Treaties

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The Flandreau Santee Sioux Tribe shared in the nearly $5 million claims award, for which Congress in 1985 (P. L. 99-130) provided distribution guidelines. Their share was 15.84%, or a little more than $770,900. According to the guidelines, 75 percent of the funds would be used by the tribal governing body "for programs to enhance the social and economic development of the tribe." The remaining 25 percent would be used for per capita payments, with members sixty years of age and older receiving twice as much as other recipients. 31

These various sources of income have enabled the tribe and its individual members to accomplish many things that would have been impossible at an earlier time. Among the benefits to individuals are greater educational opportunities than were enjoyed in the 1960s. According to tribal officials, the average number of years of school is now 13.5--which must surely be one of the highest among Indian groups in the country. Few young people attend the Flandreau Indian School; upon completion of the local high school, collegebound young people go to a wide variety of colleges, not all in the Midwest. 32

Although the effort to preserve the native culture is not so conspicuous as on the Lake Traverse Reservation, it is very much a part of contemporary life among the Flandreau people. The "Siouxtennial" presented in 1962 and again in 1965 has been continued ever since and still takes place at the old site along the Big Sioux River, though the old community building no longer stands. At least symbolically, it reflects the desire of the Flandreau Santees to retain their traditions even as they participate ever more fully in the larger community.

The changes evident at Santee, Lake Traverse, and Devils Lake, and even more noticeable at Flandreau, are most striking of all on the Sioux reservations in Minnesota, especially at Prior Lake, now called the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community. The radical transformation of these settlements from pockets of poverty to enclaves of affluence has occurred largely since 1982, when the first Indian gaming enterprise in the state began at Shakopee, but intimations of coming change could be discerned earlier.

In 1967 the Prior take community consisted of four or five scattered families, administered as part of the Lower Sioux community, which had itself dwindled to only nineteen families, with nine vacant houses on the reservation. But that year saw the beginnings of a housing project on Prairie Island that not only provided better

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homes for current residents but attracted other members of the tribe then living in the Twin Cities or elsewhere. With the start of construction on a nuclear-powered electric generating plant by Northern States Power Company (NSP) on the island, it looked as though there might be increased employment close to the reservation. Two years later the Prior Lake community separated from Lower Sioux and formed its own tribal organization. Although membership consisted of all those on the tribal rolls and their descendants, actual control of the reservation was vested in the "general council," made up of all voters who were residents of the community--only a few families to begin with--which in turn delegated its authority to a business council consisting of a chairman, vicechairman, and secretary-treasurer. 33

No major changes took place during the 1970s, though a number of events occurred then that were to acquire significance later. The Shakopee Mdewakanton and Prairie Island communities became part of the cities of Prior Lake and Red Wing, respectively, when those cities annexed the formerly rural townships in which the reservations were located. At Prior Lake the annexation was part of the urban growth that saw the city increase from 848 inhabitants in 1960 to, 11,482 in 1990. Red Wing annexed Burnside Township in order to increase municipal revenues by taxing NSP's generating plant. In 1971 the Minnesota Sioux communities formed an umbrella organization that underwent various changes of name and membership before it was dissolved in 1984, the members having concluded by then that their interests would be better served by resuming their separate status. 34

The communities continued, however, to participate in the Minnesota Dakota Housing Authority, which administered state and federal housing programs. In 1976 the state legislature established the Minnesota Housing Finance Agency, thereby making Minnesota "the first state in the nation to recognize and assist with the housing needs of Indians through a program operated by Indians," as Indians in Minnesota expressed it. Over the next decade the Sioux communities received forty-one loans for home ownership and home improvement through this program. 35

Perhaps the most important development of the 1970s was that the four Sioux communities all grew in population. Determining the populations is difficult because different agencies provide different figures. The Census Bureau, which counted only Indians on census tracts with land held in trust, credited Prairie Island with 80 inhabi-

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tants in 1980. On the other hand, the BIA, which counted those living near reservations as well as those living on trust lands, found 118 at Prairie Island. But the Indian Health Service, which counted Indians in reservation counties and abutting counties, came up with a figure of 222! 36

Since the BIA figures for 1960 were used elsewhere in this book, they will be used here for comparative purposes. In 1960 the BIA found 160 Indians at Lower Sioux, 95 at Prairie Island, 10 at Prior Lake, and 120 at Upper Sioux. Comparable figures for 1980 gave Lower Sioux 202 inhabitants, Prairie Island 118, Shakopee Mdewakanton 116, and Upper Sioux 122. 37 Except at Upper Sioux, which had benefited very little from government programs in the 1960s and 1970s, the increase was considerable--indeed, at Shakopee Mdewakanton, spectacular. This growth was to continue, and even accelerate, in the 1980s, when the bonanza of bingo parlors attracted to the reservations tribal members who had lived elsewhere, perhaps for most of their lives.

A few signs of improvement became evident before the bingo bonanza got under way in the 1980s. At Prairie Island, for example, relations with the city of Red Wing improved when the city contributed to replacing the community hall, burned one New Year's Eve. Originally the city budgeted $40,000 toward the project, but when a HUD grant of $114,000 became available, the city's share was reduced to $24,760, plus $10,000 for furnishings. Construction began in June 1978 and was completed eleven months later; the building was dedicated the following October 20. 38

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Two claims cases that were settled during this period brought some improvement in the finances of individual tribal members. In June 1981 payment was received, amounting in some cases to as much as $2,500 each (referred to in the headline to a newspaper article as "a paltry windfall for some Indians"), which went mostly for furniture, appliances, and car replacement or repair; some recipients paid off debts, while others deposited their checks in savings accounts. Norman Campbell, then president of the tribal council, urged his tribesmen to use the "windfall" wisely. 39

The other claims case was that previously referred to, in connection with the Flandreau community, for which funds were appropriated by Congress in October 1985. The Prairie Island, Shakopee Mdewakanton, and Lower Sioux communities were collectively to receive 25.47 percent of the award. At the time these groups voted to accept the settlement, in May 1983, it was said that the amount to be

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received would come to less than $566 per person. It was distributed along the lines specified in the legislation: 20 percent for tribal programs, 80 percent in per capita payments, handled variously by the three communities. 40

As indicated by the population figures given earlier, the Shakopee Mdewakanton community was experiencing a period of rapid growth, as enrolled members moved to the reservation. In order to provide housing for these people, about half of the largest tract of tribal land, 159 acres, was withdrawn from the family to whom it had been assigned, and divided into smaller parcels. Before long, attractive houses were built on these lots, which now constitute the principal population center of the reservation. 41

