Tribes becoming political players with casino cash

By Emily Heffter
Seattle Times staff reporter

	Erv Hoglund
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Mastering the five-second sound bite or learning how to hire a campaign manager is not quite second nature to those attending this week's first candidates class for Indians.

The political workshop in Albuquerque, N.M., promises to teach novices some basics, including what to wear, what to say and especially what not to say to the media.

The class, created at the urging of Washington state representative and Tulalip Tribes leader John McCoy, D-Marysville, is seen as an obvious next step for Indians looking to extend the reach of their growing political influence.

Casino profits and unity already have helped Washington tribes make their voices heard in statewide politics. Now that they have the attention of lawmakers, they're planning to take the next step — fielding their own candidates for public office.

Their arc of political ascendancy can be traced over the past decade, as Washington's wealthiest tribes pumped tens of thousands of dollars into state issues and political campaigns.

In 1992, tribes gave about $80,000 to state lawmakers, up from almost zero two years earlier. By 2002, they nearly doubled what they gave a decade earlier — more than $142,000, state campaign records show. The majority went to Democratic candidates.

And that wasn't all: The tribes spent more than $700,000 last year on lobbying, mainly on contested gaming and environmental legislation.

In contrast, Boeing gave a total of $66,925 in individual contributions last year and spent about $684,000 on lobbying, while timber giant Weyerhaeuser spent $481,538 on lobbying.

"Campaign contributions is only a part of it," said Ron Allen, chairman of the Jamestown S'Klallam Tribe and a former president of the National Congress of American Indians. "Over time, we have become more astute at playing the political game."

Casinos bring in the cash

This year, the tribes joined forces with an unusual ally — gambling foes — to stop a proposed measure allowing electronic slot machines in nontribal casinos. The bill never made it to the floor for a vote.

Even the tribes' main opponent was impressed.

The tribes showed a competence and professionalism throughout the legislative session, said Lincoln Ferris, a lobbyist who worked last session for the group pushing for expansion.

Proponents of expanding gambling hired Ferris at $20,000 a month and created the Entertainment Industry Coalition, a group of bowling alley, bar, bingo hall and card-room operators. The group reported about $50,000 in direct lobbying expenses in 2002, but raised upwards of $700,000 to spend on grass-roots organizing, contributions and mailers supporting the measure, Ferris said.

Ferris believed the coalition had the votes in the House to pass the measure, but the tribes kept it bottled up in committee.

"That's, I think, an indication of their ability to talk to key Democrats within the caucus and make it a very divisive issue within the caucus," Ferris said.

For tribes, blocking the measure was key to their long-term financial success. The state signed agreements in 1991 to allow Las Vegas-style casinos on reservations only. Of 29 tribes federally recognized in Washington, 27 have agreements with the state to generate gambling revenue. Seventeen built casinos, and many small or remote tribes without casinos lease their state allotment of gambling machines to other tribes.

The result for some tribes — particularly those near freeways — has been sudden, vast wealth. The casino cash flow has allowed them to improve social services for their members and given them a nest egg to develop other businesses and pursue political ambitions.

Most of the money flowing into state politics comes from tribes west of the Cascades — the Tulalips, Muckleshoots and Puyallups — that operate casinos near urban areas.

Tribes won't say how much money the casinos bring in, but internal Tulalip Tribes documents show their casino revenue has increased by about 30 percent every year since 1998, and that they expect their new, 227,000-square-foot casino to gross $161 million this year.

The Muckleshoot Tribe, which owns the second-largest and most-profitable Indian casino in the state, opened a $30 million outdoor concert amphitheater this summer and bought the land that Emerald Downs racetrack sits on earlier this year.

As casinos have netted millions for tribes across the country, the tribes have responded by writing big checks to campaigns.

California Lt. Gov. Cruz Bustamante used a loophole in campaign-finance law to circumvent the state's contribution limit and took in more than $2 million from tribes during the recent recall campaign.

"... This is a very, very American way to spend your money," said Cate Stetson, who owns Albuquerque-based tribal lobbying firm Legi/X. "It's what Americans have taught tribes to do."

Tribes seen as 'a force'

It was his fellow Indians who helped McCoy, of the Tulalip Tribes, win a state House seat last year.

McCoy said he couldn't have made it through the primary without support from Indians all over the country. When he approached Democratic groups to ask for money for his primary race, he said they told him he was on his own against opponents Dylan Malone and Randall Riker.

