The Wiquapaug Eastern Pequot Indians

In the last 400 years, the Wiquapaug Eastern Pequot Indians have survived European-carried smallpox, a brutal colonial war and an exodus from their tribal lands.

Can they now withstand a government review and a challenge from a rival tribe?

The 119-member group, based in Hope Valley, will soon find out. In June, the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs recognized two nearby Connecticut tribes -- the Eastern Pequots and the Paucatuck Eastern Pequots -- as part of a single historic tribe that settled on the Lantern Hill reservation in North Stonington in the 1680s.

But the bureau didn't include the Wiquapaugs, who live less than 30 miles away.

That was a mistake, says Bruce N. Goodsell, a lawyer from Westerly who represents the tribe. In September, the tribe appealed the BIA's decision, arguing that it shared the same past as the nearby Connecticut tribes.

The three tribes lived on the same land until the 1800s, when the Wiquapaugs were pushed off the North Stonington reservation by "interlopers" -- blacks, whites and rival tribes, says Goodsell. Eventually, the Wiquapaugs settled in Stonington, Westerly, Charlestown, and Hope Valley.

Further, town and federal records show the Wiquapaugs descend from the same Indian leaders as the two tribes that stayed near the 224-acre reservation for three centuries.

"The Wiquapaugs share the same genealogy," says Goodsell. "Why not make them all Pequots?"

Federal recognition would allow the tribe to seek government money for housing, education and health care. A merger with the Eastern Pequots also might have financial advantages.

The Easterns aren't allied with the Mashantucket Pequots, who operate the hugely successful Foxwoods Resort Casino in nearby Ledyard; but they do boast powerful backers, including New York developer and casino owner Donald Trump, who wants to build a third big casino in Connecticut.

The tribe's quest, however, is anything but a sure bet.

Connecticut's politicians, worried about new gaming in the Constitution state, are fighting the BIA's decision to recognize the historic Eastern Pequot tribe.

They say the BIA's decision in June was flawed, and ignored gaps in the evidence. The federal agency relied heavily on the state's decision to set aside land for the tribe and provide services to the people who lived there, "regardless of their Indian ancestry," they say.

Nearly all of the state's congressmen have asked the federal General Accounting Office to look into whether politics influenced the BIA's decision. They also want to know if the agency provided proper notice to the public.

"Clearly, the BIA process is out of whack," says U.S. Sen.

Christopher J. Dodd, D-Conn.

In all, 10 Connecticut tribes are seeking or intend to seek federal recognition, including the Golden Hill Paugussetts and the Schaghticokes, both in western Connecticut. A Paugussett contingent, based in Bridgeport, wants to build a casino there. Two other tribes -- just beyond the state's border in Massachusetts -- also claim to have ties to tribal lands in Connecticut.

"We are at an historic turning point," says state Atty. Gen.

Richard Blumenthal who, with the towns of Ledyard, Preston and North Stonington, has appealed the BIA's decision.

If the federal government recognizes other Connecticut tribes "it will mean an unlimited possibility for casino gambling . .

. with a very significant impact on our quality of life," Blumenthal says.

In 1988, Congress formally recognized the right of tribes to run gambling operations under the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act. That year, 70 Indian casinos and bingo halls opened their doors. Today, some 200 tribes operate gaming facilities in half the U.S., says the National Indian Gaming Association.

Last year, revenues from Indian casinos jumped 16 percent to $12.7 billion, making them major players in the nation's $26 billion gaming industry. Connecticut's two Indian casinos -- Foxwoods Resort Casino and the Mohegan Sun -- generate $2 billion a year. Executives from both tribes recently spoke at the Global Gaming Expo in Las Vegas, where buyers were greeted by Wheel of Fortune hosts Pat Sajack and Vanna White.

The numbers haven't gone unnoticed. Since October 1978, the number of tribes seeking federal recognition has soared from 40 to 236. Not every petitioner wants to build a casino, says Dan DuBray, a spokesman for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. But it "has sort of turned on the spigot."

"Clearly, Indian gaming is a growth area," adds Michael Pollock, publisher of the New Jersey-based newsletter, "Gaming Industry Observer." "And New England is generally seen as an under-served market."

Still, tribes must meet stiff requirements before the government will recognize them, DuBray says. "The traditional Chinook tribe in Washington -- the same tribe that greeted the Lewis and Clark expedition -- did not win federal recognition," he says. "The bar has been set very high."

To qualify, a tribe must prove, among other things, that it is a distinct community that has existed since historic times, and that it has maintained political authority over its members.

The Wiquapaugs say they meet all seven government requirements.

"Ever since I was a little kid, my father and grandfather talked about our heritage and where our ancestors came from," says First Councilman Joseph Edwards, a 32-year-old factory worker who traces his ancestors back eight generations.

The Pequots migrated to Connecticut from New York and, in the early 1600s, traded furs with the Dutch in a wilderness stretching from the Niantic River to the Rhode Island border.

The tribe's written history began with the 1637 Pequot War, when a group of New England colonists, led by John Mason and John Underhill, burned a Pequot stronghold and killed some 500 men, women and children. Some were burned alive in their wigwams; others were impaled on swords.

Nearly 50 years later, the colonial government established a Pequot reservation in what is now North Stonington. In 1800, the direct ancestors of the Wiquapaugs were still living on the reservation. But eventually, they were forced off the reservation by non-Indians, paupers, squatters and others, according to the tribe's petition.

"The English crowded them on every side," a 19th-century historian observed. "Their corn was often ruined by . . . wild horses, and loose cattle and swine; and they were not allowed to hunt, or fish, or trespass in any manner upon lands" claimed by rival tribes or the English.