But the big news from the early 1980s was the arrival of commercial gaming on Indian reservations. Preceded by "smoke shops" at which untaxed cigarettes were sold to tribal members, this innovation was made possible by Supreme Court decisions denying to state and local governments civil jurisdiction, including taxing authority, over reservation lands. A 1976 agreement with the state had required that Indian tobacco merchants collect sales tax, part of which would be returned by the state. But in the light of federal court rulings that people living on reservations need not pay state sales or income taxes (later extended to cigarette and liquor taxes), the Shakopee Mdewakanton community opened a smoke shop, from which they hoped to earn $50,000 a year for badly needed tribal programs. Although state officials feared that the practice would spread to other Indian reservations, depriving the state of considerable revenue, tribal chairman Norman M. Crooks proved correct in his prediction that its nearness to the Twin Cities gave Shakopee Mdewakanton a unique status and that other reservations would realize more income from state reimbursement than from the sale of taxfree cigarettes. 42

But the smoke shop was only small potatoes compared to the bingo hall that came under serious discussion early in 1982. A precedent had been set in Florida, where the Seminole Indians were operating three bingo parlors, the first opened in 1979. When county and state officials tried to bring these enterprises under their control, the Seminoles took the matter to court and eventually won from the United States Supreme Court a ruling that such governments had no authority to regulate gaming on Indian reservations. Chairman Crooks had been to Florida, as had BIA Area Director Earl J. Barlow, and had been impressed by the way money was flowing into

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the tribe's coffers. Crooks approached Barlow with a proposal to borrow money for a 1,200-seat bingo palace on the Shakopee Mdewakanton Reservation. As Barlow tells it, he at first tried to bring Crooks' schemes down to earth. "Be realistic!" he says he told Crooks; "300 or 400 maybe, but not 1,200." The chairman, however, stuck with his plan for a 1,200-seat hall, and eventually Barlow had to acknowledge that it might be feasible. 43

The tribe borrowed about $1 million and in the summer of 1982 began construction of a prefabricated structure to house the first of what were to be many gaming establishments on Minnesota Indian reservations. Almost at once opposition surfaced in the form of objections from the city of Prior Lake, whose officials were concerned about the amount of sewage the facility would produce, the increase in traffic on the local gravel roads, and the need for police protection in view of the anticipated influx of potential gamblers. The dispute, which at one stage involved the Metropolitan Council, was temporarily settled by an agreement under which the tribe would contract with the Scott County sheriff for police protection and with Prior Lake for fire protection and rescue service; the Indians would provide a field septic system and work with the county to control dust on the road. 44

In its original form, what became the Little Six Bingo Palace was built and operated by a consortium of two firms, the New England Entertainment Company, based in Boston, which was running one of the parlors in Florida, and the Pan American International Management Company. Under the contract negotiated by Crooks, the company was to receive 45 percent of the profits, the tribe 55 percent. When the facility opened for business on October 16, Crooks was quoted as saying, "I'm excited for my people because it's going to do what they want it to do. It's a big shot in the arm for us." Unemployment, which had been running about 60 percent (some sources later said 90 percent), was wiped out. Although most of the 150 employees of the palace were non-Indians, everyone on the reservation who wanted to work could be accommodated. 45

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As a later tribal chairman was to say, proximity to the Twin Cities was the reservation's only resource, and it was this proximity that made Little Six "wildly successful," as a newspaper article phrased it a few months later, from the start. Buses took people from various shopping centers in the metropolitan area to the "palace." For $12 a ticket, the customer received a bus ride and a packet of sixteen bingo cards. On a slow night, perhaps only 500 players appeared; but on

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jackpot nights people had to be turned away when all 1,300 seats were occupied. Big winners were escorted to the bus or to their cars, just to be on the safe side. 46

After Little Six had been in operation for a few months, it became evident that it was indeed "wildly successful," or, as Crooks described it, "darn near a Utopia." Within six months the tribe had paid off its $1 million debt, built a medical/dental clinic, paved the reservation roads and driveways, and paid each family $700. It grossed over $9 million in its first year; after prizes, salaries, and other expenses had been deducted, the tribe still netted over $1 million. 47

By the end of February 1984, when it was possible to evaluate the whole experience, a pair of investigative articles appeared in the St. Paul Pioneer Press. At that time the tribe's share of the profits was being divided three ways. The largest share, 54.5 percent, was going for individual payments to 72 adults and 24 children who lived on the reservation; monthly payments varied from $600 to $1,500. Eighty percent of the children's shares went into an educational trust fund, the rest to the parents for essential goods and services. With .5 percent going for legal expenses, the remaining 45 percent went into tribal programs. Crooks said that the tribe had given about $108,000 to various charities. The bingo parlor was then employing about 230 part-time workers, who received from $3.35 to $5.50 per hour. The tribe had spent $150,000 on the medical/dental building, which was later expanded to include a $90,000 tribal office and a day care center. By that time they were finishing a half-million dollar cultural center. 48

If the bingo business gave Shakopee Mdewakantons "darn near a Utopia," there was also a downside. In the interview in which Crooks used that phrase, he also admitted that the tribe's sudden wealth had also generated "prejudice and resentment" and a conflict with the city of Prior Lake. The clash with the city is the most readily documented of these undesired consequences. In July 1983, the city council, arguing that the 1972 annexation was illegal and that it had no "governing authority" over the reservation's residents, redrew precinct boundaries so as to leave the reservation outside. Of this action city manager Mike McGuire said, with unusual frankness, that the "intent was to keep the Indians from voting in city elections." City officials feared that if the Indians did vote, they would demand police, fire, and other services on the same basis as other citizens. They were at the time paying $12,000 a year for police and fire protection under the contract negotiated the previous year. 49

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Since among other handicaps this move left the Indians without a place in which to vote in county, state, or federal elections, they took the city to court and won two decisions, first from U.S. District Judge Paul Magnuson and then from a three-judge panel of the 8th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, affirming the Indian's right to vote in Prior Lake, which, said the courts, had legally annexed the reservation and was obligated to provide voting rights and municipal services on an equal basis with other citizens, even though it lacked civil jurisdiction over them. 50

During the two years that the case against the city was being litigated, a dispute arose within the tribe over Crooks' management of the gaming enterprise. Some members blamed him for a decrease in per capita payments late in 1984, which he attributed to the novelty having worn off and to competition from a similar business started the previous winter at Prairie Island. After a petition had been circulated calling for his ouster, the general council voted to remove him from office and replace him with Leonard Prescott, leader of the dissident faction. Not long after this controversy had been settled, another arose from within the ranks of the new tribal leaders. For the next couple of years charges and counter-charges were hurled back and forth, lawsuits were undertaken, the BIA reluctantly entered the fray, and metropolitan newspapers gave considerable attention to the issue. 51

The Reverend Gary Cavender, who served the Ho Waste Episcopal Indian Mission near the Shakopee Mdewakanton Reservation, deplored the media's emphasis on the sensational aspects of these quarrels. The Indians weren't fighting all the time, he pointed out; they also were carrying out positive programs, such as building a church designed by an Indian architect. The matter warrants attention here only because it suggests how minor disagreements and factional infighting could be exacerbated by the high stakes of an enterprise described in February 1985 as a $12 million business and in April 1986 as an $18 million operation. 52

