indians such as Rosalie Taylor Grothaus, a 61-year-old Seminole who last week visited her grandmother's original 160-acre allotment near Bowlegs, about 20 miles east of here, and watched oil being pumped out of a well there. A sign on the well identifies it as "Molleah Taylor No. 4"--Molleah Taylor was Grothaus's grandmother--but no one in the family has received any royalties from the well in years, Grothaus said.

BIA record-keeping criticism renewed
c. Tulsa World 6/8/99

At Anadarko, records were . . . stuffed in unmarked boxes strewn among truck tires, the special master's report said.

WASHINGTON (AP) -- A court- appointed investigator found that the government still handles American Indian trust records carelessly more than three months after two Cabinet officials were held in contempt of court over them.

In a report issued Monday, the official said trust documents are stored in "patently substandard conditions" at several Bureau of Indian Affairs offices he inspected recently. At Anadarko, Okla., records were kept in wooden sheds. Files were spilled loosely around and stuffed in unmarked boxes strewn among truck tires, the report said.

Alan Balaran was appointed a special master in a lawsuit against the government after U.S. District Judge Royce Lamberth found Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt and Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin in contempt for delaying the turnover of trust records. The judge said he had "never seen more egregious misconduct" by the government.

The lawsuit alleges the government has been mishandling the accounts for decades. They include 300,000 accounts held by individual Indians, subjects of the lawsuit, and an additional 1,600 tribal accounts worth $2.5 billion. The money includes lease revenue, royalties and court settlements.

Balaran recommended the judge order safeguarding of the documents. "The absence of an order affirmatively mandating the preservation of Indian trust records risks the possibility that the deficiencies . . . will continue unchecked and that the opportunity for a meaningful accounting will be forever lost," Balaran wrote.

Bureau of Indian Affairs officials say trust records are kept in 108 offices, and it takes time to ensure that all have proper storage. Balaran visited a dozen offices in April and said most were "models of efficiency."

"It's a big job," said BIA spokesman Rex Hackler. "I think we're doing very well in most places. There's always a way to do better." The Interior Department released a memorandum dated June 2 that ordered all its agencies to ensure preservation of Indian fund records they might hold.

Records have been lost or ruined over the years, and ownership of reservation property has been divided so often through inheritances that only a few cents a year passes through many of the accounts, officials say.

Lawsuit Targets Indian Trust Funds
.c The Associated Press By PHILIP BRASHER 6/10/99

WASHINGTON (AP) - Accused of mismanaging $500 million in Indian trust funds, the government acknowledged in court Thursday it can't provide some account holders, many of them poor, with basic information about their money.

A class-action lawsuit is seeking to force the government to fix the accounting system and reconcile the 300,000 accounts. Lawyers for the account holders claim taxpayers could eventually be liable for billions of dollars in underpayments to the Indians.

Minutes before the trial started, government lawyers filed documents acknowledging that the Interior Department inadequately controls receipts and disbursement and doesn't provide regular reports and reconciliations of all accounts.

"It is not surprising that a reformed trust system cannot spring up overnight,'' Justice Department lawyer Tom Clark told the federal judge who is hearing the case. "It can't be done by a stroke of a pen.''

No one disputes that the government has mishandled the money for generations.

The money primarily comes from lease revenue and royalties that the Interior Department holds in trust for individual Indians. Complex land ownership has made it difficult to track the accounts, thousands of which are worth only a few dollars, and many records have been lost or destroyed over the years, officials say.

Clinton administration officials contend they are working overtime to repair the system, but account holders say the efforts have been inadequate and halfhearted despite proddings from Congress.

"Over 150 years, there hasn't been an audit or reconciliation of Indian money,'' said Elouise Cobell, a Blackfeet woman who is one of the five lead plaintiffs. "The only way we're going to hold their feet to the fire is through a court.''

The case is being heard by U.S. District Judge Royce Lamberth, who earlier held Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt and Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin in contempt for their departments' delay in producing records for the lead plaintiffs.

The lawsuit is being tried in two phases. The first will focus on fixing the accounting system. The second will deal with reconciling the accounts.

Interior also is responsible for $2.5 billion in tribal accounts. Tribes have been negotiating with the administration on a separate settlement of those funds.

"We're not here to rehash the problems of the past. ... We're here to tell you how we're going to solve them,'' Justice Department lawyer Tom Clark told the judge.

Interior's Bureau of Indian Affairs is developing a new computer system for handling the accounts that will be tested for the first time later this month in Montana.

The General Accounting Office, the investigative arm of Congress, has questioned whether the BIA's new system will work, and Senate Republicans also have been highly critical of Interior's effort.

The trial was expected to take several weeks.

Ariz. Wildfire Scorches 5,000 Acres
.c The Associated Press 6/12/99

A wildfire charred 3,500 to 5,000 acres north of Whiteriver, Ariz., on Friday, burning through one subdivision and threatening others. There were scattered evacuations on the Fort Apache Indian Reservation.

U.S. Forest Service officials said the fire was fanned by high winds and had destroyed some buildings in the Diamond Creek subdivision. Spokesman Bob Dyson said an exact count wasn't immediately available.

Several subdivisions and the Alchesay Fish Hatchery were evacuated. Power was out in the community 130 miles east of Phoenix.

Earlier, the fire spewed heavy black smoke 20,000 feet into the air.

Elderly members of the Whiteriver-Apache tribe suffered breathing problems, and several people were taken to shelter at a high school gymnasium, said Jim Anderson of the Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest.

Meanwhile, a wildlife ignited by lightning on June 3 had burned 600 acres of forest near the north rim of the Grand Canyon by Friday afternoon.

Officials said the fire had spread slowly to a mile east of the Mount Logan Wilderness Area but would be allowed to burn itself out.

FEMA: President orders disaster aid for South Dakota tornado victims
c. M2 Communications June 11, 1999
President Orders Disaster Aid For South Dakota Tornado Victims

Washington, -- Federal disaster aid was made available today for tornado victims in southwestern South Dakota under a major disaster declaration issued for the state by President Clinton, according to the head of the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA).

FEMA Director James Lee Witt said the President's action requested by the state authorizes the use of federal funds to help meet the recovery needs of families and communities in Shannon County and the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation ravaged by Tornadoes, deadly tornadoes and flooding starting June 4. Witt designated the areas eligible for federal aid immediately after the declaration.

The assistance, to be coordinated by FEMA, can include grants to help pay for temporary housing, minor home repairs and other serious disaster-related expenses. Low-interest loans from the U.S. Small Business Administration also will be available to cover residential and business losses not fully compensated by insurance.

Additionally, Witt said federal funding will be provided for the state and affected local governments to pay 75 percent of the eligible costs for debris removal, emergency services related to the disaster, and repairing or replacing damaged public facilities. The declaration also makes cost-shared funding available to the state for approved projects that reduce future disaster risks.

Witt indicated that additional jurisdictions may be designated for aid later if requested by the state and warranted by the results of further damage assessments. He named Peter J. Bakersky, of FEMA's regional office in Denver, to serve as the federal coordinating officer for the recovery.

Bakersky said affected residents and business owners in the designated areas can begin the disaster application process by calling 1-800-462-9029, or 1-800-462-7585 (TTY) for the hearing and speech impaired. The toll-free telephone numbers will be available starting Thursday, June 10, from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. seven days a week until further notice.

Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) Office of Emergency Information & Public Affairs -- Washington, DC -- Information Available 24 hours a day on the World Wide Web: http://www.fema.gov

Wildfire Destroys 17 Homes in Ariz.
.c The Associated Press 6/13/99

WHITERIVER, Ariz. (AP) - Crews on Sunday contained a large wildfire that destroyed 17 homes and forced 300 people to evacuate their homes on the Fort Apache Indian Reservation.

About 800 air and ground crews Sunday morning formed a containment line around the fire that began Friday and quickly spread to more than 4,000 acres, said U.S. Forest Service spokesman Joe Spehar.

"Most of the crews are doing mop up,'' Spehar said after the fire was declared contained early Sunday night.

The wind-driven fire, north of Whiteriver and about 130 miles northeast of Phoenix, is believed to be human-caused and an investigation is pending, Spehar said.

The fire had burned nearly seven square miles of ponderosa pine trees and heavy brush, consuming 4,163 acres before it stabilized. At one point, the flames stretched more than 400 feet into the air, Spehar said.

Nobody was injured, he said.

Gone But Not Forgotten: Bring Back North American Elephants
by Melanie Lenart c. UA News Services 6/8/99

TUCSON, ARIZ. -- Many an imagination has been enchanted by visions of wild America reconstructed by writers and painters of old.

A few imaginative people, such as University of Arizona geosciences Professor Emeritus Paul S. Martin, go beyond this by encouraging a restocking of modern-day plains with animals of the past. Martin envisions reserves with buffalo roaming, deer and antelope playing, elephants browsing.

Elephants browsing?

This might not sound like the range that greeted Lewis and Clark. But it does represent the wilderness of 13,000 years ago that confronted the earliest settlers into North America, Martin points out. And he would like to see pockets of modern America that reflect the pachyderm presence once again.

Martin will be talking about his vision on June 26 during the 25th anniversary celebration of the discovery of Mammoth Site in Hot Springs, S.D. The site hosts a museum where the100,000 visitors each year can see the continuing excavation as well as some results of the effort -- including some complete skeletons of the roughly 50 mammoths preserved when they fell into a slippery sinkhole 26,000 years ago.

"I want to do honor to my country by appreciating its true nature," Martin said. "We've been misled into thinking this is the home of the deer and the buffalo and the moose. That's true in historical time but in evolutionary time this land is the home of elephants, camels, horses and ground sloths."

In a paper called "Bring Back the Elephants," published in the spring issue of Wild Earth, Martin and co-author David A. Burney note that the disappearance of North American elephants about 13,000 years ago during the late Pleistocene occurred almost yesterday in the geological time frame.

"As a result of the late Pleistocene extinctions we live in a continent of ghosts, their prehistoric presence hinted at by sweet-tasting bean pods of mesquite, honey locusts and monkey ear. Such fruits are the bait evolved to attract native animals that served a seed dispersers," they wrote in Wild Earth. "African and Asian elephants are the only members of the order of Proboscidea that were not lost in the megafaunal crisis of the late Pleistocene."

Seven species of Proboscidea, including wooly mammoths, dwarf mammoths and mastadons, suddenly died off during this crisis. After a million years or more of successful existence, they faded into evolutionary history in perhaps a few hundred years, evidence indicates. What's more, the rapid cycle of extinctions occurred just as the Clovis people were settling North America on a southward journey that began at the Bering Straight, a now-flooded peninsula that connected Alaska and Siberia.