Many settled in Misquamicut, now Westerly. Others settled nearby or left New England, relocating as far away as Wisconsin. Tribal members, in effect, became "expatriates, unlanded tribal members," says Goodsell. But they have never relinquished their aboriginal land claims. Those claims, he says, precede "the discovery of the continent by Columbus."

In tracing their past, the Wiquapaugs cite town birth and marriage records, church membership rolls, U.S. census reports, newspaper stories and oral histories. Ancestors of the tribe in 1874 helped found the Colored Advent Christian Church, later renamed the Pleasant Street Baptist Church, in Westerly's Italian north end.

Since then, the Wiquapaugs have married Indians from other groups and have taken part in tribal gatherings in Connecticut and Rhode Island; they've even taught some Eastern Pequots how to dance, Edwards says. Tribal members march in Westerly's Veterans Day parade.

"We hold our own little powwow in Watch Hill, and attend regular meetings at the chief's house in Westerly," Edwards says.

The Paucatuck Eastern Pequots, now part of the federally-recognized historic Pequot tribe, disagree with Edwards. The Paucatucks say the Hope Valley Indians are really part of the Narragansett Indian tribe in Charlestown.

James A. Cunha, chief of the Paucatucks, points out that the Wiquapaug chief, Byron O. Brown, has served at different times on the Narragansett Tribal Council since the mid-1960s. Brown, he says, even testified in Washington D.C. on behalf of the Narragansett tribe.

"We have 20 documents saying they are Indians, yes, but they are recognized as Narragansetts," says Cunha, who lives in a trailer on the reservation in North Stonington.

"Where have they been the last 300 years? They didn't live on our reservation."

Not true, Edwards says. The early Wiquapaugs lived on the reservation for a century or more, and only moved a short distance away.

"I can't deny that we have Narragansett blood. To be an Indian in this settlement area, you've got have a little of every tribe" in your blood, says Edwards, who also claims links to the Mohegan and Pequot tribes. "But it's a matter of how you were raised and what tribe you were raised as."

The tribe did not petition the BIA until it became apparent the government could recognize other historic Eastern Pequot tribes, Edwards says. "If they're going to put the Eastern Pequot tribes together, they should consider us as well. If they belong together, then we belong right there with them."

Conversely, more than two dozen Connecticut towns and cities have lined up with attorney general Blumenthal in an appeal to the BIA not to recognize any additional tribes. The group also wants the BIA to reverse itself on the historic Eastern Pequot Tribe.

Local governments "are deeply concerned" that new tribal land will be taken off the tax rolls and be exempt from zoning and other laws, says Ira W. Bloom, a lawyer representing the towns.

In North Stonington, First Selectman Nicholas H. Mullane II worries that new casinos will spark more problems in his town of 5,000. Since nearby Foxwoods opened in 1992, the number of cars on Route 2 has jumped from 8,800 to 25,000 a day, he says. The town selectmen passed an ordinance banning tour buses on secondary roads. The once-volunteer ambulance service and fire department now includes paid drivers.

"We've closed down two houses of prostitution," he says. But a new pornographic super store has opened on Route 2.

Towns like North Stonington get money from a compact between the state and the Mashantucket and Mohegan tribes. Last year, the tribes paid Connecticut $350 million. Of that amount, $35 million went to the state's cities and towns. The two casinos have helped create more than 40,000 new jobs in an area hit hard by the loss of defense industry work. "The Mashantuckets bring in 41,000 people a day to the region," most of them from out of state, says state Rep. Kevin Ryan. "Those people are buying gas, souvenirs and lodging."

But Mullane says the money isn't enough to keep up with the social ills caused by gambling. Southeastern Connecticut, for instance, has the highest drunken driving rate in the state, he says. "It ain't a good deal."

Tribal leaders, meanwhile, say Connecticut's politicians have confused federal recognition with gaming.

And Goodsell says the state is missing a golden opportunity.

The politicians should work with the tribes to determine the best spots for new casinos. Gaming could be used to revive aging downtowns. "They are being shortsighted" he says. "There are all kinds of opportunities out there."

To make their claim, Edwards and other tribal members in the past year have taken time off from work to visit town halls, churches and even Washington, D.C. to poke through musty deeds and church membership rolls. They have emptied their own pockets to pay for the research.

"We have no financial backer," Edwards says. "We're a small little tribe and we stay together. We're trying to do it on our own, as best we can, the way we think the BIA wants it done."

Indian tribeNumber of members Home Federally recognized

Wiquapaug Eastern Pequot 119Hope Valley, RI

No

Narragansett Indians Nearly 3,000 Charlestown, RI

Yes

Eastern Pequot Indians 1,150 North Stonington, CT

Yes

Paucatuck Eastern Pequot Indians 150North Stonington, CT Yes Mashantucket Pequot Indians 700 Mashantucket, CT Yes

Mohegan Indians 1,200 Uncasville, CT Yes

NIPMUCS WAITING ON RECOGNITION

In the middle of last year, the Nipmuc Nation burst into the headlines as a disaffected member of the tribe's council leaked plans to build a casino on about 300 acres along Route 84 in Union, Conn., and Sturbridge, Mass.

The tribe never publicly acknowledged it was looking to build a casino, which would be about an hour from Providence by car.

The tribe, headquartered in Sutton, Mass., on Route 146, had hoped to operate the casino under provisions of the federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act of 1988, which allows tribes to run casinos after being recognized by the federal government.

At the time the casino plans were leaked in June, the Nipmucs had preliminary recognition, which was granted in the waning hours of the Clinton administration. But, in September of last year, a Bush appointee reversed that ruling, denying federal recognition to the Nipmucs and barring them from running a casino.