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As soon as Little Six had proved a success, people at the other communities began discussing how they could get into the act. According to a chronology published in the Red Wing newspaper, the first official discussion in the Prairie Island tribal council occurred in January 1983. After some inconclusive negotiations with a questionable organization called the Basic Bible Church of Amerika, the council hired a St. Paul firm called the Red Wing Amusement Company to build a 24,000-square-foot palace at a cost of some $1.2 million,

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which opened on February 29, 1984. Under the agreement, the company would get 90 percent of the profits until the building was paid for, after which the profits would be split, as at Little Six, 55 percent to the tribe, 45 percent to the company. The company would manage the operation for ten years. At the beginning, 70 of the 150 employees hired were enrolled tribal members. 53

Because Prairie Island was farther from the Twin Cities than Little Six and more isolated, many expected that it would be less profitable than its predecessor. In order to compensate for this handicap, Island Bingo, as it was called, offered larger prizes than Little Six--a decision that led to objections from the latter. But when, on opening night, nearly all the seats were filled, many with people who had arrived on buses from the Twin Cities, Rochester, Winona, and elsewhere, it was found that at least some of the players had been at Little Six earlier in the day. 54 So it appeared that not only would Island Bingo be a success, but it would achieve that success without drawing business away from Little Six.

Tribal leaders at Prairie Island had plans for the expected profits. At the time the facility opened, Vine Wells, council president, said that some of their earnings would pay for housing for the elderly and college education for the young people. At that time there were 280 enrolled members, 150 of whom were living on the reservation. At the beginning of 1985 construction began on a housing project planned for five years and aided by $1.4 million from HUD. It consisted of twenty-four units, nineteen two-story single-family units, a duplex, and a triplex. 55

The effects of high-stakes bingo on Prairie Island were, as at Prior Lake, both good and bad. It took two and half years to pay for the $1.2 million building, but in its first year the enterprise paid out more than $9 million in prizes. When the facility had been paid for and the tribe was about to begin receiving 55 percent of the profits, its leaders decided to buy out Red Wing Amusement's contract for $407,000. They claimed that they had received only 4 percent of the $44 million in profits that the facility had earned in its first four years of operation. When a dissident faction, thinking the price too steep, sought to block the tribe's effort, factionalism once more reared its ugly head, as it had done at Shakopee Mdewakanton, and the controversy found its way into the courts. 56

The dissident faction's suit was dismissed, and the tribe took over management of the bingo hall in December 1988, reportedly at a price of $250,000. The early prosperity had waned somewhat by this

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time, and it did not improve under tribal management. In the following years the tribe contracted, successively, with two outside companies, one of which changed the facility's name to Treasure Island Casino, and greatly expanded the building in May 1991. Subsequently the tribe resumed control of the casino but hired a general manager, under whose direction the enterprise again became profitable. The return of prosperity did not lessen factional quarreling; as at Little Six, the more there was to fight over, the more fighting took place. 57

A little more than six months after the opening of Island Bingo, the Lower Sioux community joined the other two reservations with Jackpot Junction, a $600,000 facility financed in large part by GMT Management Company, a Glenwood ( Minnesota)--based partnership that operated three casinos in Deadwood, South Dakota. In the early years of the Reagan administration, the community had suffered from cutbacks in the federal jobs program, BIA housing subsidies and social services, and elimination of health programs for the handicapped and elderly. With the nationwide recession reducing the number of off-reservation jobs, it was claimed that unemployment had risen from about 50 percent to nearly go percent by April 1982, when tribal members Tom Goldtooth and Morris Pendleton met with representatives of 36 foundations, corporations, and giving programs in St. Paul. The two men were seeking $150,000 in grant money, which would not only aid the Indians economically but also help them gain a sense of self-reliance. As Goldtooth said, There's been a whole century of dependency that's been building-dependency on the federal government, the state, the tribe. It has put us in the position where we don't feel we can make our own decisions." 58

When Jackpot Junction opened in September 1984, it was expected to do great things for the community. After a promising start, however, the bingo parlor for a time failed to measure up to expectations. Much farther from the Twin Cities than Little Six or even Island Bingo, it had not drawn the attendance its promoters had hoped for. At the end of 1985 its balance sheet for the year showed a loss of $92,000 on an income of $2.2 million. There were rumors that it might cut back from three nights a week to one, or even close. It did, however, employ forty-two Indians and eight others married to Indians and had a payroll of $275,000 in 1985. 59

The day-to-day management was not all it could have been. Taxes on cigarettes sold at the facility weren't being forwarded to the state,

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and it fell $31,000 in debt to the Internal Revenue Service because of the management's failure to deduct withholding taxes. A petition signed by over half the voting membership called for changes in the management of the hall, and in October, 1986, seven members of the community broke into the building and staged a two-hour takeover that ended only when the county sheriff and other law enforcement officers moved in. The seven men received light sentences when the case was finally disposed of, more than a year later. 60

Whether this bold action had anything to do with it or not, business picked up in the years that followed, especially after Jackpot Junction became the first of Minnesota's reservation casinos to venture beyond church-basement bingo into a new, high-stakes variant that was reminiscent of Las Vegas. Up to four thousand customers a week came from as far as Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, and Winnipeg on bargain bus tours. Gaming went on all night, and at 5:30 a.m. a "bingo bus" would pick up a load of gamblers and haul them the 125 miles to the Twin Cities, where they were dropped off at various shopping centers. In the space of a year, receipts rose from $4 million to $30 million, and unemployment had ceased to exist on the reservation. Tribal attorney John Jacobson remarked that gaming was changing reservation life in a way that government programs had never done. 61

In 1985 the Sioux communities began taking over management of their bingo parlors. Shakopee Mdewakanton, first to enter the business, was also the first to assume complete control of its casino. Early in 1985 the newly elected tribal leaders took legal steps to invalidate the 1982 contract that Norman Crooks had negotiated. Both U.S. District Judge Diana Murphy and the BIA ruled that the contract was invalid, and management of the bingo parlor was transferred to the tribe. 62

Although Crooks predicted that this move would ruin business, he proved wrong this time, and the continued success of Little Six may have emboldened the Prairie Island tribal leaders, as noted earlier, to follow the example of those at Shakopee Mdewakanton about three years later. In 1992 the Lower Sioux community bought out the management of Jackpot Junction, which had been taking 30 percent of the receipts. "We just felt it was time for us to go on our own," said tribal chairman Jody Goodthunder. 63

By the early 1990s all three of the bingo parlors were huge successes, and in January 1991 the Upper Sioux community joined the other reservations by opening the Firefly Creek Casino. At the outset

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it operated for sixteen hours on weekdays, around the clock on weekends, and had 120 full- and part-time employees and an anticipated payroll of $750,000 a year. It offered 114 slot machines and "something that looks a lot like blackjack" but was called Bingo 21. Like the others, it enjoyed a period of prosperity before falling on hard times. By August 1992, when the tribal chairman was ousted and several employees were fired, it was rumored to have lost $26,000 a day in June and $31,000 a day in July, and to be on the verge of closing. A more optimistic view held that it was thriving and that it had brought thousands of visitors to Granite Falls, with substantial benefit to business there. 64 The casino survived and apparently gained back some of its original momentum in subsequent months, but it remained a small operation competing with larger ones.

