ABOVE: Sixty-eight slot machines pack the Ohiya Casino, which was a cafe
before being remodeled. RIGHT: Clarence Campbell Sr. keeps an eye on things
in the casino. Campbell was working in Yankton, S.D., when the casino opened.
Photos by Scott Bnihn
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Santee
Continued from Page 1
the casino are an example of what he
calls “a recurring history lesson.”
“People say we’re like a third-world
nation here, and the government wants to
keep us like that,” he said. “It’s about
control, controlling us, our jobs, our lives.
I hate to say it, but that’s what it is.”
Campbell takes out a cigarette and
lights it, taking a short puff as he glances
over at the door. An elderly couple
walks in and makes their way over to the
cashier’s window to make change.
“It’s time for this,” he said. “Time for
jobs, time for mobility. We need this.”
A Tale of Two Cities
It’s late afternoon at the casino, and
Richard Thomas is stopping by to see
how things are going.
The Santee tribal councilman drives
down Spur 54D from Highwayfl 2. It is
the only paved road into Santee.
He turns left at a sign marked with a
colorful Pepsi logo that says “Riverside
Cafe.” It takes him a second to find a
parking spot among the more than two
dozen cars in the gravel lot.
The two bulldozers that had been
used to block the entrances a few days
ago to stop a federal raid sit idly in a
comer of the lot. ;
“We’re not going to shut down,”
Thomas said. “There’s nothing they (the
state) can do to shut us down. The feds
aren’t going to do anything and the
governor isn’t going to do anything.”
Simple defiance is an attitude differ
ent from some the Santee have dis
played in the past few weeks. Since U.S.
Attorney Tom Monaghan seized the
casino’s profits on April 16, anger has
been more common.
Tribal Chairman Arthur “Butch”
Denny had even said he knew someone
who was buying a gun to protect the
Santee’s “investment.”
But Thomas said that was an isolated
case. The Santee aren’t goingto give up,
he said, but there’s not going to be a war
over the casino.
“This is the first time the state has
really had to deal with a tribe,” he said.
“That’s the problem, in their eyes. It’s
the first time they’ve had to deal with
tribal sovereignty.”
The conflict between the tribe and
the state focuses on the interpretation of
the 1988 Indian Gaming Regulatory Act.
Because the casino is on reservation
land, the Santee say it is their right to
operate any form of class III, or Las Vc
gas-style, gambling.
Thomas even contends that the slot
machines are only class II machines, ran
domly generating numbers to determine a
winner like any legal pickle-card machine.
Thomas’ argument is moot, however,
as the casino is building an 800-squarc
foot addition that will house blackjack,
poker and roulette —all class III games.
The state contends that while the act
allows gaming on reservation land, it
requires the tribe to form a compact with
the reservation’s home state.
The Santee have no such compact.
Talks between the tribe and Gov.
Ben Nelson before the casino’s Feb. 2
opening were going nownere, mourns
said. The Santee opened the casino any
way, and the last three months of legal
squabbles ensued.
Nebraska Attorney General Don
Stenberg said in a written statement that
the casino was illegal, no matter where
it was located.
But Santee, the tribal council con
tends, is not just another Nebraska town.
Thomas and other Santee officials
have said Stenberg’s actions are the
result of election-year politics.
Nelson, who is against expanded
gambl ing in Nebraska, has promised the
situation will be brought to a resolution.
“The federal government has told the
tribe they need to close the casino and I
think this (request) is the appropriate
approach,” Nelson said April 22.
Thomas called the comments by the
governor and the attorney general an
attempt to threaten the tribe.
“It’s a hot potato,” Thomas said, “and
that’s what the district attorney’s office
has told us. They’re saying, ‘This is a hot
potato, and we don’t know exactly how to
deal with it.’”
