Mission Indians Research Articles

A Coalition of Lineages: The Fernandeño Tataviam Band of Mission Indians, By Duane Champagne and Carole Goldberg

A Coalition of Lineages: The Fernandeño Tataviam Band of Mission Indians, By Duane Champagne and Carole Goldberg

Review: A Coalition of Lineages: The Fernandeño Tataviam Band of Mission Indians, by Duane Champagne and Carole Goldberg

Review: <i>A Coalition of Lineages: The Fernandeño Tataviam Band of Mission Indians</i>, by Duane Champagne and Carole Goldberg

A Coalition of Lineages: The Fernandeño Tataviam Band of Mission Indians by Duane Champagne and Carole Goldberg

A Coalition of Lineages: The Fernandeño Tataviam Band of Mission Indians by Duane Champagne and Carole Goldberg

The Enduring Flame: Stress, Epigenetics, and the California Indian 1769–2000

Epigenetics, the study of how life's challenges can alter the body's physiology, illustrates the ways stress harmed California's Mission Indians and may still harm their descendants. Eyewitness accounts from the mission period and entries for causes of death in burial records suggest that stress compromised the immune system for many Indians and made others more likely to kill themselves, commit acts of domestic violence, or suffer from mental illness. These ailments do not remain confined to one moment in time. As epigenetics proposes, stress can become encoded in the body. When modern Indians face the same pressures as did their ancestors, the chances increase that age-old afflictions will persist.

We Are the Land: A History of Native California

We Are the Land produces a seismic shift in its insistence that the history of California is the Indigenous history of California. Grafting Indigenous history onto previous narratives of California fails in these authors’ eyes. Keeping the two as distinct enterprises also fails. We Are the Land insists on seeing California as a brief moment in the history of Indigenous people, for whom California is but an episode: “People misunderstood the settler invasion of Indigenous California as California history rather than as an unsustainable and disruptive episode in it.” Instead of minimizing the American contribution to that disruption, much of the book takes place after the Gold Rush, serving to highlight America's contribution to genocide.Comprising ten chapters, this delivers an avalanche of facts, details, and nuance. The authors begin with Indigenous history prior to contact with Europeans, centering Indigenous knowledge, origin stories, and a holistic view of this time period in California. Looking at what has been called the “age of exploration,” the authors begin with beaches, riverbanks, and hillsides to see the moments of first encounter as an engagement of trade and movement into others’ tribal territories well before missionization. With the arrival of Spanish missions and missionaries, Indigenous people in California struggled to cope with disease and the domesticated livestock brought by Europeans which changed the Indigenous landscape, both of which presented a number of risks and opportunities for Indigenous people.Considering the Mexican period of 1811–1849, the authors suggest that Indigenous Californians leveraged their power, especially their labor power, during this period with Russian fur traders, American merchants, and Franciscan missionaries. For the American period of 1846–1873, the authors suggest using genocide as the only way to understand American relations with Indigenous people, but they also look closely at how Indigenous people of California used their power to resist and survive American genocide. From California statehood in 1859 through 1904, Indigenous people focused on creative ways of holding onto communal land in response to the definitively Anglo state's interest in acquiring access and title to all lands of California. From 1905–1928, the authors suggest that Native people in southern California fought allotment as a way of maintaining their communal land bases, while many northern California Indigenous communities embraced the policy to further their land claims, all of which constitutes a distinctive Indigenous legal and political activism.Identity acts as the central force in the period from 1928 through 1954, where the authors see a causality at work in legal and political activism leading to a cultivated Indigenous identity as California Indigenous people, coming together to sue the federal government for land theft. The period of 1953–1985 begins with the federal policy of termination and ends with the assertion of tribal self-determination among California Indigenous people. The authors include California tribes in their analysis here as well as the multi-tribal and multi-national protestors at Alcatraz. Both groups fought for land claims, prevention of dams, and the establishment of bingo halls. The book closes with the period of 1985 to the present, the authors document the fight among tribes, the state of California, the federal government, and private business groups to bring tribal gaming to tribal lands in California. Although it took two decades of struggle for the Cabazon Band of Mission Indians to secure the right to gaming, many other tribes followed suit, bringing in a huge revenue stream. Access to gaming funds has given tribal citizens the opportunity to reconnect and even relocate to tribal lands, and tribes gained the economic power to engage in land legislation, buy back tribal lands, and reassert tribal land rights.The authors provide vignettes of Indigenous viewpoints on spaces within California but also Europe. In an unusual move, they also provide extensive sources at the end of each chapter rather than a collection at the end of the book. Creating their own maps of California tribal lands and reservations of today and insisting on centering their stories on Indigenous knowledge and activism, We Are the Land makes a massive intervention in the field of Native history. This book is a powerful history of what is known as the state of California, giving scholars what they have needed for decades.