In May 1992 the Shakopee Mdewakanton tribe opened a second facility, the $15 million Mystic Lake Casino, with 1,100 slot machines, 76 blackjack tables, and a 1,100-seat, terraced bingo parlor. It also contained a delicatessen, a buffet restaurant, and a private dining and meeting room. Spotlights in the shape of a Dakota tipi were visible for a distance of thirty miles at night. By this time, according to Chairman Prescott, some per capita payments had reached $4,000 a month. 65

In the summer of 1993 the Prairie Island people unveiled a 78,000-square-foot addition containing a restaurant, sports lounge, banquet facilities, and another 200 slot machines; a 135-berth marina on Sturgeon Lake was to follow. The Treasure Island Casino had by this time come to be the largest employer in Red Wing and the thirty-fourth largest privately held corporation in Minnesota, and claimed to have a half-billion dollar impact on the surrounding area. The vast new Tribal Community Center, with its swimming pool, gymnasium, and day-care center, quite cast into the shade the one built in 1979 and symbolized the changes that had occurred in only a few years. 66

Just before the Mystic Lake Casino opened, the tribal leadership ran into difficulties, not with their white neighbors (though the controversy with Prior Lake was still simmering) but with Indian activists who objected to the use of the sacred white buffalo in their advertising. Vernon and Clyde Bellecourt, AIM leaders, said that its use as a symbol was disrespectful. Prescott disagreed, saying that the buffalo economy was part of the Indians' past and that gambling was their "new buffalo." But as chairman of the board of Little Six, Inc.,

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he agreed to stop using the symbol and to review their use of the eagle in similar advertising. Clyde Bellecourt reported that the casino owners would let a task force of concerned Indians review all future advertising before it was used. 67

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With the opening of Mystic Lake and the expansion of Treasure Island, commercial gaming on the Sioux Indian reservations in Minnesota may be said to have come of age. By that time the state was easily leading the nation in reservation gambling and was reported to be fourth in per capita betting. Was all this good or bad? For the Indians it appeared to be a bonanza. In a newspaper article titled "New Casino Gives Dakota Pride," St. Paul columnist Nick Coleman said that the message the new enterprise carried was "Dama Kota"-"I am a Dakota." And the Reverend Gary Cavender exclaimed, "We're not sucking off welfare--we're employers. That's the thing that blows me away: we can make an economic impact." 68

Some non-Indians agreed. When Myron Ellis, chairman of the Minnesota Indian Gaming Commission, testified before the Senate Select Committee on Indian Affairs in February 1992, he cited a study done by the accounting firm of Peat, Marwick & Main of five Indian casinos, including three operated by the Sioux. In four rural counties, including Goodhue and Redwood, the number of people receiving benefits under Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC) had declined 16 percent since 1987, while the statewide total had increased 15 percent. He used these figures to deflect criticism that the profits from casinos were being siphoned off from the Indians who nominally ran them. His testimony was reported in an article headlined "4,500 New Jobs Top Success Story of Indian Casinos." Claims were also made, based on the testimony of businessmen in Prior Lake and elsewhere, that business in adjacent towns was also increased by the influx of people wishing to patronize the casinos. 69

But there were nagging questions about the legality of some of these gaming operations, not to mention their effect on other types of gambling. As early as 1983 some state legislators were concerned about the potential threat to parimutuel betting on horse races at the new racetrack at Canterbury Downs, near Shakopee. By 1986 the state attorney general's office was wondering aloud whether some of the forms of gambling newly adopted on the reservations were legal. Bingo was legal, but poker, video machines, and electronic slot machines might not be. By that time Little Six was offering video poker, electronic slot machines, pull-tabs, and "bingoized" versions of

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craps, blackjack, and roulette. Neither the charitable gambling board nor the BIA appeared to have any police control over the games. 70

In 1982 the U.S. Supreme Court had declined to consider the issue of state control over gambling on Indian reservations and let a lower court ruling favorable to the Indians stand. In 1986 a similar California case came before the court. Two federal appellate courts there had ruled against the state, but in Maine and Oklahoma state supreme courts had decided in favor of state regulation. Early in 1987 the Supreme Court ruled, 6-3, that state and local authorities may not prohibit Indians from operating gambling casinos on reservations. In the light of these confusing and contradictory rulings, in October 1988 Congress passed the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act, which brought some order out of a complex issue, but it left some grey areas. It also established an Indian Gaming Commission, one of whose tasks was to rule on problems that might arise. In May 1992 a ruling by the Commission took effect, barring Indian casinos from running electronic slot machines or keno games without state approval. U.S. Attorney Tom Heffelfinger reportedly told casino operators they must negotiate agreements with the state if they wanted to play lotto-type games. "We will . . . enforce the Federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act," he said. The management of Little Six brought suit against the Indian Gaming Commission, while the Lower Sioux community leaders said they would change the game at Jackpot Junction to make it more like bingo. 71

Another issue that eventually wound up in the courts was the selectivity exercised by some tribes with regard to the distribution of per capita payments. Like Flandreau, Lower Sioux distinguished between residents and non-residents. And when people who had not lived on the reservation for years, if ever, began settling there, the council decreed that they must have lived within ten miles of the community in August 1990 in order to qualify for payments. Some of those excluded brought suit against the tribe, and on March 11, 1993, in U.S. District Court, Judge Paul Magnuson ruled against the tribe and ordered it to set aside 30 percent of casino receipts while the Department of the Interior reviewed its payment policy. The Indian Gaming Regulatory Act was silent as to whether tribes could discriminate on the basis of residence in the distribution of per capita payments, but it had specified that all plans must be approved by the Secretary of the Interior. Shakopee Mdewakanton also discrimi-

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nated in this fashion, whereas Prairie Island paid all 410 enrolled members on the same basis. 72

Despite its acknowledged benefits to the tribes, the future of Indian gaming is still in doubt. Gary Dawson, writing for the St. Paul Pioneer Press on the opening of the Mystic Lake Casino, remarked, "Market saturation, in fact, appears to be the thing that would dictate an end to tribal gaming expansion. How far away that is remains to be seen." Others who have doubts about the continued expansion of the "new buffalo" believe that by providing needed capital and experience in managing business, the casinos have benefited the Indians in ways that will persist far beyond the time when profits begin to diminish and perhaps disappear. 73

While all four Sioux communities were reaping benefits from commercial gaming, the Prairie Island people were wrestling with a problem all their own. When Northern States Power built its nuclear generating plant in the late 1960s, the benefits were expected to outweigh whatever disadvantages it might bring. For the next two decades it seemed as though this would be the case. As late as 1985 the author of Indians in Minnesota observed that, though questions had been raised about nuclear power plant safety and though questions of possible contamination had been brought up at tribal council meetings, "the Indian community has had no discernible health problems from the power plant and is not concerned about its presence." 74