"So I went to my friends in Indian Country, and they came through," he said. "I needed Indian Country friends to get me through the primary, and I spent every penny."

McCoy raised more than $10,000 from in-state tribes as well as tribes as far away as Nebraska and Florida. Mainly non-Indian donations funded his general election win.

McCoy urged the National Congress of American Indians to host this week's candidate class. It's the first time such an event has been offered at the congress' annual gathering, now in its 60th year; more than 3,000 Native American and Alaska Native leaders are expected to attend.

Just a decade ago, Indians held little influence in state politics. Tribes were dealing with social problems of their own — poverty, substance abuse, unemployment. With the exception of the occasional natural-resource issue, tribes focused on the federal government if they did any lobbying.

"Since I first arrived in the Legislature ... (tribes) have gone from what I see as zero visibility to at least adequate to good on a number of issues," said Sen. Margarita Prentice, D-Renton.

Although some racism — or at least ignorance — persists among legislators, Prentice said, many legislators now see it as more efficient to listen to tribes on the front end of legislation, rather than pass laws and let the tribes sue.

"The tribes are now a force," she said. "And the other thing is, the tribes are smart. How do you think they've survived all these years?"

Non-Indian candidates also are learning that they should take note of tribal interests "if they want to win," according to Steve Robinson, a non-Indian and policy analyst with the Northwest Indian Fisheries Commission.

"The tribes are fully intent on making sure that candidates ... are fully cognizant of (their) rights, and that they're respectful of them."

The tribes point to U.S. Sen. Maria Cantwell's narrow win over Slade Gorton in 2000 as their first major victory in statewide politics.

Tribes perceived Gorton as "anti-Indian," Robinson said, and campaigned hard against him. During his tenure in Congress, Gorton questioned Indian sovereignty and tried to make a controversial cut to the Bureau of Indian Affairs budget. They take partial credit for Cantwell's win, mostly through a massive get-out-the-vote campaign.

"A lot of tribes don't have any money, so the only thing they've got is votes," McCoy said. "We have now shown we can mobilize our vote."

Stetson's lobbying firm celebrated Cantwell's win that year, she said. At every tribal convention that year, Stetson said, "there were (anti-) Slade Gorton buttons everywhere.

"The hatred for Slade Gorton was comprehensive, profound and activating, and there was no greater enemy in the eyes of most tribes than Slade Gorton."

Gorton declined to comment for this story.

Too powerful?

Despite their growing influence, tribes have still suffered plenty of losses in Olympia.

McCoy sponsored a bill to allow his tribe to collect a portion of the state sales tax — as cities do — from the Wal-Mart, Home Depot and other stores on the Tulalip Reservation. The bill did not make it to the floor for a vote. Another bill that would have given tribal police power over non-natives on reservations also failed.

Tribes tangled last session with Gov. Gary Locke on several water bills — and lost.

The bills included Senate Bill 5028, which stops the Department of Ecology from using water-quality law to restrict the amount of water jurisdictions can take, and the Municipal Water Bill, which gave more water rights to municipalities to accommodate their future growth.

Allen is behind an effort to give tribes a louder voice in state politics. He wants to see a joint House-Senate committee that would review every piece of legislation that might affect tribes. The state Legislature considered a bill four years ago that would have established such a committee, but it didn't pass and the issue hasn't formally resurfaced.

Why should tribes get special consideration? Allen uses the same argument that some tribal members used in the early 1990s as a reason tribes should stay out of state government: As sovereign nations, "We have equal standing with the state."

Perhaps no one knows better the clout that can be brought to bear by tribes than McCoy's opponent in last year's 38th District race for the House.

Less than a week before the election, Erv Hoglund and the local Republican Party affiliation sent out fliers that questioned whether McCoy had a conflict of interest because he is a Tulalip and a longtime lobbyist for the tribe.

In a swift response the next day on the Snohomish County Courthouse lawn, Locke in an impromptu press conference blasted the fliers as "blatant racist ads."

Hoglund said that cost him the election.

"It was a good political event — I mean, for them," he said.

Hoglund said he supports legislation to ease gambling rules off reservations because he believes tribes have got too much money and, as a result, too much power in state politics.

"It's going to play a very important and severe impact on politics in our state," he said. "Money will bring influence and ... sadly, politics has been sort of a big-money game."

Emily Heffter: 425-783-0624 or eheffter@seattletimes.com

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