"People can argue about the negative effects of casinos," said Judy Dworkin, an adjunct law professor at Arizona State University, "but [casinos] are the one thing that Indians have been able to use to raise money and pull themselves out of economic depression."
photos by Monica Alonzo
Lorraine Marquez Eiler stands over the remnants of a grill in what was the old Gila Bend Indian Reservation. Repeated flooding forced tribal members from their land and carried away crosses from their cemetery.
Related Content
More About
The Department of the Interior's Bureau of Indian Affairs has been reviewing the tribe's application to make its West Valley property part of the Tohono O'odham Nation for more than a year.
Tired of waiting, the tribe sued the BIA on March 22 in an attempt to compel the feds to quit stalling.
As the Nation tries to force Washington to make a decision, state and local officials have rounded up local politicians and business leaders to put pressure on a federal decision-maker to turn down the tribe's request, filed in January 2009.
Tribal Chairman Norris can't understand what's taking so long, since both the BIA Western Regional Office in Phoenix and the Department of Interior's Office of Indian Gaming in Washington have decreed that putting the 134 acres of tribal-replacement land into trust is "mandated" by the Gila Bend Indian Reservation Land Replacement Act.
But whether that actually happens, and whether the area is approved for gaming, rests solely with Assistant Secretary of Indian Affairs Larry Echo Hawk.
Several Valley and state officials have sent letters opposing the casino, says Paula Hart, acting director of the Office of Indian Gaming. In her responses to them, Hart emphasizes that federal law allowing the Tohono O'odham to replace land that it lost to the flooding is "clear and unambiguous."
One opposition letter was from Phoenix Mayor Phil Gordon, who wrote that when voters approved Prop 202 (allowing gaming to continue on Indian reservations), they "were told there would be no increase in the number of casinos in the Phoenix area and that [casinos] would be limited to current reservation lands."
But Hart said the mayor's assessment is wrong. She wrote to Gordon that, to the contrary, the 2002 compact, signed by both the tribe and the state, "specifically allows gaming on lands acquired by [tribes] after 1988," as long as they are in compliance with federal gaming laws.
The Tohono O'odham note in the tribe's lawsuit against the BIA that such notable Arizona politicians as Goldwater, McCain, Dennis DiConcini, and Mo Udall signed the Gila Bend Indian Reservation Lands Replacement Act to give the tribe the right to turn its West Valley land into reservation.
In giving the tribe that right, the law specifies that the property be "suitable for sustained economic . . . self-sufficiency." And what better than a casino to make money for the tribe, because some of its revenue would improve poor living conditions in San Lucy?
There are 23 casinos in Arizona that have peacefully coexisted with each other and with surrounding communities, including schools and neighborhoods. The Fort McDowell Casino is about three miles from Fountain Hills. And the Tohono O'odham's Desert Diamond Casino is across the street from a church in Tucson.
But the Gila River Indian Community is no longer willing to coexist with the Tohono O'odham, gaming-wise, unless it abandons its West Valley plan.
The Gila community is launching radio spots that will depict the Tohono O'odham Nation as greedy for planning to build the West Valley Resort.
And, of course, Glendale is continuing its full-force opposition of the casino project — both with its campaign to harangue the BIA and by filing legal objections.
Undeterred, Chairman Norris is pushing ahead defiantly:
"We are standing strong. For us, this is a matter of protecting the rights and sovereignty of the Tohono O'odham Nation. We're not going to go away because someone is concerned about having an Indian reservation in their backyard."