This optimistic view was probably not held by all members of the community even then. In August 1986, when Prairie Island celebrated its centennial, a staff writer from the Pioneer Press interviewed Hazel Wells, who had watched eighty-four years of change on the island. Commenting on the juxtaposition of the nuclear plant and the eighty-one-year-old Church of the Messiah, founded by her grandfather, Mrs. Wells remarked, "We're still waiting for the Messiah. Instead, we got the nuclear plant." 75

One problem worrying the Prairie Island people in their relations with NSP was the ongoing danger of radioactive contamination should some accident occur at the plant. When an "unusual event"-the lowest of four alert levels--occurred in February 1992, federal inspectors appeared on the scene and assured everyone concerned that the accident posed no threat to the health and safety of people inside the plant or near it. Nevertheless, William Hardacker, lawyer for the tribe, insisted that, no matter what NSP or the Nuclear Regu-

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latory Commission said, the " Prairie Island community will always have serious questions about the operation of this plant" and the accumulation of waste there. A few months later NSP reported that an eight-inch water line had leaked radioactive tritium into private wells on the reservation. 76

What made relations between the Indians and the company turn ugly was a proposal by NSP to store radioactive wastes in casks outside the plant, adjacent to the reservation. The utility's problem was that it would run out of storage space in its spent-fuel pool in 1994 or 1995, and a proposed national storage site in Nevada would not be available until 2010--if ever. The plan for temporary storage was approved by the Environmental Quality Board, but it was opposed by members of the Indian community, who said, in effect, "Not in my back yard!", and by various environmental groups, whose argument was supported by a Minnesota Department of Health study that asserted that radioactive gases were increasing the cancer risk for island residents to six times the state standard and that the storage of wastes in casks would increase the hazard. 77

The controversy heated up in November 1991, when hearings were conducted before Administrative Law Judge Allen Klein, and tribal officials joined environmentalists in a demonstration in St. Paul. A short time later the tribe hired an advertising agency to prepare a television spot expressing their views and attempting to sway public opinion against NSP. All four major Twin Cities TV stations refused to run the ad, which opened with the line "NSP doesn't want you to hear this." Eventually another station did run a revised ad, but columnist Nick Coleman commented that NSP spent $5 million a year on advertising in Minnesota, nearly half of which was ultimately paid for by consumers in the form of higher rates. 78

The Indians won only a doubtful victory in this episode, and they lost in court--twice--in an attempt to enforce an ordinance intended to prevent NSP from hauling radioactive material over reservation roads. NSP also denied charges, brought by tribal secretary Edith Pacini, that it had offered the tribe $500,000 to go along with the utility's proposal for waste storage. J oseph Wolf, vice-president for public and environmental affairs, charged that the accusations were part of a tribal campaign "of doing everything in their power to make us miserable." 79

When Judge Klein announced his decision, in April 1992, recommending that NSP be prohibited from storing nuclear wastes out-

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side the plant, it was hailed by one newspaper writer as a "stunning victory for the Prairie Island Indian community." Unfortunately, the judge rejected the argument that storage would pose a health hazard and based his ruling on other grounds, such as that the state legislature should make the final judgment and that attention should be focused on alternative sources of energy. Even more unfortunately, from the Indians' point of view, his conclusions were only a recommendation; the final decision would have to be made by the Minnesota Public Utilities Commission (PUC). The PUC held hearings in June and, after a five-hour debate, rejected Judge Klein's recommendations and ruled in favor of NSP. Coleman commented that it was "the best PUC a power company ever had," and George Crocker, of the North American Water Office, an environmental group, called the decision "a hate crime more vicious than crossburning." 80

The PUC ruling was not, however, the last word on the subject. The case was carried to the Minnesota Court of Appeals, which ruled on June 8, 1993, that NSP must go to the legislature for approval of the waste storage plan. Its argument was that the Radioactive Waste Management Act ( 1977) required the company to get "express legislative authorization" before proceeding with its plan. NSP spokesmen denied that the RWMA applied to a "temporary" storage site and continued building the facilities, while taking their case to the Minnesota Supreme Court. About six weeks later the Supreme Court declined to hear the appeal, thus leaving the final decision up to the 1994 legislature. 81

Not all the recent history of the Minnesota Sioux has occurred on reservations. As Indians have become more visible in the larger community, their interaction with non-Indians has increased, and they have come to share their culture and traditions with interested members of the general population. In September 1972, what was called "the first authentic powwow in recent years" took place in Mankato. After a slow beginning, this event, now called the Mah-Kato Mdewakanton Powwow, has become an annual affair, drawing both Indians and non-Indians from a wide area, gradually increasing its attendance from two thousand to over five thousand by 1989. First held in the Key City Ball Park, it later found a permanent home in the campground part of Sibley Park, now called Land of Memories--"sacred, blessed ground" to the Indians, who had used it in tribal days as a camping place. Besides the customary dancing by

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members of many tribes, the powwow includes a sweat lodge ceremony, meals, give-aways, honoring of the dead, and name-giving ceremonies. 82

One of the instigators of the first Mah-Kato Powwow was Amos Owen, tribal chairman of Prairie Island for a time in the 1960s. Owen, a towering figure in the recent history of the Minnesota Sioux, was born on the Lake Traverse reservation in 1917 and came to Prairie Island with his mother in 1934. He was deeply interested in the traditions of his people and in his later years became known as a tribal elder and spiritual leader. Besides conducting weekly sweat lodge ceremonies at Prairie Island, each December 26 (the anniversary of the mass execution in Mankato) he held a pipe ceremony, burning sweet sage, praying to the four directions, and reciting the names of the thirty-eight who had been hanged there in 1862. 83

If Mankato was, in a sense, doing penance in hosting the powwow, it went even further in that direction in 1975, when the Native People's Bicentennial Commission and AIM sponsored a Day of Reconciliation. The principal ceremony took place on the site of the 1862 execution, where Norman Blue, then chairman at Lower Sioux, read, in Dakota, the names of the thirty-eight, whom Vernon Bellecourt compared to the Revolutionary patriots to be honored the following year. Singers and drummers from the Santee Reservation sang traditional memorial songs. Later some two hundred people, mostly Indians, marched to Mankato State University's Highland Arena for a traditional meal and dancing. 84

By proclamation of Governor Rudy Perpich, 1987 was declared a Year of Reconciliation, beginning with a run from Fort Snelling to Mankato on December 26, 1986. At Land of Memories Park Chris Cavender spoke to about twenty runners and thirty others, and Amos Owen conducted a ceremony. Cavender said that both Indians and whites still harbored feelings about 1862 that needed to be resolved. More than fifteen events were planned for the next year, at Mankato, New Ulm, Fort Ridgely, Fort Snelling, and other locations identified with the Sioux Uprising, now called the U.S.-Dakota Conflict. 85

As part of the Year of Reconciliation, the remains of twenty-one men and ten women who had died at the prison near Davenport, Iowa, during their years of incarceration there, were recovered from the Iowa museum where they had been stored, and were reburied at the Lower Sioux community cemetery. The reburial was

