Call of the casino

By GRACE MURPHY, Portland Press Herald Writer

Copyright © 2002 Blethen Maine Newspapers Inc.

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INDIAN TOWNSHIP — Every day, 63-year-old Molly Neptune/Parker rises at dawn to open the only restaurant on the Passamaquoddy reservation. After closing at 2 p.m., she spends the next eight hours weaving baskets for tourists from braids of sweet grass and strips of ash. In warmer months, visitors knock on her door for the keys to the seasonal cottages she rents by the edge of Lewy Lake.

These three jobs keep Neptune/Parker from joining the ranks of the other tribal members who are without work. But they aren't making her wealthy, and retirement is not in her plans. That's why, as a member of the Indian Township Tribal Council, she is working to build a gambling casino in Maine.

"If I had my way, I'd go ahead and do it right now," she said. "If I was the tribal chief, I would've started construction right here."

The Passamaquoddy Tribe has 3,300 members, nearly half of whom live on the tribe's two Washington County reservations, where unemployment hovers at 50 percent. Like other Native American reservations throughout the United States, the areas reserved by the federal government as permanent tribal homelands are in remote and economically depressed regions.

Increasingly, America's tribes are turning to gaming and casinos to provide jobs and money for their members. Of the 562 federally recognized Native American tribes, 201 were engaged in bingo, related games, or casino gaming in 2000. The operations generated $10.6 billion in revenue and employed 250,000 people, according to the National Indian Gaming Association.

Now the Passamaquoddy Tribe and Penobscot Nation want the same chance. The tribes are proposing to build a $400 million to $600 million Foxwoods-style casino resort on private property somewhere in southern Maine, and possibly a second casino in Calais. They believe the casinos will be an economic salvation for their reservations and their neighbors.

But because Maine is exempt from the federal law that allows tribes in other states to have casinos, the state Legislature would have to amend the 1980 Maine Indian Land Claims Act to allow casino gambling on land owned by the tribes. Without such permission, the tribes have no more right than any other entity, be it a government, business or Rotary Club, to operate a casino in Maine.

The proposal has divided Maine along geographic lines. In the poorer, rural communities north, west and east of Bangor, a casino is seen as a way to solve problems and create jobs where few exist. In the more affluent, populous south, many say a casino could cause problems and destroy the existing quality of life. The proposal has also altered Maine's political landscape by becoming a central issue in this year's gubernatorial race.

"This is a problem that affects the entire state," said Jim Bartlett, a York resident and member of Casinos No!, a casino opposition group based in southern Maine. Bartlett believes a casino threatens Maine's tourist industry and would take customers from restaurants and motels. He also objects to the idea of the state making money from people who are losing money gambling.

He and other opponents see no difference between allowing the tribes to build a casino within the state, and opening the doors to Atlantic City casino mogul Donald Trump.

Passamaquoddy state Rep. Donald Soctomah knows a casino is a tough sell. But he hopes people will wait until they see the tribes' proposal later this year before making up their minds.

"If the casino doesn't happen, we're survivors," he said. "But it's going to be a hard survival. Our backs are against the wall right now."

Down to defeat in 1994

This isn't the first time Maine's Native Americans have proposed building a casino. In 1993, the Passamaquoddies submitted a bill to the state Legislature to build a casino in Calais. Lawmakers defeated that measure by a 2-to-1 margin in 1994.

The tribe went to U.S. District Court, then the U.S. District Court of Appeals, trying to convince the state of its right to build a casino on tribal lands. But both courts ruled that Maine is exempt from the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act, which allows tribes in other states to have casinos.

The courts cited the 1980 Maine Indian Land Claims Settlement Act. The act gave the Passamaquoddies, Penobscots and Houlton Band of Maliseets $81.5 million in 1980 but contained a clause that said any future laws for the benefit of Native Americans would not apply in this state "unless specifically made applicable."

Eight years later, when Congress passed the gaming act, the law did not mention Maine. A panel of federal appellate judges ruled in 1996 that because the gaming act does not specifically mention Maine, it does not apply in this state.

Since then, tribal leaders say they have struggled to lower unemployment rates and improve housing conditions and access to health care, especially at the Passamaquoddy Tribe's reservations near the Canadian border.

Unemployment in Washington County is 11 percent, the highest in Maine. The state jobless rate in March was 4.2 percent. Indian Township reservation is located near Princeton, on Route 1. There are 670 tribal members who call the forestland and lakeshore home.

Charles Polches, 50, was a carpenter, landscaper, and shoveled snow until he shattered two disks in his back three years ago. While learning new job skills on the computer, he injured both wrists and can no longer work.

He now relies on one of the canes he used to carve for others. Pain and braces on his wrists keep Polches from making the canes, staffs and totems that told the story of his tribe.

"The trauma from being unable to work when you really want to is really hard," Polches said. "I've never seen so many people ask for (the casino) now. Just the atmosphere of people not working is hard."

Living conditions have improved in Indian Township since Polches was born. Gone are the tar-paper shacks of the 1960s, where multiple generations lived together.

They were replaced by federally funded brick, cement and ranch-style modular homes along the waterfront, or in subdivisions tucked into the tall pines. The homes were designed for the southwestern United States, however, and leave elderly people shivering once the temperatures drop, Soctomah said.

Housing problems are more striking at Pleasant Point, called Sipayik, where more than 640 people live. The reservation, on Route 109 between Perry and Eastport, draws thousands of visitors each year to its tiny museum.

Older homes are packed close to one another on a spit of land jutting into Passamaquoddy Bay. The sun sparkling off the water reflects off the windshields of old cars left on lawns. Weather-worn houses with boarded windows dot the landscape.

There are few public services, since the tribes don't collect local property taxes. To do so would violate spiritual beliefs and cultural practices.

"Only Mother Earth can own the land. We're just caretakers of the land for our children," Soctomah said.

Soctomah is frequently stopped on the reservation by people wanting to tell him about housing problems or the health of family members. During the legislative session, he presents a neat figure in a jacket and string tie decorated by a tribal beadmaker.

On the reservation, he wears T-shirts, such as one advertising the Connecticut casino, Mohegan Sun.

The health of members, and their access to care, is a major concern for leaders of both the Passamaquoddy Tribe and the Penobscot Nation, which is located about two hours away on Indian Island near Old Town. Each reservation has its own clinic with a doctor, dentist and counselors on site.

The average life expectancy on the Passamaquoddy reservations is 48, or one-third lower than the national American average, according to the tribal government. The rate of diabetes on both the Passamaquoddy and Penobscot reservations is four times that of Maine's general population. The reservations are working with the state to determine why rates of cancer and heart disease are also high.

Drug and alcohol abuse is also a problem. The county's high unemployment and poverty, combined with its easy border crossings to Canada, made it one of the first places in the nation where the illegal use of the prescription painkiller OxyContin was noticed.

"Washington County has an epidemic," said Edward Bassett Jr., lieutenant governor on Pleasant Point. "We're affected to the same degree. Just because we're a reservation doesn't mean we're isolated from that."

Bassett believes local jobs might help decrease substance abuse, by providing members with hope for the future.

But even those tribal members who have jobs earn less. The average salary per household on either Passamaquoddy reservation is less than $20,000, tribal leaders say, more than $5,000 less than residents of Washington County earn, according to 1997 U.S. Census estimates. By comparison, residents of Cumberland County make an average of $41,393 a year - the highest in Maine - followed by York County, at $31,288.

Tribal members fear this lack of jobs will contribute to the loss of the culture they are trying hard to preserve. Young members will raise their families elsewhere because they can't make a living where they grew up.

Joseph Sacobasin, 29, grew up on the Indian Township reservation and attended the University of Maine at Orono. He left school when a job opened in the reservation's police department. Friends he grew up with have moved to other states where they can find work year-round.

"There's very few jobs around here. I was pretty lucky to be hired in the police department as quick as I was," he said.

Timber, blueberry crops

Still, there are some opportunities. The Passamaquoddies own 140,000 acres of forestland, and harvest timber. The tribe also owns Northeastern Blueberry Co. and 2,000 acres of blueberry fields.

Another tribal company, Creative Apparel, makes military clothing at five factories throughout the state. The company employs about 350 people.

Tribal members also make baskets, work in factories and mills, serve as guides, and are employed by tribal governments.

The tribe also collects more than $1.5 million annually from its sale of Dragon Cement, but the payments are scheduled to end within the decade.

Penobscot Chief Barry Dana did not give specific figures, but said unemployment among the 560 people who live on Indian Island reservation is "too high." He said its proximity to Bangor, Old Town and Orono means tribal members are less isolated.

Until last year, some of the tribe's 2,300 members worked at Olamon Industries, a tribal-owned manufacturing business that employed about 100 people. The company, which produced audiocassettes and other items made through a plastic-injection process, went out of business.

The Penobscots make money from wood sales and high-stakes bingo games held every six weeks, and are looking into bottling spring water. The tribal government employs many members, Dana said.

But the government is also carrying debt from wastewater treatment and sewage projects.

Passamaquoddy and Penobscot leaders say they often hear comments that the land claims settlement made them rich, or that they squandered the $81.5 million they received. Much of the money was spent reacquiring thousands of acres taken from the tribes, leaders say.

The 1980 act gave the Houlton Band of Maliseets $900,000 to buy 5,000 acres of land. The Passamaquoddies and Penobscots each received $26.8 million for land acquisition and economic development, most of which was spent.

The two tribes also received $13.5 million to be held in trust by the federal government, with the annual interest paid to individual tribal members. Last year's interest payment worked out to about $250 per Passamaquoddy member, Soctomah said. The Penobscot payment worked out to about $400 each, according to Dana.

"If people think you can be rich and wealthy off $400 a year, then, yeah, we're rich and wealthy, I guess," Dana said.

Called 'the new buffalo'

Harald Prins, an anthropologist with Kansas State University who has studied Maine's tribes, said the land claims act helped improve the quality of life on Maine's reservations. Often, the more isolated the tribe, the worse the poverty and hopelessness, he said.

But casinos have allowed many tribes to shake off federal programs and become self-sufficient. "The casino is often compared to and referred to as the new buffalo," he said, referring to the animal that once provided the Plains Indians with food, warmth and clothing, he said.

"For some tribes, the casino is a source of extraordinary profit . . . (but) there are plenty of tribes losing money and facing bankruptcy," Prins said.

Still, casinos remain a popular source of tribal income. The Mashantucket Pequots in Connecticut own what is considered to be the biggest casino in the world, Foxwoods Resort Casino. The resort is one of the state's largest employers, with 11,600 workers. It took in more than $1 billion last year and contributed $195 million to state coffers.

The Mohegan Tribe of Connecticut operates Mohegan Sun Casino, another successful casino and resort. Tribal members are paid five- and six-digit annual stipends.

Other Northeast tribes want in on the action. The Wampanoag Tribe of Gay Head Aquinnah is pushing for a casino in Massachusetts. The Narragansett Tribe wants to build a casino in West Warwick, R.I. Last year, New York approved six additional Native American casinos in the Catskills and the Buffalo and Niagara Falls region.

Maine's tribes estimate their proposal would bring the state as much as $100 million in gaming revenues a year. The tribes would reap $50 million each a year. Soctomah said communities could also receive money to help cover increased public service needs.

But the figures rely heavily on drawing out-of-state gamblers, especially from the Boston area. For that reason, tribal leaders hope to get legislation through the state Legislature before competing casino proposals in other states become a reality and decrease the base of possible customers.

Attorney Tom Tureen, who represented the tribes in the land claims and Calais suits, is working with the tribes on the casino project. Lobbyists Jon Doyle and Severin Beliveau tried this year to build support among legislators for the idea.

A nine-member board of directors would oversee development of the casino. Five of the members will be appointed by the tribes, and three of the other four members were named in March. They are former Gov. Ken Curtis, former York County legislator Neil Rolde, and Maddy Corson, former chairwoman of Guy Gannett Communications. Guy Gannett formerly owned the Portland Press Herald/Maine Sunday Telegram.

The Passamaquoddy and Penobscot tribes face several hurdles before breaking ground.

In addition to getting state approval for gambling, the tribe needs to find a community willing to host a casino. Kittery, the tribes' original top choice, was taken off the list last month after the town adopted a zoning ordinance that bans casinos.

Other communities, including York, Eliot and Wells, are planning nonbinding referendums this spring. Those votes are expected to be unfavorable to the idea of a casino.

Penobscot Chief Barry Dana said many of the southern communities have residents who have spoken out against a casino due to concerns about traffic or crime. But he said he has gotten at least a call a day for weeks from other communities that want a casino.

Residents of communities near the Passamaquoddy reservations in Washington County say they would prefer to see a casino and resort built there.

The Passamaquoddies want eventually to build a smaller resort and casino in Calais independently of the Penobscots and the southern Maine project, Soctomah said. Money from a southern Maine casino could help provide the capital.

"It's always been our goal to have one in Calais. Southern Maine, that's been recently, when we had an economic forecast done," he said.

The tribe is also interested in creating a Washington County Business Development Fund to help create and maintain local businesses, Soctomah said.

Calais voters will take a nonbinding vote on the idea of a Calais casino resort in June, and Calais city councilors are approaching nearby communities asking them to put a similar question on their ballots.

"We support it mostly for economic reasons. We can use the jobs. Not only the jobs it would create, but the offshoot jobs," said Calais Mayor Eric Hinson.

Former Princeton selectwoman Eileen Newman, a bookkeeper at Princeton Variety, said she's tired of seeing empty storefronts, broken bottles and junk cars take over her town's Main Street. She said opponents hundreds of miles away are trying to influence choices made by people barely making ends meet.

"I don't understand why any state government, why anyone, would keep anyone else from operating a business and bettering themselves. That's basically what they're doing to the Penobscots and the Passamaquoddies," she said.

But casino opponents say the rest of the state needs to help Maine's tribes find another way to prosperity.

"It's bad economic development," said Bartlett, the Casinos No! leader. "We think the economic development we need is the kind that has the potential to create wealth for all Maine citizens, not wealth for some and problems for others."

Nor is every tribal member sure a casino is the best way to create new jobs and raise revenue.

Cliff Smith Jr. grew up on the Pleasant Point reservation and owns its only gas station. He likes to play cards, but would prefer to see the tribe back a different type of business.

"I think there are some people who gamble away resources that could be better used elsewhere and, sometimes, people don't know when to stop," he said.

Neptune/Parker said the tribes want what most people want - a chance to earn a living and provide for their families.

"We wouldn't just give people money. People want to work," she said.

Staff Writer Grace Murphy can be contacted at 282-8228 or at:

gmurphy@pressherald.com

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