Also complicating matters is the fed
eral courts’ long history of conflicting
decisions on reservation gambling. A de
cision by the U.S. Supreme Court in March
ruled Congress cannot expose states to
federal lawsuits when negotiations over
casinos break down. -
The ruling placed both the state and
federal governments in a temporary le
gal limbo over the Ohiya Casino, while
buying the Santee time to plan.
There are now more than 30 reserva
tion casinos operating without state ap
proval across the nation. Only one has
been ordered to shut down by the Na
tional Indian Gaming Commission, the
federal agency responsible for reserva
tion gaming matters.
Thomas said a federal request for the
casino to shut down, issued earlier this
week by the commission, would prob
ably not have any real effect on the
casino’s status.
“They may ask us to shut down, but
we won’t shut down,” he said. “This
place is too important for us now.
“When you back people against the
wall, after a while, they aren’t going to
take it any more,” he said. “We’ve got a
lot of people here who are getting sick of
being pushed against the wall, and
they’ire going to want to push back.”
Such bravado may be false by Friday
afternoon, though, as the tribal council
will try to decide how to respond to the
gaming commission’s order.
The casino will soon be the only
major source of employment on the res
ervation. The Becton-Dickinson phar
maceutical plant, nine miles away at the
Highway 12-Spur 54D junction, is
scheduled to close June 30, taking 23
jobs with it.
The construction of a bridge to nearby
Springfield, S.D., began on April 20,
but it is more than 10 miles from Santee,
too far for many of the unemployed
residents to walk.
But Thomas has a bright outlook for
the village’s future.
The tribal council has discussed pur
chasing the plant after it closes and mov
ing the casino there. The available floor
space would more than triple, he said, and
hopefully so would the number of jobs.
“We’ve got 16 people now, security,
floor walkers, cage and two cooks,” he
said. “If we moved to BD, we’d have to
hire a lot more people just to cover the
floor.”
Thomas said he was sure the casino
would remain open.
“Some people have called us ‘The
Warrior Casino in Indian Country,”’ he
said. “They’re the ones who know how
desperate of a situation we’re in, and
they realize we’re not going to give up.”
Homeward bound
Merle Saul hasn’t been home in six
months.
Like so many other Santee, Saul left
the reservation years ago to find work.
He has lived in Omaha and Lincoln,
moving from job to job, since 1983. He
visits the reservation whenever he gets the
chance, but doesn’t get back too often.
But as he nears the village from the
east side, he automatically knows where
to find who he’s looking for.
“When I left, this place was still a
cafe,” he said. “I really don’t know what
to expect.”
The drive through Santee is pleasant
enough. The grass is neatly kept, the houses
are in good condition and children can be
seen playing down by the Missouri River,
less than 100 feet from the road.
It takes less than three minutes to
unveirom me eastern enu ox town xuuic
western end, where a small building
with a wooden sign reading “Ohiya Ca
sino” is nestled along the street.
It is quiet outside, until he opens the
door to the sounds of the slots. He smiles
whenheseesafamiliarface—hissister’s.
Saul’s sister, Beulah Saul, is a cook
for the casino. She looks out from the
kitchen when Merle walks in, smiles
and says hello, and returns to work.
“I get three days off a week,” she
said, “but when I’m here, I work from
open to almost closing time.”
Tonight, for instance, she will be
here until after midnight. She has been
here since 9 a.m.
“You get tired,” she said. “After a
while, you start to hear these machines
in your sleep.”
But like the rest of the Santee em
ployed here, she’s glad to even have a job.
Merle Saul walks overfrom where he’s
been talking and tells Beulah he’s leaving
to see some other friends and relatives.
She smiles and nods, jokingly telling him
to be back before it gets dark out.
Later, some time after 10 p.m., Beulah
Saul steps out of the kitchen and lights
up a cigarette. She sits down as Merle
Saul comes back in the door, smiling.
He sits down next to his sister and
eats a cheeseburger she’s prepared for
him. He tells her he has to go soon.
“Do you work tomorrow?” he asks.
With a weary smile, she gives her
reply.
“Yeah, I sure do.”