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done in the native manner, with burning sage and a traditional prayer by Amos Owen. 86

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Owen's life of service to his people ended less than three years later, when on June 4, 1990, he died of cancer. A horse-drawn hearse carried his coffin, made by his sons, to the Prairie Island cemetery, where he was buried in a star quilt, with bracelets of sage around his ankles and wrists. Both Christian and Dakota prayers were said. In his later years he had given up fishing because he had made a pledge not to kill anything. Even when he cut willows for ceremonial use, he made an offering to the trees. Nick Coleman, who said Owen had done more than anyone else to heal the scars of the 1862 war through his lectures to high school and college audiences, saw an eagle soaring over the Mississippi River bluffs and recalled that he had seen an eagle the day he met Amos, trying to start a pipe on a cold and windy day. 87 Amos Owen is remembered in Mankato, where his portrait hangs in the Minnesota Valley Regional Library, located on the site of the execution, and where a cottonwood tree was planted in his honor on the Mankato State University campus. Each year MSU anthropology professor Michael Scullin's students and members of the Mah-Kato Mdewakanton Club, composed of Indian students and interested non-Indians, plant corn, beans, squash, and sunflowers in the Amos Owen Garden of American Indian Horticulture.

The history of the Santee Sioux is not over. At the rate events are occurring, one is hesitant to venture any generalizations, for they may be out-dated by the time they are made. Individuals may pass from the scene, but the people live on, not as a single entity but as a group of related communities. The Santee Sioux have not been swallowed up by the surrounding white society, nor have they been swept into the sea of Pan-Indianism. They participate more fully then they did a quarter-century ago in the larger society, however, and they are more aware of themselves as Indians and as members of the minority population. The term "environmental racism" was new to the Prairie Island people when they began their struggle against NSP, but they soon embraced it as descriptive of the power company's behavior, as they perceived it. 88

Given the rapidity of change in the contemporary Santee Sioux communities, it would be hazardous to predict, in any detail, future trends. But some educated guesses may be projected from the past record and recent developments. In a book about the prehistoric

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Chaco Culture of New Mexico, Kendrick Frazier remarks, "Part of the resiliency of Indian cultures is an ability to maintain tradition while adapting to changing conditions." 89 This resiliency is not, of course, unique to Indians, but the history of the Americas has subjected them to the pressure of "changing conditions" perhaps to a greater degree than any other race. And Peter D. Elias, after studying the Canadian descendants of the Eastern Sioux who fled Minnesota in 1862-63--now over three thousand strong--concluded that when they were treated with benign neglect and permitted to work out their own adjustments to the changing world around them, they managed pretty well, but when forced to submit to government interference, they retrogressed into poverty and apathy. 90

With the economic prosperity brought by commercial gaming and the growing emphasis on self-determination in the policies currently being pursued by the BIA, the Santee Sioux probably have a better chance of realizing their potential than they have enjoyed at any time since they were first impacted by Euro-American civilization. Those familiar with the often tragic history of this gifted people can only wish them success in a future that looks brighter just now than ever before.

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NOTES
1. Jane F. Smith and Robert M. Kvasnicka, eds., Indian-White Relations: A Persistent Paradox ( Washington: Howard University Press, 1976), p. 211. This book is a collection of papers and commentaries presented at the National Archives Conference on Research in the History of Indian-White Relations, held in J une 1972. The quotation is from a note to my comment on William T. Hagan paper, "The Reservation Policy: Too Little and Too Late." The note containing this observation was added later, after a visit to the Santee reservation about three weeks after the conference.

2. Interview with Richard Kitto, Tribal Chairman, June 15, 1993.

3. Interview with Mr. Kitto, June 15, 1993.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid.

6. Ibid.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid.

9. Interview with Lorraine Rousseau, Tribal Chairwoman, June 16, 1993; Sota Iya Ye Yapi ( Agency Village, S. Dak.), June 17, 1993.

10. United States Department of the Interior, Reports, September 1960,


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U.S. Indian Population and Land: 1960, p. 25; U.S. Statutes at Large, XCVI, 2411-14; interview with Ms. Rousseau, June 16, 1993.

11. Sota lya Ye Yapi, June 17, 1993.

12. Interview with Ms. Rousseau, June 16, 1993; interview with Loretta B. Webster , Superintendent, Sisseton Agency, June 16, 1993.

13. Interview with Ms. Rousseau, June 16, 1993.

14. Interview with Ms. Rousseau, June 16, 1993; Sota lya Ye Yapi, June 17, 1993.

15. Interview with Ms. Rousseau, J une 16, 1993; Sota lya Ye Yapi, June 17, 1993.

16. Sota Iya Ye Yapi, June 17, 1993.

17. U.S. Statutes at Large, XCVI, 2515-17.

18. Ibid., 2517-19.

19. U.S. Indian Population and Land: 1960, p. 21; Realty Branch, Devils Lake Agency, Fort Totten, N. Dak., June 29, 1993.

20. Interview with Douglas Sevigny, Tribal Planner, Devils Lake Sioux Tribe, Fort Totten, N. Dak., June 29, 1993.

21. Interview with Mr. Sevigny, June 29, 1993.

22. Ibid.

23. Ibid.

24. Ibid.

25. Ibid.

26. Interview with Judi Ami, Chief Executive Officer, Four Winds Elementary School, Fort Totten, N. Dak., June 29, 1993.

27. Interview with Eric Longie, Academic Dean, Little Hoop Community College, Fort Totten, N. Dak., June 29, 1993.

28. Interview with Mr. Longie, June 29, 1993.

29. Interviews with Cheryl Redearth and Gordon Jones Jr., members of Flandreau Santee Sioux Tribal Council, June 16, 1993; U.S. Indian Population and Land: 1960, p. 24.

30. Interview with Mr. Jones, June 16, 1993; Indian Country Today ( Rapid City, S. Dak.), March 24, 1993.

31. U.S. Statutes at large, XCIX, 549-50.

32. Interviews with Ms. Redearth and Mr. Jones, June 16, 1993.

33. Elizabeth Ebbott, Indians in Minnesota ( Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1985), pp. 31, 56.

34. Ebbott, p. 56.

35. Ibid., pp. 56, 194-95.

36. Ibid., p. 42 (Table 5).

37. U.S. Indian Population and Land: 1960, p. 14; Ebbott, p. 42 (Table 5).

38. Daily Republican Eagle ( Red Wing, Minn.), October 22 and 24, 1979.

39. Minneapolis Tribune, June 13, 1981. Campbell died on July 29, 1981. See Republican Eagle, July 30, 1981.

40. U.S. Statutes at Large, XCIX, 549-52; St. Paul Pioneer Press, May 15,

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403-
1983; Star and Tribune ( Minneapolis), May 15 and 16, 1983.

41. Tribune, December 1, 1981. Tribal officials accused the couple living on the land of leasing some of it to farmers and pocketing the income.