Martin considers the timing more than coincidence. He is one of the main proponents of the theory that humans were the catalysts for the sudden wave of extinctions of large North American mammals. Although there is no smoking gun to prove the connection, there are spear tips found in fossil mammoths. For instance, a mammoth skeleton unearthed in Naco, Ariz., contained eight spear points identified as having Clovis origin.

"This one got away. There were only these beautiful Clovis points that indicated it had been hunted and speared but not butchered and cooked," Martin explained. Part of the skeleton is now on display in the Arizona State Museum located on the UA campus in Tucson.

Thanks to cave paintings in Europe by ancient artists, scientists know what mammoths looked like, with long fur making them appear superficially different than the elephants that have so far survived into modern times.

Their behavior, too, probably differed only superficially from that of modern elephants, which are considered "super keystone species" by some conservation biologists because of their ability to transform the environment. Elephants dismantle trees, turning forest into the savannah that can support a variety of large grazing mammals and their predators.

Martin suspects that the disappearance of the North American elephants, actively hunted by our ancestors, could have altered the environment enough to precipitate the extinction of other range animals. Along with the late Pleistocene elephants, dozens of other large mammal species disappeared from North America at that time, including ground sloths, horses, the saber-tooth tiger and the dire wolf.

Gray wolves -- remnants who survived the Pleistocene but were recently driven to near extinction in the United States by ranchers and farmers -- are being reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park, Wyo. Scientists abroad are repopulating an area of Siberia dubbed Pleistocene Park with horses, musk ox and bison. Reintroducing elephants into North America could be the next step in efforts to restore the wilderness of old.

"If we want the 'super keystone species,' second only to our own in their capability for altering habitats and faunas, we should start with the restoration of living proboscideans -- with African and Asian elephants," Martin states.

U.S. tribal colleges see enrollment skyrocketing
c. Tulsa World 6/14/99

LINCOLN, Neb. (AP) -- American Indian and non-Indian students are flooding 31 U.S. tribal colleges and universities on remote, impoverished reservations in a dozen Western and Midwestern states.

The tribal college movement began in the 1970s. American Indian enrollments nearly tripled between 1989 and 1999, from 10,000 to 26,500, the Lincoln Journal Star reported.

"My enrollment is escalating, skyrocketing," Verna Fowler, president of the Menominee Community College in Menominee, Wis., told the Journal Star.

"Six years ago we began with 49 students. This past semester we served very close to 497 students. I've been peddling as fast as I can to keep my head above water."

Blending American Indian culture with traditional mainstream academic fare, tribal colleges provide crucial support systems to people who might not otherwise go to school.

"The movement has to do with self-determination," said Janine Pease Pretty on Top, president of the Little Big Horn College in Crow Agency, Mont. "It's quite a big step to declare your own education system."

American Indians traditionally have been relegated to an education system that sought to assimilate them into white society, a system in which many Indians failed.

As a result, American Indians saw the need for their own schools. In 1968, the Navajo Nation chartered the first tribal college. In the ensuing decade, 20 more tribal colleges were chartered, and enrollment numbers have risen sharply since.

As tribal college reputations grow, so do the types of students they attract. Traditionally, the schools have been attended by 30- something mothers. That trend is changing. Today, students fresh from high school are choosing tribal colleges, and a growing number are white.

More than 30 percent of students at the Salish Kootenai College on Montana's Flathead Reservation are white. The school's president, Joe McDonald, attributes the large white enrollment to quality academic and vocational pro grams, geographic location and a goal to become a regional college.

Tribal colleges also are becoming rooted as community centers. They help, for example, community members cope with welfare reform laws by promoting job training and educational opportunities.

Despite impressive academic gains over the last three decades, tribal colleges still have a number of obstacles to overcome. They receive half the core funding mainstream community colleges receive, leaving scant funds for teacher salaries, dining facilities, dormitories, libraries or technological development.

The Navajo Nation, the country's largest tribe, was the first to establish education on its own terms. The tribe chartered Dine College in Tsaile, Ariz., in 1968. Today, its 1,800 full-time students make it the nation's largest tribal college.

With 80 students, Little Priest Community College in Winnebago, Neb., is among the smallest. Founded three years ago, the college was among the quickest to receive accreditation, which was awarded in 1998.

Despite their success, tribal schools often disappear from mainstream society's radar screen.

"We're so unknown," said Lionel Bordeaux, president of Sinte Gleska University on South Dakota's Rosebud Sioux Reservation. "When they do hear about us, they think we're a fly-by-night operation. We've been here 30 years. The gains, though substantial, are still baby steps."

Monument to the Trail of Tears
By AP Wire Service 6/14/99

OKLAHOMA CITY (AP) -- R. Poteet Victory hopes with European linen and his talents as an artist to paint a masterpiece that will be a monument to the Trail of Tears.

"The whole point of this monument, this painting, is that the Trail of Tears, except for the Civil War, was probably the most important event in American history that helped shape what America was to become," Victory said.

Thousands of American Indians died along the long trek from the southeastern U.S. in the 1830s to what became Oklahoma. The federal government forced Cherokee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Seminole and Creek Indians from their homes to settle in Indian Territory.

Victory plans to unveil his 50- by 25-foot artwork at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., late next year. He wants the piece to tour for two years across the United States and maybe in Germany and Israel before it is brought to Oklahoma.

The painting will be on loan to the Cherokee tribe for 50 years.

Victory, an Idabel native of Cherokee and Choctaw descent, said the painting will depict Indian birth, death and rebirth. He said his painting is motivated by a concern that there isn't a lot of knowledge about the trail.

More than 40 tribes were involved in the federal government's removal and western relocation of American Indians.

Oklahoma Arts Council Executive Director Betty Price said the painting, which is in its early stages, is a magnificent project.

"This is very fresh and new," she said.

Victory said it will be laced with symbolism. Much of it will be biblical.

Price believes the painting will draw people from all over the world to the state.

Indians To Sue Tobacco Industry
.c The Associated Press By SUSAN MONTOYA 6/15/99

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. (AP) - Thirty-four American Indian tribes are to file a lawsuit tomorrow seeking billions of dollars in damages from the tobacco industry for the cost of treating smoking-related illnesses.

The tribes, mostly from the West and Midwest, are accusing the tobacco industry of deliberately targeting Indians, who have the highest smoking rates for adults among any ethnic group in the United States.

The tribes also want an end to advertisements that target Indian teen-agers.

Tribal attorneys say damages could reach into the billions of dollars.

The lawsuit comes seven months after the tobacco companies agreed to pay 46 states more than $200 billion in the first 25 years to recover Medicaid costs for treating smoking-related illnesses. The tribes were not included in the settlement.

"They got no money. They got no benefits of the settlement. They had no one representing them at the table,'' said Turner Branch, an Albuquerque attorney.

Turner and a team of attorneys and representatives from the 34 tribes were to announce the filing Wednesday at a news conference in Albuquerque.

The case is against more than a dozen tobacco companies, including Philip Morris, RJ Reynolds and the Santa Fe Natural Tobacco Co. The latter company distributes American Spirit cigarettes, which feature a logo of an Indian in full feathered headdress smoking a peace pipe.

John Phillips, an attorney who represents Philip Morris Co., said several tribes already have sued tobacco companies. Some of the cases have been dropped and a few are still tangled in jurisdictional issues, he said.

Such lawsuits are riddled with problems, Phillips said.

"The tribes have received their health funding, the vast majority of the funding, through the Indian Health Services, which is an arm of the federal government,'' Phillips said. "Those are federal monies, not tribal monies. Only the federal government, not the tribes, have the right to sue for those funds.''

Albert Hale, a former Navajo Nation president and counsel to the Albuquerque law firm filing the lawsuit, disagrees. The federal government must allocate money for Indian health services as part of its treaties with the tribes, Hale said.

"The moment it is appropriated, it is Indian money,'' he said. "It loses that federal money label.''

According to the 1998 Surgeon General's report, about 39 percent of all American Indians smoke. That compares to 26.5 percent of blacks, 25.9 percent of Caucasians, 18.9 percent of Hispanics and 15.3 percent of Asian Americans.

"It's a problem because we have never been educated about the dangers of smoking,'' said Red Eagle Rael, governor of the Picuris Pueblo in northern New Mexico.

Conn. Eyes Indian Tribe Alliance
.c The Associated Press By BRIGITTE GREENBERG 6/15/99

With the cost of providing medicines to the poor rising dramatically, the state of Connecticut is considering an unusual alliance with a wealthy Indian tribe which uses its status as a sovereign nation to beat the drug prices of health maintenance organizations and pharmacy chains.

The Mashantucket Pequots, who made a fortune in casino gambling, have a side business in called the Pequot Pharmacy Network, which has provided many Connecticut employers and group insurers with prescription drugs since 1991.

As a federally recognized tribe, the Pequots have access to a federal pricing schedule for pharmaceuticals that is lower than that offered to health maintenance organizations and local and chain drug stores.

"When we met with the Pequots, they described their purchasing power and ... their ability to attain the lowest possible price,'' said Michael Starkowski, deputy commissioner of the state Department of Social Services. "They described to us a pricing schedule that would be 40 to 50 percent less than what we would be paying otherwise.''

The state Legislature last week mandated that the department reduce its pharmaceutical expenditures by $21 million. Department officials anticipate a cost of $226 million this year for Medicaid pharmaceuticals. Negotiations between the state and the Pequots could begin in the next few weeks, Starkowski said.

The decision would affect about 85,000 elderly and disabled Medicaid patients in the state.

The Pequots Pharmaceutical Network currently dispenses more than 1,700 prescriptions per day with the assistance of a robot that handles about 225 of the most commonly prescribed drugs. The network ships out by mail-order about 1,500 prescriptions per day, while about 225 are picked up by tribal members or tribal employees at a pharmacy on the tribe's reservation in Ledyard.

Under the proposal, Medicaid patients would still go to a local pharmacy to pick up their prescriptions, but the pharmacists would only get a handling fee because the medicine is actually just shipped to the store from the Pequot Network.

State Attorney General Richard Blumenthal said Tuesday he is reviewing whether the agreement would be legal.

"There are a slew of legal questions that have to be answered,'' Blumenthal said.

Blumenthal said that what concerns him most is the idea that the tribe's sovereignty could allow it to claim immunity for mistakes or other issues of liability in the sale of the pharmaceuticals.

However, the tribe already has liability insurance and the Department of Social Services would purchase liability insurance separately to answer such questions, Starkowski said.

