Posted on 06/28/2003 9:18:07 PM PDT by chance33_98
Most casino Indian tribes not high on charity; less on state
"WHEN wildfires decimated the northern Arizona lands of the White Mountain Apache Indians last year, the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians kicked in a cool million dollars to help out their fellow Native Americans.
That move attracted national attention to the San Manuels, operator of a San Bernardino-area gaming house, in part because it was so unusual. Three other casino tribes from other states also made headlines last year giving $10 million each to kick-start construction of a national Indian museum to be run by the Smithsonian Institution.
But those outbursts of generosity to their fellow Indians stand in stark contrast to what is commonplace in California today: Tribes being as reluctant to donate much of their estimated $5 billion annual gambling profits to other Native Americans as they are to help pull the state out of its current, severe budget crunch.
It's hard to find any organization that does more than the Albuquerque-based Catching the Dream to advance the future for the 95 percent of Indians who get no direct benefits from the growing spate of casinos.
But a look at the organization's donor list is revealing. The San Manuels kicked in $5,000 last year to help fund the 220 college scholarships Catching the Dream gave out to the cream of Indian students. The Morongo Band of Mission Indians, which operates 2,000 slot machines and other games in a large casino at Cabazon in Riverside County, coughed up $1,000. The Viejas band, operator of a big San Diego casino, contributed $5,000 and the nearby Barona Band of Mission Indians gave $500.
But the Chumash tribe, operator of 2,000 slots near Santa Barbara, gave nothing. Neither did the Pechanga Band of Luiseno Mission Indians, with a big Riverside County casino, nor the ultra-wealthy Agua Caliente Band of Cahuilla Indians, who not only run two large casinos, but also own most of the land beneath downtown Palm Springs and two lush nearby canyons that are popular tourist attractions.
"These tribes are under a lot of pressure in their local communities,' said Dean Chavers, head of Catching the Dream. "But we do get support from 47 percent of all gaming tribes with 1,000 or more slot machines. Even Jesus couldn't get 100 percent support.' But far less than 47 percent of California's big casino operators contribute.
It's true that some tribes have set up scholarship programs for their own members. But the casino tribes are small and some dirt-poor tribes with reservations far from large cities or major highways are large.
As tight-fisted as the California gaming tribes often act toward fellow Indians, that's just how they're acting toward the state in its time of need. The notion of taking about 20 percent of the California casinos' annual net winnings to help solve the budget crunch is "a ludicrous proposition,' Mark Macarro, the Pechanga tribal chairman, told a reporter.
Meanwhile, the California tribes were "millions of dollars' short this spring in filling their contractual obligations to contribute to a state-run fund which uses a small share of Indian gaming money to offset local environmental and traffic impacts of casinos and doles out other cash to tribes with no gambling money of their own.
The thus-far-toothless California Gambling Control Commission reported to state Senate President Pro Tem John Burton during the spring that even though the fund had taken in $88 million (less than 2 percent of gaming profits statewide), many tribes had not put any money in for six months or more.
Yes, many tribes feel pressure not to contribute either to the state's tax coffers or to their fellow Indians. They get internal pressure from members who prefer that profits be parceled out to them and many tribes in fact divvy up their winnings on a per capita basis. Others build health clinics and schools for members or invest in nongambling businesses from bowling alleys to car washes.
But it's the spirit of all this that's telling. Nationally, casino tribes took in $12.7 billion last year and contributed about $70 million to charity, according to a spokeswoman for the National Indian Gaming association. That would be a contribution rate well under 1 percent, if it's accurate and some Indian spokesmen dispute the figure.
The bottom line: Some tribes like the Sacramento-area Rumsey Band of Wintun Indians, which has a unique "community fund' to donate to large charities and will give away about $2 million this year have been very generous at times. But most donate less to others than the average large for-profit corporation.
And they are even less willing to kick in to bail state and local governments out of their budget mess than they are to help their fellow Indians. Which explains the rough time Davis has had trying to extract new cash from the tribes.
Thomas Elias is an author and freelance writer. E-mail him at tdelias@aol.com .
However, if Mr. Elias identified any reasons why the tribes should make a gift to Gray Davis and his cronies, I failed to spot them.
If it is so necessary that California receive charity in order to survive the mess its officials have made of the state's finances, why doesn't Mr. Elias write them a check? Say, take his own state income tax...and send in a check for twice the amount.
I lived on the Pechanga Reservation for a while in the '70s and from what I saw nobody gave 2 shits for the Indians back then. I hope they all tell the State government to pound sand.
My oldest son and daughter are 1/2 Indian, registered at the Mesa Grande Reservation near Palomar. The tribe voted 2 weeks ago to open a casino in Orange County. Not only are my kids good looking, they're now extremely wealthy!
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