Tribes Bristle at Political Criticism

On a warm evening with a sliver of moon hanging over the desert, hundreds of Indians from across the nation gathered Saturday near Palm Springs for a powwow -- and to occasionally talk about the upcoming recall election.

The annual Thunder and Lightning Pow-Wow was a decidedly apolitical event.

Still, it took place on the reservation of the Morongo Band of Mission Indians, and the subject of casino gambling and its effects on the recall cast a shadow on the event.

One reason: Looming over the event was the shell of a concrete tower that will be the Morongos’ new $250-million, 23-story casino and spa when construction is finished next year. It will replace their current casino, which has allowed the Morongos to make millions of dollars in political contributions in the last several years.

Waiting her turn to join in the traditional dancing was Elizabeth Kolb, 21, a member of the Rincon Band of Luiseno Indians, which has a casino in northern San Diego County. She was mad at Arnold Schwarzenegger, who called in a recent ad for the taxing of gambling revenues from casinos.

“I don’t think we should pay more to have the gambling,” she said. “Our land was taken from us. Now we’re getting something back and they’re trying to take it from us.”

Many Indians in attendance spoke frankly about gambling, the recall candidates and the large campaign contributions that some tribes are making. Last week, for example, the Morongo Band gave $2 million to an effort on behalf of Tom McClintock’s campaign for governor. While Indians spoke with pride of their newfound influence on state politics, many also said they felt the sting of what they believe are unfair criticisms of the tribes. Particularly irksome, many Indians said, is the accusation that they are not paying their fair share of taxes. Some contended that it has long been the American way to use money, and lots of it if you have it, to stand up for what you believe in.

Jerry Cleveland Jr., 35, a Hochunk Indian from Wisconsin, said he was astonished when he arrived in California earlier this week and flipped on a TV, only to be greeted by the Schwarzenegger ad.

“He’s not paying us anything, so why should we pay him?” asked Cleveland, pausing to have his photo taken with tourists. He half-smiled, then added: “How would Schwarzenegger like it if we took his house and land away and killed his family? Well that’s what happened to us.”

Cleveland -- who gets $1,100 a month from his tribe’s casino -- urged California Indians to use their political muscle to ensure that someone like Schwarzenegger doesn’t gain power. “Money talks,” Cleveland said. “Our governor in Wisconsin knows he can’t run us off. We have money and power -- and power is what it’s all about.”

A giant tent had been set up for traditional dancing. Sitting in a patio chair and resting after dancing was David Running Horse, 60, whose grandchildren have recently taken to calling him David Slow Turtle.

A Southern Cheyenne who splits his time between Denver and Santa Barbara, Running Horse said that he has mixed feelings about gambling. He said he was glad his tribe didn’t have a casino because he feels it would have a corrupting influence.

Yet, motioning around at the giant tent, he acknowledged that “the casino is paying for all this.”

Running Horse was just getting started. “That man,” he said, referring to Schwarzenegger, “says he wants to tax the American Indian. Well, he better start paying us rent. This is our land. We didn’t sell it. It was taken from us.”

Many Indians also fear the gambling won’t last. The Indians’ gaming compact with the state expires in 2020 and many tribes are working under the assumption that the agreement will be torn up, just as were many of the land treaties that tribes signed with the federal government in the 19th century.

“Not all the tribes have gambling and not all of them are rich,” said Dennis Alto, 44, a Kumeyaay Indian and alcohol and drug counselor who lives in San Diego and doesn’t receive money from the casinos. “But as the gambling goes on, it will get better.”

The state has signed a 20-year gambling compact with California tribes that earmarks some gambling revenues to go to tribes without casinos and to local governments to offset the cost of building and maintaining services to casinos. Alto argued that the compact shows the tribes are not keeping their gambling revenue to themselves.

The Morongo Band’s casino is just down the hill from where the powwow was held. It’s a sprawling building, filled with hundreds of slot machines, as well as blackjack and poker tables and a bingo hall.

By 8:30 p.m. Saturday night, the casino parking lot was filled and there was already a long line at the check cashing booth. Inside, cigarette smoke hung in the air; California’s indoor smoking ban doesn’t apply because the tribe is a sovereign entity.

Only the Morongo Band knows precisely how much money the casino makes, but it has been estimated that tribes in California generate $5 billion annually in gaming revenues.

With a steady drumbeat and singing filling the air, Morongo tribal chairman Maurice Lyons watched a young girl twirl around amid the dancers. “The kids start dancing as soon as they start walking,” he said. Lyons believes that gambling money helps keep such Indian culture alive.

He said that the Morongos plan to build permanent powwow grounds that will allow them to expand the event. He envisions hundreds of tribes from across the country traveling one day to the reservation to celebrate Indian ways of life.

“But we can’t build it without the casino,” he said. “In 1924, Indians got the right to vote. We’re finally part of the process and now that we have the casinos, we’re going to be a player.”

In addition to the money the Morongos have donated to the McClintock campaign, they have given $475,000 to help Cruz Bustamante and $25,000 to a “vote no” appeal on the recall campaign.

Although the donations seem contradictory, Lyons said it’s just a matter of helping friends of the tribe. Bustamante and McClintock have been good friends because both candidates have made it abundantly clear they would not seek to tax gaming revenues, whereas Gov. Gray Davis has said he wants the state to tax those revenues.

“I don’t care if two of our friends run for the same office,” said Lyons. “I’ll help them both.”

Many of those at the powwow said their allegiances are generally with the Democrats.

In that spirit, the Riverside County Democratic Central Committee had a booth to register voters at the powwow, even though registration for the recall had closed Sept. 22. Jackie Atwood, 60, the registration chairwoman for the Democrats, said she had nonetheless signed up about 30 more Indians.

She also pointed out that there was no Republican booth at the powwow.

Atwood, who is not an Indian, said that interest in voting on the Morongo reservation has increased along with the tribe’s gambling fortunes. “They’ve learned they can stand up and say ‘I care.’ They’re no longer marginalized, living in the middle of nowhere with no money. Well, they’re still living in the middle of nowhere, but they’ve got money.”

Atwood lives near the reservation and she, too, has some mixed feelings about the development that has come along with the casino. “They still need new roads.... I’ll see the new casino from my backyard. But things are better out here than they were five years ago.”

Sitting in a nearby booth was Bill Marin, 63, of Oakland. He was selling T-shirts designed by his son, whose views tend to be more militant than his.

One shirt, for example, read “Us Vs. Them” -- the “us” being Indians and “them” being whites.

Marin is a member of the Washoe tribe from Nevada. He said that he doesn’t make a dime in gambling revenues and that he personally pays plenty of taxes -- despite what Schwarzenegger might imply.

Marin is retired, but he worked for nine years as an employment specialist with the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs. He worries that casinos may move into urban areas, where they don’t belong.

There are still plenty of impoverished Indians and he believes the casinos ultimately will mean more jobs, and money, for both Indians and non-Indians.

Marin also made it clear that he is fiercely proud that Indians have become a force in state politics.

“It’s about time Indians had a dollar to buy a vote,” said Marin, with a slight chuckle. “Everyone else has been doing it for hundreds of years.”