Mark Grayson, a spokesman for the Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, an industry group in Washington, D.C., said the state should not have to circumvent manufacturers, pharmacies and HMOs in order to save money and that the deal would give consumers fewer options.

"The state is trying to find some easy out,'' Grayson said. "It seems to us that it would be better for the state, rather than to try to find a loophole in the law, to work within the existing statutes.''

Senate Action On Nuclear Waste Threatens Minnesota Tribe; Tribe Says LeavingNuclear Waste at Power Plants is Another Broken Promise
c. PRNewswire June 17, 1999

PRAIRIE ISLAND, Minn., -- The Prairie Island Tribal Council today denounced a move by the U.S. Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee that would keep nuclear waste stored less than 600 yards from the tribe's reservation for at least 10 more years.

"The Senate proposal is a direct violation of the federal government's responsibility to protect the welfare and resources of Indian nations and Indian people," said Audrey Kohnen, Tribal Council President for the Prairie Island Indian Community. "Our health and safety concerns about living next to the nuclear power plant and nuclear waste storage site have never been addressed. This proposal could mean we will be forced to continuing living next to nuclear waste well into the next century."

The Senate committee abandoned efforts to create a temporary national nuclear waste storage site in Nevada and passed a compromise proposal to have the government take title to the toxic waste, but leave it at power plants until a permanent storage facility is ready at Nevada's Yucca Mountain. Federal law required the government to take title to the nation's nuclear waste by January 1998.

"Once again, the Prairie Island Indian Community must pay the price for the government's broken promises and inability to deal with the nuclear waste issue," said Kohnen. "If the government and the power companies don't have an answer for how to deal with nuclear waste, maybe they should stop producing the waste."

In 1994, the Minnesota Legislature, despite opposition from the Tribal Council, authorized Northern States Power Company (NSP) to store up to 17 casks of nuclear waste next to the company's Prairie Island nuclear power plant. The power plant is adjacent to the reservation. NSP currently has nine nuclear waste casks stored outside the power plant.

"We are very concerned that Prairie Island will become a permanent storage site if this proposal is allowed to move forward," said Kohnen. "We must not allow that to happen. We will continue our fight to get the nuclear waste removed from Prairie Island as soon as possible."

The Prairie Island Indian Community is located 30 minutes southeast of the Twin Cities along the Mississippi River.

Indian Tribe Builds Drug Business
.c The Associated Press By BRIGITTE GREENBERG 6/18/99

MASHANTUCKET, Conn. (AP) - An Indian tribe that has made a fortune from casino gambling has quietly built a profitable sideline business in mail-order prescription drugs.

As gamblers feed quarters into the slot machines at the Foxwoods Resort Casino, a half-dozen pharmacists in white coats work nearby on tribal land, filling pill bottles bound for patients all over the country.

Under federal regulations, Indian tribes recognized by the government can buy prescription drugs at a deep discount and resell them. As a result, Mashantucket Pequot Indians can undercut HMOs and pharmacy chains.

Started 10 years ago as a small health service for members of the tribe and their employees, the Pequot Pharmaceutical Network today is a $15 million business, handling 250,000 prescriptions annually.

About 2 million people are enrolled in the network, and its customers include General Dynamics, Connecticut College, AAA Connecticut Motor Club and about 40 other Indian tribes around the country.

Even the state of Connecticut, looking to cut its pharmaceutical expenditures for 85,000 elderly and disabled Medicaid patients, is considering becoming a customer.

"When we met with the Pequots, they described their purchasing power,'' said Michael Starkowski, deputy commissioner of the Department of Social Services. ``They described to us a pricing schedule that would be 40 to 50 percent less than what we would be paying otherwise.''

The Pequots refused to disclose profit figures and insisted they are not looking to put independent pharmacies or national chains like Walgreen or Rite Aid out of business.

Yet industry executives are jittery. Mark Grayson, a spokesman for the Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, said his organization fears the government has given the Pequots an unfair advantage.

"We don't believe that the federal supply schedule can be utilized in this way,'' he said.

Shelly Carter, spokeswoman for the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs, said the Pequots' use of the discount is perfectly legal.

Here's why the Indians have the edge: Drug manufacturers, in an effort to capture market share, created different price schedules for different customers. Hospitals typically get a lower price than drug store chains. As the biggest consumer of pharmaceuticals in the world, the federal government gets the lowest price of all. Indian tribes are entitled to the same discount the government gets.

Other Indian tribes also obtain cheap prescription drugs for their reservation health centers. But the Pequots are the first to set up a health care business that extends beyond their reservation.

The Pequots get the government discount only for prescription drugs that go to people on federal assistance, such as Medicaid. For all other patients, the Pequots pay the HMO rate for drugs, which is still cheaper than what drug store chains pay.

By law, the Pequots are not allowed to charge the patients on federal assistance a markup on the drugs. They make a profit by imposing a handling fee of about $9 per prescription. The Pequots' other customers can be charged a markup.

About 70 percent of the Pequots' business is in mail-order prescriptions that are shipped directly from the reservation to patients, most of whom have chronic conditions, like diabetes.

The tribe also has a pharmacy on the reservation that serves about 600 tribal members and about 13,000 employees. And it has alliances with 35,000 pharmacies across the country, enabling patients to go to drug stores to pick up some prescriptions.

In addition, the tribe performs claims processing for large employers and has customer service representatives and pharmacists on call nearly 24 hours a day to answer questions and check patient histories for allergies or drug interactions.

"We're focused mainly on discrete populations that are homebound, the elderly poor, for example,'' said Matt Uustal, president of the network. "We think we give them a competitive price.''

Steven J. Valiquette, an analyst with Warburg Dillon Read in New York, said mail-order is one of the fastest-growing market segments. He said small pharmacies are more likely to suffer than large chains.

"The whole prescription drug pie is growing 5 to 6 percent annually, and the independents are the ones who are losing,'' he said. "Mail-order is just lower overhead overall.''

The tribe's main source of revenue remains its casino. Though the tribe will not divulge profits, it reports its slot machine take to the state, which keeps 25 percent. With slot revenue topping $600 million in 1998, the state's share exceeded $150 million.

Although pharmaceuticals may seem like an odd side business, the tribe has a long history in health care, said Marjorie Colebut, a tribal member and former nurse who leads the network's board of directors.

She noted that many in the tribe are descendants of shamans, or medicine people, and that the tribe's current medicine woman, named Laughing Woman, holds a revered position on the Council of Elders.

"Health care is something that we normally do. It is a part of our culture,'' Ms. Colebut said. "It just comes naturally for us. "

Return of tribal lands urged
By MICHAEL SMITH c. Tulsa World 6/19/99

MUSKOGEE -- Government officials need to "get off their duffs" and renew their efforts to restore lands along the Arkansas River to the control of Cherokee, Choctaw and Chickasaw Indians, an attorney representing tribal members said Friday.

"We're just going to have to keep demanding that they exercise their responsibility" to return the lands to the tribes, Bob Rabon said with regard to a recently dismissed U.S. Justice Department civil suit.

The suit, filed in December 1997, claimed that the tribes own the riverbed, banks and other lands along a 96-mile stretch between Muskogee at the confluence of the Grand, Verdigris and Arkansas rivers to the Arkansas state border at Fort Smith.

Among the defendants were Oklahoma Natural Gas Co., Mobil Oil Co., Sun Oil Co. and Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Co.

U.S. District Judge Michael Burrage dismissed the suit, in part, because the Justice Department let the completed title and abstract work "get stale," said Rabon, an attorney for the Choctaw and Chickasaw tribes.

"The problem is, it was three years before they actually filed the suit" after the title work was done, he said.

Now it has been five years and "courts don't like to adjudicate something and find out later there are additional claims," Rabon said. "He (Burrage) told us to go back and get the (title) information current."

Rabon said the title information will be updated, but he questions whether the federal government will act any faster this time around.

He said he will soon send a letter to leaders of the tribes, advising them to tell Justice Department officials to "get off their duffs and get this litigation filed."

Justice Department spokeswoman Christine Romano said the agency is "probably a few months away" from deciding to refile suit against the more than 100 defendants.

"We're not doing anything right now," Romano said. "However, it's something we're looking at."

Treaties in the 1830s granted title to lands within the riverbed to the tribes. In 1970, the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed those treaties.

But the land boundaries have never been determined, and the suit seeks to address that point.

Burrage also noted in his April 15 dismissal of the case that federal officials failed to notify defendants of the suit within a required period of time, said Rex Earl Starr, general counsel of the Cherokee Nation.

He said the Cherokees continue to "demand that the Department of Justice must fulfill its trust responsibility and refile the lawsuit."

Tribes take issue with Red River pact
c. AP 6/19/99

LAWTON (AP) -- The battle over the border between Oklahoma and Texas may not be over.

Members of the Kiowa, Comanche and Apache Land Use Committee are upset with the agreement the two states reached to decide the Red River boundary and may go to Washington, D.C., to fight the plan.

"A lot of our people own allotments along the river," committee member Emily Saupitty said. Members of the committee met with officials of the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs to discuss the boundary compact.

"They are going to lose land. They made the vegetation line the boundary, and no matter how that line changes, we will lose land," Saupitty said.

Oklahoma Gov. Frank Keating and Texas Gov. George W. Bush have signed similar measures approving the boundary. The law will go to the U.S. Congress.

The two states have battled over the boundary for years. The Red River is the official dividing line for 440 miles. Commissions from the two states were appointed to decide what constitutes the south bank. The legislation identifies it as the vegetation line on the south bank.

Precise knowledge of the border is important because of property taxes, mineral rights, criminal jurisdiction, and licenses for hunting and fishing.

Oklahoma is ceding to Texas 10,835 acres from Sen. Robert Kerr's district in western Oklahoma. Oklahoma is gaining some acreage on the eastern edge of the border.

Kerr, D-Altus, plans to lobby against the boundary law. But he fears the flood of litigation that he thinks will follow the law, not the loss of tribal lands.

He said laws protect the Indians against a change of ownership.

The new law specifies that the compact does not change or affect the sovereign rights of federally recognized Indian tribes on either side of the boundary line the compact established.

"We are sovereign nations," Saupitty said. "They are going to have to listen to us."

She said the tribes cannot trust Oklahoma or Texas legislators.

"We'll lose land to Texas," she said. "And we've lost enough land already."

Keweenaw Bay Indian Community, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service; Fish Isolation Facility Lake Trout Production
c. PRNewswire June 18, 1999

FT. SNELLING, Minn., -- The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (Service) and Keweenaw Bay Indian Community (Community) invite the public to attend a fish transfer and ceremony celebrating the success of a two year Agreement for the Community to operate a fish health isolation facility which plays a key role in efforts to restore lake trout in the Great Lakes Region.

Those attending the ceremony, 11 a.m. June 22, will have an opportunity to observe Community and National Fish Hatchery staffs load approximately 6,000 lake trout for delivery to Iron River National Fish Hatchery, Wis., and Pendills Creek National Fish Hatchery, Mich.

John Christian, Assistant Regional Director for Fisheries, said, "The lake trout and brook trout restoration effort in the Great Lakes will continue successfully thanks to cooperative efforts of the Keweenaw Bay Indian Community. Fish hatcheries play an important role in achieving mutual benefits for interjurisdictional fishery resources and lake trout restoration efforts. Midwestern tribes have responded to the challenges of resource management in their unique role as users and managers of more than 900,000 acres of reservation inland lakes, treaty ceded territories and the Great Lakes. Their contributions are vital toward restoring these fish species and are greatly appreciated."

Dale Bast, Hatchery Manager, Iron River National Fish Hatchery, said, "This agreement fosters the continued integration of fish health and fish genetics into the Service's captive broodstock program. We need disease-free broodstocks that represent the genetics of wild fish. The Keweenaw Bay Indian Fish Hatchery first initiated a two-year cooperative program in September 1995 and renewed it in 1997. Under the 1997 agreement, the Community provided fish isolation facilities for wild lake trout eggs from Klondike Reef (Michigan), Traverse Island (Michigan) and Apostle Islands (Wisconsin). During the past two years the Community has successfully reared lake trout through the required disease clearance period which included 3 separate fish health inspections."

According to Bast, "The project was once again completed by the community with excellent results. The three strains of lake trout yearlings that were being held in isolation were given the very best of care and, now that a pathogen-free disease history has been established, these fish will be transferred from the Keeweenaw Bay Community Hatchery to the Iron River and Pendills Creek National Fish Hatcheries," Bast said. "There they can be safely used for further egg production and the subsequent fingerlings will then be used to meet restoration stocking efforts throughout the Great Lakes basin."

The cooperative agreement also includes the production of 100,000 lake trout yearlings at the Iron River National Fish Hatchery and 7,000 brook trout from Genoa National Fish Hatchery (Wisconsin), all supporting the fish stocking priorities of the Keweenaw Bay Indian Community.

Wayne Swartz, Tribal Chairman, said, "Our agreements with the Service have further enabled us to cooperate in native fisheries restoration in the Great Lakes. The Community is pleased with the results of these agreements and looks forward to working with the Service on other natural resource projects."

Christian noted, "This agreement with the Community is vitally important to meet the demand for new broodstocks until a long-term solution for isolation needs is achieved. Also, it supports the Department of the Interior's trust relationship with tribal government. And, equally important, the agreement will help us keep healthy lake trout in the Great Lakes for all of the people of the region to enjoy."

The Keweenaw Bay Indian Fish Hatchery is located in Michigan's Upper Peninsula on the L'Anse Indian Reservation, about 7 miles northeast of L'Anse, Mich. on Pequaming Road.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is the principal federal agency responsible for conserving, protecting, and enhancing fish and wildlife and their habitats for the continuing benefit of the American people. The Service manages the 93-million-acre National Wildlife Refuge System comprising more than 500 national wildlife refuges, thousands of small wetlands, and other special management areas. It also operates 66 national fish hatcheries, 64 fish and wildlife management offices, and 78 ecological services field stations.

The agency enforces federal wildlife laws, administers the Endangered Species Act, manages migratory bird populations, restores nationally significant fisheries, conserves and restores wildlife habitat such as wetlands, and helps foreign governments with their conservation efforts. It also oversees the Federal Aid program that distributes hundreds of millions of dollars in excise taxes on fishing and hunting equipment to state wildlife agencies.

SOURCE U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service

Navajo woman surgeon aims to improve U.S. medicine
By Emily Kaiser c. Reuters 6/21/99

CHICAGO - The first woman Navajo surgeon once encountered a man whose intestine was pierced by a porcupine quill that he insisted was put there by an enemy's curse and a woman who was convinced that lightning had caused her cancer.

Dr. Lori Arviso Alvord has also seen a mysterious outbreak of a deadly flu-like epidemic that an Indian medicine man said was caused by too much rain. And she has learned that Navajo traditions can be better than Western practices for treating such unusual cases as well as more common illnesses.

Alvord, who grew up on a Navajo reservation near Gallup, New Mexico, said Western medicine often ignores a key tenet of Navajo beliefs -- the idea that balance is the key to health. Just as too much rain can harm crops, too many negative thoughts can cause sickness.

When the mysterious flu-like epidemic swept through the reservation, a local medicine man blamed the outbreak on a surplus of nuts caused by the heavy rain. Experts at the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) were baffled by the epidemic but they dismissed the nut theory at first.

TOO MANY NUTS LEAD TO FLU EPIDEMIC

Then they discovered that the medicine man had in fact found the root of the problem. Excess rain had nourished a bumper crop of nuts that in turn fed a rise in the mouse population. Those mice passed the disease along to humans.

Alvord, a graduate of the prestigious Stanford University medical school, said she learned more about caring for people while practicing surgery at the Indian Health Service in Gallup. Most of that hospital's patients are Navajo and medicine men are encouraged to hold healing ceremonies with songs and spiritual objects.

Alvord said Navajo patients do not respond well to the often brusque and impersonal attitude of many Western-trained doctors. Medicine men understand that and tend to use words instead of hands as the first tool to diagnose their patients.

"To (Navajo patients) it is not acceptable to walk into a room, quickly open someone's shirt and listen to their heart with a stethoscope, or stick something in their mouth or ear,'' she wrote in "The Scalpel and the Silver Bear,'' a book about her life that was released this month.

The title comes from her clan, the bear, which prides itself on its courage and strength. Navajo legend tells of a woman who sought revenge against the people who had killed her husband and took on the form of a bear to give her the strength to defeat her enemy.

Alvord, who wears a bear charm around her neck, said she called on that same power when she was asked to dissect a cadaver in medical school. Navajo custom forbids contact with the dead, which are believed to hold evil spirits. When a person dies, Navajo believe the "good'' part of the person leaves with the spirit and the "evil'' stays with the body.

Alvord said medical schools are partly to blame for producing an emotionally cold medical community. Forcing students to work long hours and subjecting them to hazing by more experienced doctors may harden doctors to the pain and fear of patients, which can make treatment more difficult.

'BEDSIDE MANNER AN AFTERTHOUGHT'

"Emphasis is placed on training doctors to be efficient, cut costs and be timely, making bedside manner an afterthought. But patients who feel taken care of and understood fare better. We doctors, like medicine men, are in the business of healing, and we must not lose sight of it,'' she wrote.

The key is to train doctors to treat patients as if they were family members, she said. Hospitals can also make small changes such as setting aside rooms where family members can spend the night close to ill relatives or adding windows to intensive care units.

"For many, many years ICUs had no windows,'' she told Reuters by telephone. "Patients were in this room where they had no sense of night and day, no concept of what was going on outside, all kinds of crazy lines hooked up to them, all types of medication and no way to be oriented with the world.''

Alvord is now associate dean at Dartmouth Medical School and hopes to train a generation of doctors who understand how to treat patients as human beings rather than cases.

"Anyone who watches 'ER' is aware of the grueling way that residents are trained,'' she said of the popular television series. "We're looking at ways that students can receive a medical education where they don't feel that they're being harmed and changed in the process.''

At Dartmouth, Alvord has started a native healers lecture series where medicine men speak with students and a "talking circle'' where students can openly discuss the tough issues they face such as dealing with sickness and death.

"I hope (the next generation of doctors) make it a kinder, gentler system,'' Alvord said. "I hope they make it somewhere where patients are not afraid to go to the hospital and where they know that people who they encounter will really, truly care for them and take care of them.''

Healing power

By LAURIE WINSLOW c. Tulsa World 6/23/99

New Indian health-care center dedicated

Overcast skies could not dampen the spirits or enthusiasm of the crowd that gathered Tuesday to dedicate the new Indian Health Care Resource Center at Sixth Street and Peoria Avenue.

Listening to the thump of drums, guests gathered under a yellow- striped tent in Centennial Park, across the street from the new health center.

"I'm not the dreamer. I'm just a hard worker. I am so overcome," said Carmelita Skeeter, executive director of the Indian Health Care Resource Center of Tulsa, standing before the crowd.

Little more than a year ago, only a vacant lot and weeds occupied the site where the health center now stands.

The Indian Health Care Resource Center, a community-based nonprofit organization, had been leasing a building at 915 S. Cincinnati Ave. for more than 20 years but had outgrown the structure's 12,000 square feet of space.

In April 1995, the Indian Health Care Resource Center purchased the Longfellow Elementary School property at Sixth Street and Peoria Avenue for about $345,000 and had the site cleared.

Today, the new single-story, red- brick health center will provide comprehensive outpatient health care to more than 30,000 American Indians in Tulsa County.

"There's an Indian proverb that says every decision must take into account its effect on the next seven generations. Carmelita may feel it took seven generations to get here today," Mayor Susan Savage said. "But what she and the vision of this board and members of this community and all the partners from whom you have heard today have brought to fruition and have brought to reality for this community are high-quality health services."

Said Savage: "This facility joins a whole host of improvements that will come to this area. It will be a catalyst for the new housing, for the park improvements, for the new revitalization."

All clinic charges at the center are adjusted on a sliding fee scale, based upon income and family size.

Among its services, the Indian Health Care Resource Center offers primary medical care, prenatal care, dentistry, optometry, mammography, diagnostic radiology, immunizations, counseling, health education, disease management and access to the WIC food program.

The center also includes a pharmacy and an on-site medical labo ratory.

The new building features 27,000 square feet and can be expanded to 42,000 square feet. The total cost of the project will exceed $5 million.

Major grants were received from Founders and Associates, Grace and Franklin Bernsen Foundation, H.A. and Mary K. Chapman Charitable Trust, Charles and Lynn Schusterman Family Foundation and the Anne and Henry Zarrow Foundation. The architect was James Childers, and FlintCo served as the construction manager.

To fund the facility, a $3.1 million tax-exempt bond financed by Bank One was made available from the Tulsa Industrial Authority through the Community Reinvestment Act.

At the entry of the new building, spiritual leaders burned cedar and offered prayer for the health center.

"I think it's beautiful. I think it's so much bigger. It's going to add so much more to our services," said Sherri Lone Wolf, touring the facility with her two daughters, ages 8 months and 7 years.