42. St. Paul Dispatch, January 5, 1982; Tribune, September 1 and 10, 1982; Pioneer Press, September 10, 1982. Minnesota law limited bingo prizes to $100, but Indian tribes' immunity to state regulation permitted them to offer larger awards. The woman evicted from the t tribal land and her daughter opened an off-sale liquor store, "Firewall Liquors," in a mobile home. Star and Tribune, May 27, 1983.

43. Ruth Denny, "Indian Casinos Hit the Jackpot," Utne Reader, November-December, 1992, p. 35; Tribune, October 17, 1982; interview with Earl J. Barlow , Area Director, Minneapolis Area Office, Bureau of Indian Affairs, July 8, 1993.

44. Tribune, July 8 and September 1 and 10, 1982; Pioneer Press, August 28, 1982, and September 23, 1982.

45. Ebbott, p. 94; Pioneer Press, September 10 and October 16, 1982.

46. Tribune, December 23, 1982; Pioneer Press, February 24, 1984; Pioneer Press and Dispatch, May 14, 1986.

47. Pioneer Press, February 24 and 26, 1984; Dispatch, June 22, 1983.

48. Wayne Wangstad, "Bingo Is Cash Cornucopia for Shakopee Sioux Tribe," Pioneer Press, February 26, 1984.

49. Pioneer Press, August 12 and September 24, 1983; February 24, 1984; Pioneer Pres and Dispatch, February 13, 1985.

50. Pioneer Press, August 12 and September 24, 1983; "Pioneer Press and Dispatch", February 13 and August 31, 1985. This was not exactly the end of the controversy. In September 1985, the city council voted to appeal the case to the U.S. Supreme Court. See Star and Tribune, September 17, 1985. Since no further references to the matter have been found in newspapers, however, either the council had second thoughts, or else the Supreme Court declined to consider the case.

51. Pioneer Press, November 19 and December 24, 26, and 27, 1984; Dispatch, October 24, November 27 and 30, and December 27, 1984; Pioneer Press and Dispatch, January 18 and February 1 and 2, 1985. Much of the criticism of Crooks centered on the agreement he had made in 1982 with the company that built the bingo parlor, under the terms of which he and his wife were to receive $200,000 over a fifteen-year period for the taking of a small piece of land on which he had operated a tree-burning business. See Tribune, June 30, 1981; Pioneer Press and Dispatch, January 9 and 10, 1985. For further information on tribal infighting, see Pioneer Press and Dispatch, July 8, 1985; April 5, 1986; November 24 and December 7, 9, 12, and 22, 1987.

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52. Pioneer Press and Dispatch, February 2 and 24, 1985; April 5, 1986. By late November 1987, it was said to be grossing between $18 million and $26 million annually, and by August 1990, $40 million. See Pioneer Press and Dispatch, November 24, 1987, and August 8, 1990. By May 1991, just before the


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Mystic Lake Casino was opened, the tribe was said to have annual revenues of over $50 million and to be the largest year-around employer in Scott County. See Pioneer Press, May 12 and 19, 1991.

53. Star and Tribune, May 5, 1983; Dispatch, June 23, 1983, and December 13, 1983; Wayne Wangstad, "Mdewakanton Sioux Tribe to Join Bingo Bonanza," Pioneer Press, February 26, 1984; Republican Eagle, May 1992.

54. Wangstad, "Mdewakanton Sioux," Pioneer Press, February 26, 1984; February 29 and March 1, 1984.

55. Linda Kohl, "Plush Bingo Hall Draws Hundreds First Night," Dispatch, March 1, 1984; Tribune, January 3, 1985.

56. Pioneer Press and Dispatch, October 18, 1986; July 14 and November 24, 1988.

57. Pioneer Press and Dispatch, December 2 and 8, 1988; November 10 and 13, 1989; Republican Eagle, May 1992.

58. Star and Tribune, April 23, 1982; Pioneer Press, December 8, 1991.

59. Star and Tribune, March 2, 1986.

60. Star and Tribune, March 2, 1986; Pioneer Press and Dispatch, October 8, 1986; July 14, September 11, and December 2, 1987.

61. Anne Brataas, "Jackpot," Pioneer Press and Dispatch, November 11, 1990.

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62. Pioneer Press and Dispatch, February 14 and June 20, 1985; Star and Tribune, April 18 and June 19, 1985.

63. Pioneer Press, January 2, 1992.

64. Ibid., January 21, 1991, and August 28, 1992. The article announcing the opening of the Firefly Creek Casino was headlined "Casino Glut?"

65. Pioneer Press, May 10, 1992.

66. Native American Press (Bemidji, Minn.), July 2, 1993; Republican Eagle, May 1992.

67. Pioneer Press, May 9, 1992.

68. Ibid., May 10 and 12, 1992.

69. Ibid., February 6, 1992 ; Star and Tribune, December 7, 1983.

70. Dispatch, December 13, 1983; Pioneer Press and Dispatch, May 14, 1986.

71. Star and Tribune, June 10, 1986; Pioneer Press, February 26, 1987, May 3 and 9, 1992; U.S. Statutes at Large, CII, 2467-88.

72. Indian Country Today, March 24, 1993; The Circle ( Minneapolis), April, 1993; U.S. Statutes at Large, CII, 2473.

73. Pioneer Press, May 10, 1992; interview with Mr. Barlow, July 8, 1993.

74. Ebbott, p. 101.

75. Pioneer Press and Dispatch, August 3, 1986.

76. Pioneer Press, February 22 and 26, and May 6, 1992.

77. Ibid., April 19 and May 17, 1991; March 24 and April 1, 1992.

78. Monika Bauerlein, "Nukes on the Reservation," Progressive, 55 ( November, 1991): 14; Pioneer Press, November 17 and 28, and December 5 and 13, 1991.

79. Pioneer Press, November 17 and December 18 and 24, 1991; March 27,


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1992, and April 17, 1993. The Prairie Island Tribal Council muddied the issue considerably at the very end of 1991 by submitting an application for $100,000 in federal funds, to be used to study the possibility of locating a temporary national waste storage plant on the island. Although tribal officials and their attorney insisted that this action was intended merely to call public attention to their situation, environmentalists who had been supporting the tribe in its battle with NSP were shocked by a move that seemed a reversal of its previous stand. It looked to some that if the tribe were offered enough money, they would "take the money and run," lease the reservation to the government, and buy a new reservation elsewhere. See Pioneer Press, January 10 and 12, 1992.

80. Pioneer Press, April 11, June 22 and 27, 1992. The PUC stuck to its position even after an earthquake in the Yucca Mountain area of Nevada made that location seem questionable as a storage site. See Pioneer Press, October 9, 1992.

81. The Circle, July 1993; Pioneer Press, July 29, 1993.

82. Mankato Free Press, September 11 and 16, 1972; September 15, 1984; and June 5, 1990; Pioneer Press and Dispatch, September 21, 1989.

83. Republican Eagle, June 5, 1990; Free Press, June 5, 1990; Nick Coleman, "Above the Bluff an Eagle Soared and Amos Was Buried," Pioneer Press and Dispatch, June 10, 1990.

