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About Eugene weekly. (Eugene, Oregon) 1993-current | View Entire Issue (June 24, 2004)
restaurant. She smoothes the long ‘As a braid that falls down her back and gazes south down teacher you Highway 101, the high- way that intersects 126 see the hardships on its way through Florence. of a kid in a normal These days, in Florence, hers aren’t life, all the other addi- the only eyes look- ctions out there. It’s like ing southward. Fifty miles down the coast — out of sight it cannibalizes people, but not out of mind what the gambling — lies a glimpse of what the future could addictions do.’ hold. In the town of Coos Bay, at the intersection of the highway and the road lead- ing to the beach, there’s a green sign rimmed with gold glitter. This sign announces the Mill Casino, which is owned and operated by the Coquille Indian Tribe. Frantic messages (“MICHAEL WON $8,500!!”) roll onto its screen and flash twice before melting into new ones. “AMY WON $3,800!!” The sign’s frenzied activity is mirrored inside. At every other slot machine a player perches precariously on a stool and leans, rapt, into the screen. It’s 11 o’clock on a Saturday morning and throughout the casino, whether they’re playing the slots or standing in line at the Cook Shack or the General Store, people have the jittery, pretend-casual look that says they’re spending money they don’t have. At the same time, behind the scenes, there are people with jobs: Waiters and managers and janitors and head chefs. This, in Coos County, which has historically been one of the most economically depressed counties in Oregon. The tribally run — Susie Dewberry Coquille Economic Development Corporation, which oper- ates the Mill Casino along with other concerns as diverse as cranberry bogs and high-speed Internet, has become the sec- ond-largest employer in the county. And a percentage of the profits from the casino are donated to local causes such as Oregon Food Share, which provides food for poverty-strick- en families. Elsewhere in Oregon, the Siletz tribe has used a portion of its casino profits to donate land for a new high school, and the Siletz are also the largest employer in their county. Eagle (now Justin) plays a guessing game over the soup that’s served as an afternoon snack. “I’m thinking of a person with yellow hair and yellow skin,” he says, as he perches on a tiny blue plastic chair. He’s talking about Sue Harper, known to the kids as Teacher Sue. The European- American, non-tribal wife of a tribal mem- ber, Harper is sitting across from him. Then: “I’m thinking of a per- son with black hair and brown ears,” comes his lively Susie Dewberry voice. This time he’s talking about Ariana, who pulls her miniature chair back from the table, crosses her arms across her chest, and looks around with big, sorrowful eyes. “He called me brown,” she says. Eagle hasn’t meant to hurt Ariana; he has his own shade of soft brown skin. What’s clear is that it’s not easy to be a kid caught in the middle of a controversy in these small Oregon coastal communities — and brown skin has become very vis- ible these days. Will the casino be worth it? The tribes hope so, and thoughts of their children’s future are very present in their minds. Says Somday: “My hope is that the Three Rivers Casino will provide a sense of pride for a group of people who’ve been historically mistreated. A sense of accomplish- ment, and the ability to provide for themselves and for gener- ations to come.” ew B ack in Florence, the two signs staked at each side of the highway say it all: This is a community at a cross- roads, a community divided by its hopes for the future. But concerns for the future of this small town take second place to the rights granted by Oregon law to its citizens. At least for now, the law seems to stand firmly on the side of the Confederated Tribes’ right to build a casino on this land; PACT’s last lawsuit was thrown out of the Oregon Supreme Court. Still, says PACT’s Dewberry, the fight is not over. “We’re really confident that once it gets heard, we will win.” As the battle wages on, the smallest citizens of these coastal communities are caught in a crossfire not of their own choosing. “We were just making the kids realize that it was OK to be Indian” before the controversy got so heated, says Siuslaw tribal member Jill Barrett. Barrett’s concerns are echoed by others: “Even non-Indian kids are very affected by some of the things they start hearing said,” says Somday. “We’re expe- riencing, from younger tribal members, questions like, ‘Why are they saying these things? We’re friends, we play togeth- er.’” At the Learning Center, Eagle has decided he wants to be called “Justin.” One teacher speculates that it may be because other kids are teasing him for being Indian. Another little boy doesn’t want to be picked up at school in the big maroon Learning Center van because he’s been teased about it. ‘My hope is that the Three Rivers Casino will provide a sense of pride for a group of people who’ve been historically mistreated. A sense of accomplishment, and the ability to provide for themselves and for generations to come.’ — Francis Somday Raising the Standard in Aesthetics • Skin Care including Ultrasonic Facial (a topical alternative to Botox) Cleansing, Acne, Anti-Aging • Waxing • Makeup • Permanent Cosmetics Call 334-7789 Services by students are discounted! 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