Lone Wolf, a Kiowa Indian, has relied on the Indian Health Care Resource Center for nearly 15 years for dental care, check-ups and other health-care needs.

Bobby and Linda Harjo also were admiring the new building. "It's beautiful. I love it. It's a lot better than the other one," said Bobby Harjo, who recently visited the new site to have a prescription refilled.

"I think they've got more doctors, and it's more one-on-one. They don't seems to take as long to see the patient as they did over there," said Bobby Harjo, who is Sioux.

Connie Hollan, a registered nurse, who is a prenatal case manager at the center, said, "It's brighter. It's roomier. It's more modern. You don't feel like you're in a dungeon. The patients want to come back."

Group fails to block sale of Oz site
c. The Topeka Capital-Journal 6/23/99

KANSAS CITY, Kan. -- An Indian group trying to block the sale of government land in Johnson County for a proposed Land of Oz theme park has lost a round in court.

The United Tribe of Shawnee Indians isn't recognized as a tribe by the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs and thus lacks standing to bring suit as a tribe, U.S. District Judge Thomas Van Bebber ruled Monday. Jimmie Oyler, chief of the tribe, which is based in Johnson County and claims eight members there, promised to appeal the judge's ruling on the tribe's recognition.

The United Tribe of Shawnee Indians claims it owns the 9,065-acre site near DeSoto that is home to the now-closed Sunflower Army Ammunition Plant. The plant has been declared surplus by the federal government and is slated for development by Oz Entertainment Co. as a theme park based on the book "The Wizard of Oz." Backers of the park want the state to buy the land and immediately sell it to the Oz developers.

Oyler's group has said it has no plans for the land but simply wants to preserve it. According to Oyler, a series of 19th century treaties between the tribe and the federal government recognized the tribe and gave it a reservation that included the former Sunflower plant lands. The United Tribe asked in 1997 that the land be transferred to the tribe and held in trust by the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The group then went to court seeking an injunction to bar any action on the land's transfer while the court considered the tribe's claim.

Van Bebber, in refusing to grant the injunction, hinted he wouldn't rule on the merits of the tribe's claim to ownership because his court lacks jurisdiction in the matter. A complete written ruling from the judge is expected perhaps as soon as next week. "This issue is a hot potato, and the judge doesn't want to hold it," Oyler said. The United Tribe of Shawnee Indians once was recognized by the Bureau of Indian Affairs and is seeking to regain its recognition status.

On another issue, Van Bebber ruled that the United Tribe was premature in filing for an injunction under the National Environmental Policy Act because the General Services Administration hadn't issued a final environmental assessment. If the GSA issues a final environmental assessment stating that there would be no significant environmental impact by turning the land over to the theme park developers, the tribe, or Oyler as an individual, could refile the suit. Oyler said several neighbors and environmental groups have indicated they will file suit if a full study of hazardous wastes left there by the Army isn't made. He said he might leave that issue to others.

Indians rest case in federal trust fund trial
Interior admits mismanagement
WILLIAM CLAIBORNE c. WASHINGTON POST 6/23/99

The plaintiffs in a class action lawsuit alleging the federal government has made such a mess of the $2.5 billion Indian trust fund program that the court should take control said they rested their case several weeks earlier than they had planned, because victory is "a slam dunk.''

After hearing testimony from only five of the 30 witnesses they had intended to call, lawyers for the Native American Rights Fund rested their case Wednesday after making some procedural motions. They said there is no need for additional evidence because the government has, in effect, admitted a breach of trust after mismanaging the trust accounts.

"The government's stipulations and what our witnesses have testified (have) already established our case,'' said Keith Harper, attorney for the rights fund. U.S. District Judge Royce Lamberth began hearing testimony last Thursday contending that decades of mismanagement by the Interior Department, the Bureau of Indian Affairs and the Treasury Department has deprived Indians of billions of dollars that had accumulated in individual trust fund accounts created to compensate them for use of their land and to pass along royalties from the sale of oil, natural gas, timber and other natural resources.

There are about 350,000 accounts held by individual Indians and 1,500 tribal accounts amounting to $2.5 billion, with more than $350 million going through the trusts each year. Independent audits have shown Interior has been unable to document $2.4 billion in transactions during a 20-year period, and both sides agree the record-keeping has been a shambles for at least 75 years.

While it has not been ascertained that the money is missing, documents cannot be found to show where much of it came from or where it went. Harper said a major turning point in the trial came last week when Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt agreed to six stipulations, including admissions that Interior does not adequately control receipts and disbursements in all Indian trust accounts, does not provide all account holders with periodic statements of their accounts' performance, does not have written policies and procedures for all trust fund management and accounting functions, and does not provide adequate staffing, supervision and training for all aspects of trust fund management.

American Indian Rally Turns Violent
.c The Associated Press By CARSON WALKER 6/26/99

PINE RIDGE, S.D. (AP) - A demonstration by American Indian activists turned violent Saturday as people ransacked a store and set fires. Two news photographers were roughed up.

The four-hour American Indian Movement rally Saturday started peacefully in Pine Ridge and ended with a two-mile walk to nearby Whiteclay, Neb.

At Whiteclay, a group of people stormed VJ's Market and threw soda pop, cigarettes and other merchandise onto the street. Two fires were also set in the store but were quickly extinguished.

Someone also threw rocks at law officers when they arrived. At least two news photographers were roughed up, including one from the Los Angeles Times, who had his camera and film stolen.

The trouble apparently started when several people took down the "Welcome to Nebraska'' sign at the border and carried it down Whiteclay's main street.

At the rally, three of the nation's best-known American Indian activists said Saturday they intend to respond to racial tensions along the South Dakota-Nebraska border - including taking back part of northern Nebraska that is legally part of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.

Russell Means, Dennis Banks and Clyde Bellecourt said the rally was aimed at calling attention to alleged anti-Indian prejudice and racism which they allege has contributed to the unsolved slayings of Indians along the state line.

The editor of the Scottsbluff Star-Herald, Steve Miller, said he had gotten e-mails on Saturday from protesters who threatened to "take over the town'' unless Nebraska Gov. Mike Johanns arrived by Sunday.

"The governor doesn't deal with demands,'' said Chris Peterson, a spokesman for Johanns. "Making a demand that the governor travel two miles or two hours seems foolish, considering the governor's open-door policy. His home phone number is listed and he is always willing to listen and work with people.''

The rally took place less than two weeks before a scheduled visit by President Clinton to the reservation, which includes Shannon County, one of the poorest in the nation. A reservation villages, Oglala, was hit by tornadoes earlier this month that killed one man and destroyed about 160 buildings.

Means, Banks and Bellecourt want the presidential trip to include discussion of issues other than poverty.

"You will respond to a tornado. Why don't you respond to the tornado of murders?'' Bellecourt yelled at the several hundred people.

Some want billboard to stay down

Landmark caricature of Indian called offensive, historical

c. Associated Press 26 June 1999

WENATCHEE _ A landmark billboard of a winking Skookum Indian came down for repairs this week, and some people would like it to stay down.

Members of the city Advisory Committee on Cultural Relations don't want the pig-tailed Indian caricature to return.

They contend it is racist and demeaning and projects a poor image for Wenatchee.

Blue Bird Inc., which owns the sign, said Friday the billboard probably will be placed on the roof of the fruit cooperative's Walla Walla Avenue warehouse. It could also be reinstalled atop the old Skookum warehouse now owned by Blue Bird.

The 14-foot-high Indian -- it's actually two faces, back-to-back -- is now in storage. It was removed Wednesday.

"It's insulting and derogatory. It misrepresents our people," said Canyon Bernal, a Native American and member of the cultural relations committee.

Bernal said he's spoken with Blue Bird officials twice over the past year about removing the sign.

Blue Bird general manager Ron Gonsalves said Friday the sign will be put back up and remain visible to the public.

Blue Bird, which merged with the Skookum warehouse in 1995, still uses the Skookum label for apples. He said the logo is proprietary and important to the company's identity.

North Central Washington Museum officials say they, too, want to see the symbol return. Museum special projects director Kris Young said she's spoken with Blue Bird about getting the object added to the Wenatchee Register of Historic Places.

The museum is run by the city.

Cindy O'Meara, another member of the city cultural relations committee, said the group believes the Indian's prominent community status exhibits ignorance.

"I understand how strong the Native people feel about it," O'Meara said. "It's very disrespectful from their point of view."

The billboard was created by the Skookum fruit warehouse in 1921 and placed on the roof of the old Wenatchee Hotel. It was moved to the Skookum plant in the 1940s.

Over time, the billboard has evolved into a Wenatchee tradition. Tourists have chuckled at the sight. Many locals consider it a community icon.

O'Meara recalls talking about the Indian with friends as a child and viewing it as a positive thing.

"But the ignorance that is behind it is very obvious. When you go around the country to places, even here, they've removed the black Sambos and cartoon type of things," she said.

Indian Church Says Members in Military Gain OK To Use Peyote

© Albuquerque Journal June 21, 1999

FARMINGTON -- American Indian church leaders say the U.S. Department of Defense has approved a proposal to allow the use of peyote by church members who serve in the military. Representatives from the federal agency and the Native American Church of North America Inc. met here Friday during the church group's 50th annual convention to discuss the proposal.

Earl Arkinson, a member of the Chippewa and Cree tribes, is president of the Native American Church. He said Saturday that the military agreed to allow the use of peyote by church members. Arkinson called the deal with the military a significant achievement. "It will allow those in the armed services to take part in the sacrament peyote," he said.

Pentagon spokesman Lt. Col. Mike Milord said Sunday that he was unaware of the church group's proposal. Peyote, a button-shaped nodule that grows on cacti found only in parts of Mexico and Texas, is used during religious ceremonies by members of the Native American Church. Believers see it as a magical plant that can evoke visions of truth and allow them to commune with God. They also claim it can heal ailments from heart disease to rheumatism.

Congress had already recognized this by giving church members an exemption under the Native American Religious Freedom Act to continue practicing their religious ceremonies the same way they have for generations. According to church officials, the Department of Defense restricted peyote use for some church members who serve in the military. For example, those members who work with nuclear weapons will not be allowed to use the drug.

The agency estimated about 40 church members fit that category, Arkinson said. All other military personnel who belong to the Native American Church can use peyote in religious ceremonies, Arkinson said. At least 200 people from 23 states attended the church convention over the weekend in Farmington. Church members also discussed an effort by Texas lawmakers to restrict the harvesting and sale of peyote to church members. It was decided that a task force will meet with state officials in Austin next month to talk about any proposed changes in the law. Among the changes lawmakers are considering is a requirement for buyers to have more documentation proving they are bona fide members of the church.