84. Free Press, November 6, 1975.

85. Free Press, December 22 and 27, 1986; Pioneer Press and Dispatch, March 16, 1987.

86. Pioneer Press and Dispatch, November 29, 1987.

87. Republican Eagle, June 5, 1990; Free Press, June 5, 1990; Coleman, "Above the Bluff," Pioneer Press and Dispatch, June 10, 1990.

88. Pioneer Press, November 17, 1991.

89. Kendrick Frazier, People of Chaco ( New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1986), p. 206.

90. Peter Douglas Elias, The Dakota of the Canadian Northwest ( Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1988), pp. xiv, 224, and passim.

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Appendix
TREATIES WITH THE SANTEE SIOUX
Pike's Treaty of 1805
Conference Between the United States of America and the Sioux Nation of Indians.
WHEREAS, a conference held between the United States of America and the Sioux Nation of Indians, Lieut. Z. M. Pike, of the Army of the United States, and the chiefs and warriors of the said tribe, have agreed to the following articles, which when ratified and approved by the proper authority, shall be binding on both parties:

ARTICLE I. That the Sioux Nation grants unto the United States for the purpose of the establishment of military posts, nine miles square at the mouth of the river St. Croix, also from below the confluence of the Mississippi and St. Peters, up the Mississippi, to include the falls of St. Anthony, extending nine miles on each side of the river. That the Sioux Nation grants to the United States, the full sovereignty and power over said districts forever, without any let or hindrance whatsoever.

ARTICLE 2. That in consideration of the above grants the United States (shall, prior to taking Possession thereof, pay to the Sioux two thousand dollars, or deliver the value thereof in such goods and merchandise as they shall choose).

ARTICLE 3. The United States promise on their part to permit the Sioux to pass, repass, hunt or make other uses of the said districts, as they have formerly done, without any other exception, but those specified in article first.

In testimony hereof, we, the undersigned, have hereunto set our

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hands and seals, at the mouth of the river St. Peters, on the 23rd day of September, one thousand eight hundred and five.

Z. M. PIKE, [SEAL]

First Lieutenant and Agent at the above conference.

LE PETIT CARBEAU, his x mark. [SEAL]

WAY AGA ENOGEE, his x mark. [SEAL]

From Charles J. Kappler, comp. and ed., Indian Affairs, Laws and Treaties, I I ( Washington: Government Printing Office, 1904), 1031.

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Treaty of 1837
Articles of a Treaty, made at the City of Washington, between Joel R. Poinsett, thereto specially authorized by the President of the United States, and certain chiefs and braves of the Sioux nation of Indians.

ARTICLE 1st. The chiefs and braves representing the parties having an interest therein, cede to the United States all their land, east of the Mississippi river, and all their islands in said river.

ARTICLE-2d. In consideration of the cession contained in the preceding article, the United States agree to the following stipulations on their part.

First. To invest the sum of $300,000 (three hundred thousand dollars) in such safe and profitable State stocks as the President may direct, and to pay to the chiefs and braves as aforesaid, annually, forever, an income of not less than five per cent. thereon; a portion of said interest, not exceeding one third, to be applied in such manner as the President may direct, and the residue to be paid in specie, or in such other manner, and for such objects, as the proper authorities of the tribe may designate.

Second. To pay to the relatives and friends of the chiefs and braves, as aforesaid, having not less than one quarter of Sioux blood, $110,000 (one hundred and ten thousand dollars,) to be distributed by the proper authorities of the tribe, upon principles to be determined by the chiefs and braves signing this treaty, and the War Department.

Third. To apply the sum of $90,000 (ninety thousand dollars) to the payment of just debts of the Sioux Indians interested in the lands herewith ceded.

Fourth. To pay to the chiefs and braves as aforesaid an annuity for twenty years of $10,000 (ten thousand dollars) in goods, to be purchased under the direction of the President, and delivered at the expense of the United States.

Fifth. To expend annually for twenty years, for the benefit of Sioux Indians, parties to this treaty, the sum of $8,250 (eight thousand two hundred and fifty dollars) in the purchase of medicines, agricultural Implements and stock, and for the support of a physician, farmers, and blacksmiths, and for other beneficial objects.

Sixth. In order to enable the Indians aforesaid to break up and improve their lands, the United States will supply, as soon as practicable, after the ratification of this treaty, agricultural implements, mechanics'

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tools, cattle, and such other articles as may be useful to them, to an amount not exceeding $10,000 (ten thousand dollars.)

Seventh. To expend annually, for twenty years, the sum of $5,500 (five thousand five hundred dollars) in the purchase of provisions, to be delivered at the expense of the United States.

Eighth. To deliver to the chiefs and braves signing this treaty, upon their arrival at St. Louis, $6,000 (six thousand dollars) in goods.

ARTICLE 3rd. [Stricken out by Senate.]

ARTICLE 4th. This treaty shall be binding on the contracting parties as soon as it shall be ratified by the United States.

In testimony whereof, the said Joel R. Poinsett, and the undersigned chiefs and braves of the Sioux nation, have hereunto set their hands, at the City of Washington, this 29th day of September A. D. 1837.

[Signatures omitted.]

From Charles J. Kappler, comp. and ed., Indian Affairs, Laws and Treaties, II ( Washington: Government Publishing Office, 1904), 493-494.

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Doty Treaties of 1841
Articles of a Treaty made and concluded at Oeyoowarha, on the Minnesota River, in the Territory of Iowa, between James Duane Doty, Commissioner on the part of the United States, and the Seeseeahto, Wofpato and Wofpakoota Bands of the Dakota (or Sioux) nation of Indians.

ARTICLE I. The said Bands do hereby cede to the United States all their right, title and claim to the country occupied or claimed by the said Dakota nation, and particularly to the Tract of country now occupied and owned by the said Bands which is bounded and described as follows to wit: On the South, by the boundaries of the cession made to the United States by the said Bands by their Treaty concluded on the 15th of July 1830: On the East, by a line commencing on the said boundary, thirty miles from the bank of the Mississippi, and running parallel to the general course of the said river thirty miles west of the said river until the said line intersects a line drawn north and south one mile west of Shahkopa's village on Minnesota river, and by the said last mentioned line and the Mississippi and Crow-Wing rivers; On the north, by a line drawn easterly from a point one mile north of the Traders House on Hindahkea Lake (Lac Travers) to the said CrowWing river, and westerly from the said point to the head of the said Hindahkea Lake and thence to the first forks of the stream which enters Eahtonkah Lake near its head, and from the said forks to the western declivity of the Hray, or Coteau de Prairie; and on the west by the said western edge of the said Coteau de Prairie to the head of Eahn river ( Rock river) where the boundary line of the said cession of 1830 Passes the said river: But the right of hunting and fishing as heretofore on the tract above described is reserved to the said Bands until the same is disposed of by the government of the United States to other tribes or persons.

ARTICLE II. The preceding cession is made to the United States upon the following conditions, to wit: