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Sunday, June 19, 2005
Tribe feels weight of new gambles
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PLEASANT POINT — Before he starts his day as the reservation's housing director, Clayton Cleaves burns a few sage leaves, fans the sweet-smelling smoke with an eagle feather and prays for his tribe. "I send the message across the country: We want to be sovereign. We want to be self-supporting." In its bid to make money and depend less on the U.S. government, the struggling tribe has had some success with blueberry processing and clothes manufacturing. But it is best known for its failed plan to build a casino in southern Maine with the Penobscot Indians. Today, however, Passamaquoddies on this reservation are back with a pair of proposals that could turn around their dwindling fortunes and, some say, change their way of life, for better or for worse. One idea is to allow a $400 million liquefied natural gas terminal on tribal property by Passamaquoddy Bay, generating $8 million a year in fees over the life of the project. The other is to operate a harness racing track with slot machines in the tribe's home of Washington County, with millions in revenue being split among Maine's Indian tribes. Not in recent memory have two proposals of such size and long-term impact generated so much buzz at the same time, tribal members observe. "They don't come along like this - these big projects," said Eddie Bassett, who develops digital maps for the tribe and oversees the community-access TV channel. Their success is not guaranteed. Both must pass muster with the state. Lawmakers have said the racino, for example, should go to statewide referendum. Should Gov. John Baldacci veto that idea, tribal leaders could start a petition drive to get the issue on the ballot. But the proposals have advanced farther than most, prompting comparisons between the two. At Pleasant Point, some favor one idea over the other. Others want both. There are those who care for neither. Disagreement, particularly over an LNG terminal, has grown so bitter that longtime friends, even relatives, have stopped speaking to one another. No matter their stance, tribal members all agree something needs to happen to the local economy - and soon. Unemployment on the reservation is as high as 50 percent, according to some estimates - a problem tied to the poverty and substance abuse that residents say pervade the community. The tribe is also running low on money. Less than $3 million remains from the sale of the Dragon Cement Co. - a chief source of money, said Brian Altvater, a tribal council member. It is used for services such as snow removal and trash pickup which other communities would cover through property taxes, but the tribe does not collect fees on land. "We're going to run out inside of a year and a half," Altvater said. "We need some sort of economic boost now." CONFLICTING OUTLOOKS Pleasant Point, flush with lupine and buttercups after a long, hard winter, is home to some 700 tribal members. People live and work among siblings and friends from as far back as Beatrice Rafferty Elementary School, the reservation's only school. Elders speak the native tongue and murmur prayers to the eagles that soar over the bay. Their grandchildren, who attend high school in neighboring communities, mosh to the music of Korn and Tool. With houses built in clear view of one another, everybody knows everyone else's business, say residents, sounding both exasperated and pleased. "This is home. I love it here," said Annette Newell, after overseeing a beef chili lunch at the housing center for the tribe's senior citizens. "I wouldn't move anywhere else." But for her 28-year-old daughter, who has been jobless since funds ran out last year for her position in the assisted living center, life on the "rez" is much bleaker. "It's pretty bad that I have a bachelor's degree and I can't get a job," said Tanya Brown, who plans to move out if things don't look up. For the tribe, making its own opportunity has become a top priority. In 2003, the Passamaquoddies worked with the Penobscots to try and bring a $650 million casino to Sanford, modeled after Foxwoods in Connecticut. But voters statewide rejected the plan in a November referendum, although they accepted the idea of slot machines at a harness racing track. Hurt and angry, some tribal leaders said racism had obstructed their bid to expand self-sovereignty and self-reliance. But they continued to find other ventures and last year Passamaquoddy leaders decided to partner with Oklahoma-based Quoddy Bay LLC to build an LNG terminal on tribal land. The tribe would lease Gleason Cove, about a mile from the residential area of the reservation. Ships would offload the liquefied cargo there, where it would be converted into gas and delivered by pipe to Boston. But as it turned out, the decision to place the terminal at Gleason Cove was not the tribe's to make. Because the land was part of a parcel annexed from the town of Perry 19 years ago, residents there had veto power over the LNG terminal - and they rejected it in March. The Passamaquoddy Tribal Council in May settled on another site for the terminal, this time on Split Rock, named after a giant orange slab located down the road from tribal housing. Tribal leaders are trying to fast-track the project and get the necessary permits to beat a competing project based in Saint John, New Brunswick. Meanwhile in Augusta, the Passamaquoddy representative to the state Legislature, Frederick Moore, worked the hallways of the State House, asking his peers to support an Indian-run racino Down East. The racino this month received strong support in the Legislature, where both chambers voted in favor of putting the proposal to a statewide referendum. But because the Senate failed to pass the measure by a two-thirds majority, the governor has said he may veto the referendum bill, though he indicated Friday that he was rethinking his stance. Even without the governor's support for a referendum, the proposal is far from dead. The tribes could get the issue on the ballot if they collect enough signatures through a petition drive. DEVELOPMENT VS. TRADITION Those pushing economic development in Washington County, one of the state's poorest regions, see plenty of potential in the proposals. "They would both create jobs and that, of course, is the primary benefit," said Dianne Tilton, executive director of the Sunrise County Economic Council. On the reservation, though, new jobs are not always enough of a selling point. It matters what kind they are. Moore's father, who goes by Fred, is lukewarm on the idea of a racino. The older Moore, 72, supported his family by weaving baskets and hunting deer. He says he is not a gambling man and that an LNG terminal would provide a more honest living. "LNG would be a clean way of life, as opposed to a racino," he said. Bassett, 49, prefers an LNG terminal because he said it would bring more revenue to the reservation. The money, he said, could be used to preserve the tribe and its culture through more language programs, for example. "What is the point if we don't take advantage of these opportunities and keep our people strong?" he asked. Those against an LNG terminal, though, worry about the combustible cargo and the chance of an explosion. These tribal members, who are among the most vocal LNG opponents in the area, say the governor does not want them to have a gambling operation but supports a terminal on the reservation because no other Maine community wants one. For some of them, the project would violate the tribe's tradition of safeguarding the environment. "If you talk to elders, they don't support an LNG because of who we are, our history. The land, the water - we know that's how we survived," said Reggie Stanley, a janitor at the tribal offices. Stanley, who considers a racino just as harmful, has more at stake than other opponents. His trailer is on the proposed LNG terminal site. That he would have to leave his home of two decades to clear the way for construction has unsettled tribal members like Virginia Aymond. "That says to me that the tribe would have the right to kick anybody off and put anything there for money," said Aymond, 52. She says she is more comfortable with the racino proposal because profits would be shared between the tribes, the state and Washington County, and "fair is fair." PUSHING FORWARD Debate over the proposals has stretched 40 miles north near Princeton to the state's other Passamaquoddy reservation, Indian Township. Tribal leaders there have voiced opposition to the LNG terminal, saying that they were not included in the discussions. With so much controversy surrounding the proposals, the older Moore can envision neither going through. "We'll just have to suck our thumb, and face the wind and hope for a better day," Moore said. He holds out hope that an aviation parts manufacturing plant proposed on the reservation will move forward. Altvater continues to brainstorm. He wants to create a mail-order pharmacy program like the one the Penobscot tribe is developing on Indian Island. He thinks the market for low-priced prescription drugs has room for competition, and that the tribe could find a backer easily enough. Since it is federally recognized, the Passamaquoddy Tribe has certain tax exemptions that attract businesses, he said. Despite the uncertainty about the future, and the rift it has caused, Cleaves is confident that his tribe is on the right track toward self-sovereignty. "We may have our own personal small disputes every once in a while," Cleaves said, "but if we just keep going, we're going to hit the nail on the head and drive it home. The only time we lose is when we give up."
Staff writer Mark Peters contributed to this story. Staff Writer Josie Huang can be contacted at 791-6364 or at:
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