Indian Fund Computer System Unveiled
By BOB ANEZ .c The Associated Press 6/25/99

BILLINGS, Mont. (AP) - Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt on Friday unveiled the federal government's new computer system for tracking $3 billion in trust accounts his agency manages for American Indian tribes and their members.

The $60 million project, introduced in the Bureau of Indian Affairs office here, is intended to address decades of mismanagement of the accounts.

The government is now defending itself in a class-action lawsuit filed by some account holders claiming the mishandling of the accounts has resulted in underpayments to Indians. Critics claim the mismanagement may have shortchanged Indians and tribes by billions of dollars in royalties and lease revenues from Indian land and from court settlements.

Babbitt said estimates of the money the government may owe Indians are "wildly overstated.''

"I don't know if it's $10 million or $100 million,'' he said. "The dollar figures are manageable.''

The computer system will be testing in the Billings BIA region - Montana and Wyoming - for two months before it is introduced in other parts of the country. The project is expected to be complete by 2001 when it will be in operation in 250 BIA and tribal offices.

The BIA handles 300,000 individual Indians' accounts worth $500 million and another 1,600 tribal accounts worth $2.5 billion. The accounts have been plagued by poor bookkeeping and information systems, and records have been lost or ruined over the years.

The new computer system is supposed to give Indians and tribes better access to their records and to link land ownership files with financial records, but it has been criticized by the General Accounting Office as haphazard and possibly unworkable.

Babbitt acknowledged the poor condition of some account records will mean the new computer system will not be totally accurate. "There is no such thing as 100 percent certainty; there is 99 percent certainty,'' he said.

Native Planet Foods Gears Up for Growth
c. BUSINESS WIRE June 28, 1999

SCOTTSDALE, Ariz.-- Native Planet Foods Inc. announced this week that it has retained the investment banking firm Sutro & Co. Inc. as private placement agent for the Scottsdale-based company.

Native Planet Foods' highly successful branded food products include Frutazza(R) fruit smoothies and Pima Naturals(TM) herbal supplements. The company also has developed the expanding Frozen Fusion(TM) franchise.

The company's rapid growth in these areas has created an outstanding institutional investment opportunity to help Native Planet Foods exploit its multi-channel growth strategy in the healthy foods market.

In addition to funding internal growth, funds from the private placement will help capitalize the company for acquisitions of other complementary companies and product lines with defined market niches in the area of healthy living food products.

Frozen Fusion(TM), the company's retail concept, operates a rapidly growing national chain of franchised real fruit smoothie stores which has expanded from one store to more than 25, with commitments for 70 more stores nationwide.

The company's real fruit smoothie product for the foodservice market, Frutazza(R), was recently awarded best tasting smoothie by the American Tasting Institute and cited on the cover of the 1999 Branding America Conference & Expo. Frutazza(R) is currently sold in more than 1,100 locations nationwide, including the leading contract management companies and large Quick Serve Restaurant operators.

Native Planet Foods also owns the Miss Karen's(TM) brand of frozen yogurt, which it sells nationally to hospitals, school and restaurants, among other venues. This year, the company introduced a line of individually packaged herbal supplements, Pima Naturals(TM), whose sales to foodservice outlets and convenience stores are exceeding all expectations.

Headquartered in Arizona, Native Planet Foods Inc. is a privately held corporation owned by the Salt River Pima-Maricopa Indian Community. Native Planet Foods is dedicated to the creation of products and services designed to promote a healthy lifestyle.

A portion of the proceeds from Native Planet Foods Inc. is used within the Salt River-Maricopa Indian Community for social and educational programs.

Native Americans are taking a more prominent role in managing Northwest public lands and resources
by Courtenay Thompson c. Newhouse News Service June 27, 1999

PORTLAND, Ore. - A deal that could enable the Grand Ronde Tribe to manage nearly 11,000 acres of public forest near its reservation is the first of its kind in the nation, federal officials say. It signals not only the growing stature of the Western Oregon tribe, but also the rising influence of Native American tribes nationwide over how public lands and resources are managed. "This is a pioneering effort," said Charles Wilkinson, an expert in federal and tribal natural-resource law at the University of Colorado in Boulder. "At the same time, the general field of cooperative agreements between tribes and governments is growing rapidly."

With growing expertise and savvy, tribes around the country are increasingly exerting influence over lands and resources that once were in tribal hands. They range from agreements with the National Park Service over sacred sites in Northern California to the Columbia River tribes' involvement in salmon management and the Nez Perce Tribe's management of wolf reintroduction in Idaho. In Oregon, examples are diverse. The Warm Springs Tribe works with the neighboring Mount Hood National Forest to help restore and preserve wild huckleberries, a sacred tribal food.

Two years ago, the Nez Perce Tribe acquired 10,300 acres in northeastern Oregon as part of a federal deal to compensate the tribe for wildlife lost to a federal dam project. And just last month, the Klamath Tribes signed an agreement with the U.S. Forest Service that gives them a voice in what happens on 1.2 million acres of former reservation land in south-central Oregon.

Jeff Mitchell, Klamath tribal chairman, said the Grand Ronde agreement, though markedly different from the Klamaths', is a sign of the increasing willingness of federal and state agencies to work with tribes on natural-resource issues. "To have a tribe manage a significant piece of property for the benefit of the community and the region, that's a big change," Mitchell said, "and a significant one."

The agreement between the Grand Ronde and the U.S. Forest Service contracts with the tribe to write a 10-year plan to manage 6,600 acres of the Siuslaw National Forest upstream from the tribe's reservation, tallying endangered species such as the northern spotted owl, evaluating water quality and assessing forest health.

U.S. Bureau of Land Management officials say they expect to sign a similar agreement in coming weeks with the tribe for 4,200 acres of BLM land also in the South Yamhill River watershed. The agreements may lead to an experiment in "stewardship," giving the Grand Ronde - best known for its multimillion-dollar casino - authority after two years to carry out the projects for fish, wildlife, streams and forests. The Grand Ronde also is writing a 10-year management plan for its 10,052-acre reservation, a forested chunk of the Coast Range 60 miles southwest of Portland. Officials say the agreements will give the tribe a greater say in what happens on former reservation lands, while coordinating efforts to establish a healthy forest and watershed across tribal and federal jurisdictions. "It's a significant, precedent-setting event," said Warren Tausch, a BLM official who worked on both agreements. Wilkinson, the tribal-law expert, said agreements such as the Grand Ronde's have accelerated nationwide in the past four to five years. Many tribes have developed substantial natural-resource staffs.

In Puget Sound, for example, as many fish biologists work for tribes as for state and federal agencies, Wilkinson said. At the same time, he said, federal and state agencies have become increasingly aware of the sovereign status of tribes, and of the federal government's responsibility to protect resources, such as fish and wildlife, often protected by treaty. Prodded by federal-court decisions and executive orders issued by President Clinton and governors such as Oregon's John Kitzhaber, federal and state agencies have been more willing to work with tribes as governmental entities with legitimate interests. The trend is here to stay, Wilkinson said. "I think almost inevitably it will be more comprehensive and more common each year as you go along," he said.

Jeff Mitchell, chairman of the Klamath Tribes, said the Forest Service has agreed to consult with the tribe on a range of issues - from big game to cultural sites - before taking action on more than 1.2 million acres of former reservation land on and near the Fremont and Winema national forests. "It's a real milestone to the tribes," he said, because it institutionalizes the tribe's role in the forest's management. The tribe retains treaty rights to hunt and fish on the former reservation, as well as water rights throughout the basin. "I think generally there has been a change and a shift in the recognition of tribes' treaties, and treaty rights and treaty resources," Mitchell said, pointing to Kitzhaber's order that state agencies work directly with the state's nine tribes. "That provided a framework for tribes to sit down with the state of Oregon and work through issues, whereas 10 years before, the only recourse would have been to go to court. "So we're seeing a shift not only on the federal level, but the state level as well."

The Grand Ronde agreements with the Forest Service and BLM were two years in the making. Tausch, the BLM official who helped craft the deals, said the negotiated agreements are part of the government's attempt under the Northwest Forest Plan to develop collaborative, inclusive approaches to forest management. The land is a part of a so-called "adaptive management area" under the Northwest plan, meaning the government is encouraged to enter into partnerships and seek innovative ideas for management.

The Forest Service land also is targeted for fostering old-growth forest characteristics, such as snags for wildlife and large, mature trees. The Grand Ronde Tribe will, in effect, act as a consultant to the federal agencies, outlining specific projects to achieve goals set by the federal policies. The tribe will be paid $55,000 in the first year of the Forest Service contract and is expected to be paid $35,000 for the first year of the BLM contract.

After the plan is written, the agreement calls for the tribe - with its staff of more than 12 biologists, forest scientists, water-quality specialists and others - to contract with the agency to carry out the management plan. That could include arranging for timber sales to thin crowded stands, installing fish-friendly culverts or recommending removal of roads.

Don Gonzalez, Hebo District ranger for the Siuslaw National Forest, said the final authority would continue to rest with the federal agency. But the agreement has raised concern among some local community members, who were upset that they were told of the plan just two days before the Forest Service agreement was signed. U.S. Sen. Gordon Smith, R-Ore., last week sent Forest Service chief Mike Dombeck a letter protesting the lack of public involvement. Gonzalez, who helped craft the deal, said he apologized to local officials and tried to dispel fears that the tribe was somehow taking control of Forest Service land. "People say, `That's our national forest,' and that's right," Gonzalez said. "We're looking at ways to manage it more effectively and efficiently and better."

Navajo Nation Sues Peabody Coal, Edison Intl Over Coal Payments
c. Bloomberg Jul/02/1999

Washington, -- Edison International's Southern California Edison utility said it and Peabody Group, the world's largest coal miner, are being sued by the Navajo Nation for up to $2.8 billion over coal taken from tribal land.

The suit, filed in the U.S. District Court in Washington, D.C., claims the American Indian tribe was cheated out of royalties on the coal that Peabody mines and sells under contract to Edison's Mohave power plant in Laughlin, Nevada.

Edison said it needs Peabody's coal to run the Mohave plant and plans to vigorously defend the suit. The Mohave plant consumes about 5 million tons of coal annually.

"The claims against us have no merit,'' said Steve Hansen, a Southern California Edison spokesman.

Edison operates and has a 56 percent stake in the 1,500- megawatt plant, which supplies power to as many as 1.5 million homes in California and the Southwest U.S. The Los Angeles Department of Water & Power owns 20 percent, Nevada Power Co. 14 percent, and Salt River Project, a federal power agency, owns 10 percent.

Navajo Nation is seeking damages of $600 million, which it wants to triple, and punitive damages of $1 billion, Edison said in a U.S. Securities & Exchange Commission filing. It also wants to terminate Peabody's lease and contract rights to mine coal on Navajo land.

Rosemead, California-based Edison International is the eighth-largest U.S. power company. Its shares fell 1/16 to 27. St. Louis-based Peabody Group is owned by Lehman Brothers Holding Inc.'s P&L Coal Holdings Corp.

Oglala Sioux Promise Peaceful March
By KEVIN O'HANLON .c The Associated Press 7/3/99

WHITECLAY, Neb. (AP) - Oglala Sioux leaders vowed to march in peace today, a week after activists tore down signs and looted a grocery in this tiny Plains town to protest alleged treaty violations, unsolved murders and the sale of alcohol to American Indians.

With President Clinton visiting the nearby Pine Ridge Indian Reservation next week, tribal leaders said it was important to show the tribe can solve problems without resorting to violence.

However, Whiteclay was virtually deserted on the eve of the march, its businesses closed and its highway blocked off. More than 100 State Patrol troopers were called in.

"That's just in case something goes south on us,'' State Patrol Superintendent Col. Tom Nesbitt said.

Activists planned to march 2 miles from the sprawling reservation in South Dakota over the state line into Whiteclay, where they would set up tepees and occupy the village until state officials addressed their concerns.

Tribal leaders called the event a prayer march and said they didn't want it to turn ugly because of Clinton's visit on Tuesday. The president is expected to discuss economic development in Indian communities and tour tornado-damaged parts of Oglala, S.D.

Still, Gov. Mike Johanns ordered the evacuation of Whiteclay's 22 residents. He met for an hour with four Oglala Sioux officials, including president Harold Salway, who said the demonstration would be peaceful.

"When you come to pray, I don't see how there can be any worries,'' Salway said.

"I believe we have a good start,'' Johanns said. "This is a prayer march. We want to emphasize that.''

Last Saturday, about 350 Indians marched along the same route before setting fires, looting a Whiteclay grocery store and tearing down a "Welcome to Nebraska'' sign at the state line.

American Indian Movement leaders and members of the Oglala Sioux say the U.S. government has violated an 1868 treaty that reserved parts of North and South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana and Nebraska for the Sioux.

Tribe members are also upset that four stores in Whiteclay sell more than $3 million worth of beer each year, mostly to Indians with drinking problems. Alcohol is banned on the reservation, a 5,000-square-mile expanse that is home to 15,000 Oglala Sioux and one of the nation's highest alcoholism-related mortality rates.

"If the bars weren't there, a lot of our people, including my cousin and younger brother, would be alive today,'' said Tom Poor Bear, who organized last weekend's rally.

Also, tribe members say local police have not done enough to investigate the deaths of Wilson Black Elk Jr., 40, and Ronald Hard Heart, 39, whose bodies were found June 8 in a culvert near the Nebraska line. Poor Bear is Black Elk's older half-brother and Hard Heart's cousin.

Johanns said the state could not offer much help with the investigation because the bodies were found in South Dakota. Federal and tribal police have announced a $15,000 reward for information on the slayings.

Arrested at Indian Tribe Protest
.c The Associated Press By KEVIN O'HANLON 7/3/99

WHITECLAY, Neb. (AP) - Members of the Oglala Sioux tribe converged on this tiny town Saturday to protest alleged treaty violations, unsolved murders and alcohol sales, and nine people were arrested, including activist Russell Means.

About 150 people marched the two miles from the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, and scores of others rode in cars.

They were met by more than 100 riot-equipped Nebraska state troopers, who stood toe-to-toe with the marchers and ordered them not to cross a line of yellow tape at the edge of Whiteclay, about a city block from the state line.

Moments later, Means - who led a 1973 uprising at Wounded Knee, S.D. - and several other demonstrators crossed the tape and were arrested.

One man riding bareback on a horse skirted the police line and rode, hollering, through an adjacent field. Some in the crowd shouted at troopers or threw rocks. No one was hurt.

The demonstration later ended peacefully and most of the participants headed back to Pine Ridge. Means and the others who were arrested would probably be given misdemeanor citations for refusing a lawful order, state police said.

The town's 22 residents had been ordered to leave the day before by Nebraska Gov. Mike Johanns. While tribal leaders said it would be a peaceful march, some participants had threatened to occupy the village until state officials addressed their concerns.

A rally one week ago in Whiteclay ended with looting and burning.

The protests stem from allegations by American Indian Movement leaders and members of the Oglala Sioux that the federal government has violated an 1868 treaty that reserved parts of what are now North Dakota and South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana and Nebraska for the Sioux.

Tribe members also are upset that four stores in Whiteclay sell more than $3 million worth of beer each year, mostly to Indians with drinking problems. Alcohol is banned on the reservation, a 5,000-square-mile expanse that is home to 15,000 Oglala Sioux and has one of the nation's highest alcoholism-related mortality rates.

Also, tribe members say local police have not done enough to investigate the deaths of two Sioux men whose bodies were found June 8 in a culvert near the Nebraska line.

Johanns said Nebraska could not offer much help because the bodies were found in South Dakota. Federal and tribal police have announced a $15,000 reward for information on the slayings.

At a rally before Saturday's march in Pine Ridge, calls for militant action in Whiteclay mingled with prayer drums and pleas for peace.

"If I had it my way, we'd tear the damn town down to the ground, but we can't do that,'' AIM activist Clyde Bellecourt said.

President Clinton is set to visit Pine Ridge on Wednesday, and is expected to discuss economic development in Indian communities and tour tornado-damaged parts of Oglala.

Lack of housing, jobs, mark reservation life
By Carey Gillam c. Reuters 7/4/99

PINE RIDGE, S.D. - Seventeen years ago, Belleron Blue Bird put his name on the list of Oglala Sioux waiting to own a home on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.

He is still waiting. With his wife Lucille and their five young children, Blue Bird, who works odd jobs on the reservation, makes his home in a one-room, 400-square-foot rented shack.

It is cheap at $50 a month, but lacks plumbing and heat and leaves little room for living after the family packs in two beds, a refrigerator and a gas stove that, if left on, provides warmth in winter.

A recently donated outhouse was a welcome gift. But Lucille, 31, who makes $50 a week selling tacos on the street, is still desperate to escape the cracked, sagging ceiling and the mice that scurry across worn floor boards.

"We need a house,'' she told Reuters. "Just some space to live.''

This sentiment is common on the reservation, where thousands of members of the Oglala Sioux tribe must make homes with more fortunate friends and relatives or in garages or crumbling shacks.

The Pine Ridge reservation -- which President Clinton plans to visit July 7 on a tour of impoverished areas -- is beset by such dire poverty that Shannon County, which represents most of the reservation's 24,000 people, ranks as the most poverty-stricken county in America.

"Tiospaye'' -- families taking care their own -- is a traditional tenet that translates to a typical household of more than 10 people. Often, even 20 to 30 adults and children share a single small house without a place to bathe or use a toilet. A jobless rate of more than 75 percent leaves many households to subsist on meager government and tribal assistance programs.

Overcrowded and unsanitary conditions breed disease and despair. Babies die at a rate 2.5 times above the national average; diabetes is eight times higher; tuberculosis is 10 times the South Dakota state average and roughly five times the national rate, and alcoholism and suicide are persistent problems, according to official statistics.

"It's like a third-world country,'' said assistance worker Vashti Apostol-Hurst, who runs the National Association for American Indian Children and Elders from Pine Ridge.

To be sure, poverty among the 2.3 million American Indians that make up 557 federally recognized tribes is not limited to Pine Ridge. Since the late 1800s when the battles between whites and Native Americans forced the end of several aspects of Indian life, many tribes have struggled.

On average, 31 percent of the nation's reservation inhabitants live in poverty, and wrestle with a 46 percent unemployment rate, according to the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) in Washington.

But here in the shadow of Wounded Knee, where the U.S. Army massacred hundreds of tribal members in 1890 before forcing the tribe onto the reservation, the poverty is pervasive.

By some tribal estimates, nearly half the population is on assistance. Tribal housing officials estimate more than 4,000 homes are needed to address the housing crunch adequately.

Disputes over reservation land use, fragmented ownership of even small tracts of land, racial conflicts and a deep mistrust of whites and the federal government have limited housing and business development on Pine Ridge.

The result is that while the reservation totals some two million acres, there is no easy access to land for people who want to buy a house or open a business.

Aside from a gas station-cum-restaurant, a taco place and a pizza joint, there are few basic business services, and spending money drains away to neighboring towns. Efforts to open a bank on the reservation have failed.

"We have to find a way to create jobs for our people,'' said tribal vice president Wilbur Between Lodges.

Many residents believe better times lie ahead. Pine Ridge has been designated the nation's first Indian reservation ''empowerment zone,'' which will make tax breaks and other incentives available to businesses that invest there.

A federal-tribal housing program is helping families buy new manufactured three- and four-bedroom homes. The first group of 19 families start moving in this month.

"I'm going to move in the moment I'm closed. I'm already packed,'' said Lucy Vocu, a 33-year-old mother of two and school teacher who has bought a new $64,000 three-bedroom home.

Vocu said she could not buy a house before because of the difficulty in obtaining land. "If I have to get a second job, I will,'' she said. "Nobody is taking this away from me.''

Despite the daily struggle, many of the Oglala people say life is good. A clean blue sky, jagged buttes and rolling grasslands encourage camping and hiking, and frequent spiritual gatherings keep communities tightly knit.

Even 21-year-old Mary Standing Bear, who recently gave birth to a daughter while she and her husband lived in a relative's garage, said life on Pine Ridge "is not so bad.''

The history and cultural heritage of reservation residents makes them rich, Standing Bear and many others said.

Robert Running Bear missed the reservation life so much that he moved back to Pine Ridge from his AT&T job in Denver 20 years ago. This weekend, he plans to don his moccasins and join in an ancient four-day spiritual ceremony, the Sun Dance.

"It's a simple life here,'' he said. "The sun comes up, the sun goes down. We pass our days.''