Rincon Band Of Luiseño Mission Indians of the Rincon Reservation California et al., Plaintiffs and Appellants, v. LARRY FLYNT et al., Defendants and Respondents. Court of Appeals of California, Fourth District, Division One. No. D077571 Filed October 28, 2021

Rincon Band Of Luiseño Mission Indians of the Rincon Reservation California et al., Plaintiffs and Appellants, v. LARRY FLYNT et al., Defendants and Respondents. Court of Appeals of California, Fourth District, Division One. No. D077571 Filed October 28, 2021

How Indigenous Communities Are Adapting To Climate Change: Insights From The Climate-Ready Tribes Initiative.

Climate change directly threatens human health, with substantial impacts on Indigenous peoples, who are uniquely vulnerable as climate-related events affect their practices, lifeways, self-determination, and physical and cultural health. At the same time, Indigenous communities are leading the way in innovative health-related climate change adaptation work, using traditional knowledges and novel approaches. In 2016 the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Indian Health Board created the Climate-Ready Tribes Initiative to support these efforts. The initiative has funded tribes, shared information nationally, and supported a learning cohort, resulting in pioneering work to protect health from climate hazards. We describe how two tribes-the Pala Band of Mission Indians and the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community-implemented their Climate-Ready Tribes Initiative projects, and we provide recommendations for making climate and health policy more effective for tribes. Lessons learned from the Climate-Ready Tribes Initiative can inform climate and health policy and practice nationwide.

When Rivers Were Trails: cultural expression in an indigenous video game

ABSTRACT When Rivers Were Trails is a 2D adventure game wherein The Oregon Trail meets Where the Water Tastes Like Wine through an Indigenous lens. The game depicts a myriad of cultures during the player’s journey from Minnesota to California amidst the impact of land allotment in the 1890s. Initiated by the Indian Land Tenure Foundation, the game was developed in collaboration with the Games for Entertainment and Learning Lab at Michigan State University thanks to support from the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians and the many Indigenous creatives who contributed design, art, music, and writing. Uniquely, When Rivers Were Trails is a sovereign game, meaning that it was directed and informed by Indigenous creatives who maintained the role of final decisions during development. Merging design research and close reading methods, this study sets out to describe the game’s design, development process in regards to the game writing, and the resulting themes which emerged as a result of engaging Indigenous writers in self-determined representations.

“Time Out of Mind”

This article analyzes the decision of the San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians, an unrecognized tribe from San Diego County, to petition for federal recognition through an investigation of the tribe's historical interactions with the non-Native world in colonial California. The San Luis Rey Band's pursuit of federal recognition through the Federal Acknowledgment Process is connected to a larger movement of unrecognized tribes across California to clarify their legal status, and in so doing to widen the possibilities for self-government and economic development and to secure their claims to traditional territories. Shifting the focus to coastal Southern California adds depth to our understanding of how colonization in California impacts contemporary struggles for federal recognition and draws attention to a tribal community's history and experience that is often overshadowed by those of other federally recognized tribes in the region.

I. Digging through the Old and Unearthing the New

Corey D. Blanchard’s essay on Native Americans during the mission period (1769–1833) finds early articles focused on Euro-American pioneers to the near exclusion of the Indigenous population of Southern California. When they do appear in early articles they are treated more as obstacles than as sentient beings. Racial bias or condescension is evident in articles published as late as 1953 and research was limited to Euro-American sources. Articles reflecting the New Social History turn of the late 1950s-1960s; they analyzed quantifiable evidence to reconstruct the daily life of Mission Indians. The cultural history turn of the 1990s brought analyses of material culture into the pages of the SCQ. New levels of analysis and computerized data emerged in the current decade, uncovering individual lives and Native American agency into a complex understanding of California’s Indigenous history, while early articles continue to serve as data sources and indicators of Euro-American/Native American relationships.