Leonard Peltier Update

The Nelson Mandela of America

Imprisoned native leader Leonard Peltier finally allowed to meet Sun columnist in Leavenworth lockup By PETER WORTHINGTON -- Toronto Sun

LEAVENWORTH, Kansas -- The prisoner who's dubbed the North American Nelson Mandela seemed pleased to see me. At first I had been refused access to Leonard Peltier, the Ojibwa-Sioux serving two life sentences in the maximum security federal prison at Leavenworth for the death of two FBI agents at South Dakota's Pine Ridge Reserve in 1975. I had visited Peltier twice before, in 1992 and 1995 when, after looking into the case at some length, felt -- along with others -- that he was framed by the FBI and the "system" that wanted someone, anyone, punished for the shooting deaths of agents Ron Williams and Jack Coler in the range war of those turmoiled times. Without explanation, Leavenworth's warden, J.W. Booker, changed his mind after I wrote a lengthy article equating Peltier with Nelson Mandela. I had speculated that he was denied visitors because his health was worsening and authorities wouldn't be unhappy if he died in prison. The Mandela pa

rallel is apt. Mandela was 27 years in South African prisons before world pressure got him freed. Peltier is into his 24th year in prison for murders that the FBI and prosecutors now admit "we don't know who fired those shots." He has a form of lockjaw that prevents him from eating properly. His jaw is atrophied at a half-inch opening. He is denied specialist treatment. Like Mandela, Peltier's sole motivation is working for his people, whom he sees as disadvantaged (to put it generously). He was a member of AIM (the American Indian Movement) in the mid-'70s which the FBI, somewhat hysterically, branded "subversive, extremist with a record of violence" and likely Communist. Last week I visited Peltier, first getting a guided tour of Leavenworth, courtesy of the prison's executive assistant, Bob Bennett. It is a remarkable prison of some 1,800 inmates and 600 staff, where the average sentence is around 20 years -- a city within walls, without women, where the pace is slow, amenities impressive, security phenomenal. Peltier has aged since our last meeting, but seemed robust. As usual, he was optimistic about efforts being made on his behalf. A week earlier he'd met Danielle Mitterrand, widow of France's former president, who urged executive clemency. The day after my visit he was to be interviewed by CNN (which had previously been denied access). Soon he's scheduled to meet delegates from the European Parliament, which has also urged his release. Peltier was puzzled and upset that Canada's Justice Minister Anne McLellan had recently responded to Reform Party questions that at his extradition hearings in 1976 no one had lied and "there is no evidence of any fraud in the extradition process." In fact, fraud illuminates the extradition. A sworn affidavit by one Myrtle Poor Bear that she was Peltier's girlfriend and had witnessed him kill the wounded FBI agents was (according to Paul Halprin, the Canadian lawyer representing the U.S. government at the extradition hearings) key in getting him extradited. It subsequently turned out that Poor Bear was mentally incompetent, had never met Peltier, wasn't on the Pine Ridge reserve that day. Her affidavit was dictated and concocted by the FBI. She had done three affidavits -- the first saying she didn't witness anything. Her other two were a combination of perjury, concocting evidence, fabrication and criminal impropriety.

FALSE AFFIDAVIT As well as getting Peltier extradited, the fraudulent affidavit was also a contemptuous violation of the extradition treaty and deliberate ploy to corrupt the justice system. This is not an opinion, it is fact acknowledged by the courts at every level except, it seems, the Canadian government. "Why would your justice minister say such a thing that everyone knows is untrue?" Peltier wonders. I told him, as I said on an Edmonton radio station, that McLellan was either ignorant of the case, or not telling the truth. McLellan's other evidence, as well as the phony affidavit (which she insisted wasn't phony), was enough to get Peltier extradited -- a view disputed by former solicitor-general Warren Allmand who reviewed the case a couple of years ago for then-justice minister Allan Rock. Today, Allmand says the Poor Bear affidavit was virtually the only reason Peltier was extradited. "If it wasn't for that false affidavit I wouldn't have been extradited," says Peltier. "If they'd had other evidence, they (the FBI and prosecutors) would never have jeopardized their careers, their reputations by creating false affidavits the way they did." Maybe, but they got away with it. Peltier is encouraged that the conservative Reform Party and the socialist NDP in Parliament seem aligned in wanting Canada to protest the fraudulent extradition. "My case should cut across ideological lines," he says. "It's not an issue of left and right, but one of right and wrong." Not a day goes by that Peltier doesn't mentally review his case and the range war at Pine Ridge and Wounded Knee in the mid-'70s, when the FBI, Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) police, the GOONs (Guardian of Oglala Nation), SWAT teams, vigilantes and National Guard were poised. Uranium deposits on Indian land were sought by government. AIM and traditional Indians felt another treaty was about to be violated in the name of expediency. In that time-frame, 60 Indians were murdered -- 47 of them AIM supporters. The wounded exceeded 300. Not one Indian death was investigated. "It was war," recalls Peltier. Initially, the FBI put Indians Bob Robideau and Dino Butler on trial for shooting the two FBI agents who had entered the Jumping Bull compound on June 26, 1975, ostensibly to arrest one Jimmy Eagle for allegedly stealing a pair of cowboy boots. It came out at the trial that some 50 FBI agents and police were poised to attack the compound. The jury acquitted the pair, ruling self-defence. Peltier still has difficulty understanding how he could have been found guilty of first-degree murder, and then have the FBI and prosecutors admit they didn't know who pulled the trigger and say that Peltier was guilty not of murder, but of aiding and abetting. This distinction also confused appeal judges Donald Ross and Gerald Heaney, who said if Peltier had been tried for aiding and abetting, the verdict might have been difficult.

IMPROPER TACTICS Judge Heaney reluctantly rejected the appeal because he said while it was "possible" the jury would have reached a different verdict had evidence not been withheld, he wasn't sure the jury would "probably" have acquitted Peltier. He lambasted the FBI. Judge Heaney later wrote Senator Dan Inouye of Hawaii a letter which he asked be delivered to the president. He said that the government had "over-reacted at Wounded Knee;" that it "must share responsibility" for the violence; that "more than one person was involved in the shooting of the FBI agents;" that the "FBI used improper tactics in securing Peltier's extradition;" and that the president should invoke clemency to let "a healing process" begin. An astonishing letter from an appeal court judge. To no avail. While Peltier looks robust, his long hair and moustache show traces of white. At age 55, he has no self-pity, his sense of humour is unaffected, but he's in obvious discomfort, if not outright pain. Two operations on his atrophied jaw were botched, the second one in 1996 putting him in a coma for 14 hours and necessitating a total blood transfusion. He's understandably wary of prison surgeons. Dr. E.E. Keller of the Mayo Clinic, a specialist in this form of jaw ailment, has seen Peltier's files and thinks he can correct it. But the prison says no -- it's their surgeons or no one. The warden issued a statement that the Medical Centre for Federal Prisoners at Springfield, Missouri, has confirmed Peltier suffers from ankylosis (fusing of the jawbone joints) which "prohibits him from properly opening or closing his mouth." Although Peltier refuses further treatment at Springfield, the prison feels his "condition is stable and does not warrant prolonged, intensive treatment." Peltier eats by shoving food through a missing front tooth and mashing it against his teeth with his tongue. Wires from the bungled jaw operation jut into his mouth, causing acute pain. "As I'm over 50, I get medical checks every six months, and I always complain about my jaw and headaches and pain on the right side of my face reaching the eye," he says. "But medical staff say there's a standing order they can't discuss my jaw or the pain. "I have the beginning of an abscessed tooth at the back, which can't be treated ... I'd like the Mayo Clinic to look at it." "Why won't they send you there?" I wonder. "The prison says inmates can't dictate treatment. Also, they think I might escape." (Which he once did in 1979.) "Would you escape?" "Never. It would be a betrayal of my supporters." I suggest that his enemies would relish him escaping because it would undermine his campaign for amnesty, which is gaining momentum. Peltier agrees: "I just want my jaw treated, to be able to open and close my mouth, to eat properly, to ease the pain, to be normal." Peltier doesn't have the prison shuffle or lethargy one often sees in inmates with no future. He is fatalistic, but not resigned. He's become a leader, a symbol for Indians in the U.S. and Canada.

MOVIE RIGHTS These days he's excited because two movies are in the works. One by Steven Segal about his life, the other by an Indian movie company called Smoke Signals, involving Whoopi Goldberg, Winona Ryder and Matt Damon. He says: "I'm especially interested in the Indian production -- they've got the rights to Peter Mathiessen's book, In the Spirit of Crazy Horse. Whoopi seems really keen." I suggest that Graham Greene would be a natural to play him. Peltier seems to think he resembles Segal. I joke that perhaps he'd like Sylvester Stallone or Arnold Schwarzenegger. He laughs. In Robert Redford's documentary, Incident at Oglala, there's an interview with a masked man identified only as "Mr. X," who claims he did the shooting. What about that? "I don't know for a fact who did the shooting, but I think I know," says Peltier. "But I can't say anything. Who'd believe me? Besides, we have a tradition that you don't turn against your own. This wasn't a domestic dispute in 1975, it was a war. A soldier who's captured and turns against his own is ostracized. I want out of prison bad, I want to see my grandkids, I want to live what life I have left in freedom, but I can't point a finger at someone else. "What's happened to me is what's been happening to Indians one way or another since the beginning. I didn't create the political climate of the 1970s but I lived it, like all Indians." As for the immediate future, Peltier is encouraged that Amnesty International no longer merely urges his case be reviewed for a new trial, but urges immediate and unconditional release -- something he says the Methodist Church in America now advocates. He thinks support is growing. Many early supporters who grew weary and frustrated over the years and left, have returned to the cause. The Congress of American Indians and Canada's Assembly of First Nations, representing virtually every North American Indian, plan joint action on his behalf. "It would be useful if 500 or 1,000 tepees would arrive in Washington as a show of solidarity. It'd be theatre, but Indians are good at theatre. Tepees and a couple of hundred horses and Indians in traditional dress would have an effect. I know a hundred right now who would go, but who'd pay for it?" Who indeed? Peltier facetiously suggests Microsoft's Bill Gates, supposedly the richest man in the world, might sponsor such a rally since he's feuding with the government. Peltier is pretty active, despite his jaw and frustrations of getting justice. His paintings are sold or turned into prints which raise money for his defence. Extra money goes into a scholarship fund. For years he's tried to figure a way to paint the legendary Crazy Horse, with whom he identifies and is increasingly compared. Any day now Peltier's autobiography comes out -- Prison Writings: My Life Is My Sundance, edited by former National Geographic writer and specialist on Indian culture, Harvey Arden, and published by St. Martin's Press. In the meantime, like Nelson Mandela before him, he waits patiently and plans how to work for his people when he's released, something he is convinced is inevitable and predestined. Leavenworth prison authorities, on the other hand, note caustically that as far as they are concerned, Leonard Peltier will be a free man only when his sentence ends in 2040, when he turns 97.

More to Come...

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