Reclaiming Indigenous Research in Higher Education ed. by Robin Starr Minthorn and Heather J. Shotton

Reviewed by: Reclaiming Indigenous Research in Higher Education ed. by Robin Starr Minthorn and Heather J. Shotton Sharon Stein Robin Starr Minthorn and Heather J. Shotton (Editors). Reclaiming Indigenous Research in Higher Education. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2018. 228 pp. Paperback: $34.95. ISBN 9780813588698 In their introduction to the edited volume, Reclaiming Indigenous Research in Higher Education, editors Robin Starr Zape-tah-hol-ah Minthorn (Kiowa/Apache/Umatilla/Nez Perce/Assiniboine) and Heather J. Shotton (Wichita/Kiowa/Cheyenne)1 frame their text as an effort to "reclaim our space in academia, to reclaim Indigenous research in higher education" (p. 2). In doing so, they intend to both hold up and extend existing Indigenous scholarship in the field. The book makes it clear that there is no singular approach to Indigenous research, and beyond speaking from their positions as members of diverse Indigenous nations, the contributors tackle multiple issues, employ distinct methods/methodologies, and emphasize different opportunities, offerings, and challenges of Indigenous research in and on higher education. Apart from simply providing a space to bring together the work of several Native American, Native Hawaiian, and Alaska Native higher education scholars, the book emphasizes the importance of relationality in Indigenous knowledge production. Rather than merely stating this as an orienting value, throughout the text the authors demonstrate the centrality of their relationships and responsibilities to each other, their research participants, their ancestors, and future generations. They also give thanks to the Indigenous education scholars who came before them, including Bryan McKinley Jones Brayboy (Lumbee), who offers a foreword to the book. The editors frame three common threads that run throughout the text: Indigenous voice and identity in research; Native higher education students making their own pathways to success; and Indigenizing spaces in higher education. In this review, I emphasize two different but related recurrent themes: tradition and innovation; and responsibility and relationship. I conclude by considering how non-Indigenous readers like myself might honor the work of the book's editors and contributors by reflexively examining our own roles and responsibilities in relation to the necessary, difficult, and unsettling work of decolonizing higher education research. Tradition and Innovation According to an unnamed contributor, "the process of reclaiming Indigenous research in higher education [is] what emerges when higher education meets grandma" (as cited by Shotton Minthorn, p. 208). Indeed, the wisdom of grandmothers, grandfathers, mothers, mothers-in-law, mentors, and other-than-human-kin are all cited as influences on the authors' work. Shotton and Minthorn also assert, "As we work to reclaim our spaces in higher education research through Indigenous Methodologies, we cannot be afraid to take our work in new directions" (p. 208). This means honoring ancestral knowledges while reframing them for the present; and taking from mainstream or "whitestream" (Grande, 2004) methodologies and theories what is useful, and leaving what is not. Rather than a commitment to any particular methodology or theory, this work is oriented by the imperative to serve one's kin and communities. Theresa Jean Stewart (San Luis Rey Band of Mission Indians, Gabrieliño/Tongva) describes producing quantitative research in a way that "coincided [End Page E-9] with [her] worldview as a Native woman" (p. 89). Stewart both employs and problematizes the uses of whitestream datasets for studying leadership development among American Indian and Alaska Native students. David Sanders (Ogala Sioux Tribe) and Matthew Van Alstine Makomenaw (Grand Traverse Bay Band of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians) also take up quantitative methods to address the success and pathways of students who start at Tribal Colleges and Universities (TCUs) and transfer to four-year schools. They emphasize the difficulty of gathering accurate data about Indigenous students from whitestream data sources, owing to the fact that this data often relies on self-reported identification of Indigeneity. The authors acknowledge that "Indian identification is a very important, contested, political ground" (p. 121), but nonetheless argue for the importance of verifying enrollment in, or other proof of descendance from, a state or federally recognized tribe in order to produce more relevant research. Meanwhile, Amanda R. Tachine (Navajo) uses the metaphor of a Navajo story rug to describe her research and writing process. She also...

Indigenous Agency in the Amazon: The Mojos in Liberal and Rubber-Boom Bolivia, 1842–1932

“On a hot day in May 1887, a group of Bolivian soldiers halted their march across a flat savanna laced by lakes and tributaries of the Amazon. They were taking ten indigenous prisoners back to their headquarters in Trinidad, the local capital, but stopped to administer several hundred lashes to each. The soldiers took special delight in whipping an eighty-year-old man before finishing him off with gunshots. They saw the old man, Andrés Guayocho, not as the pathetic figure who begged them for a drink of water before dying, but as the leader of a major indigenous rebellion. . . . The local government ruthlessly crushed Guayocho’s millenarian movement not so much because of its religious unorthodoxy, but because it deprived the white elite of the Mojo labor necessary for the extraction and export of rubber for the world market.”Now that he has our attention, Gary Van Valen uses it well. The Mojos lived in savannas along the Mamoré River as it flows toward Brazil. From 1682 onward, they congregated onto Jesuit missions in what later became the Department of Beni. Van Valen traces their trajectory through the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, particularly during the rubber boom (1875–1910) and its aftermath. He focuses on their agency in retaining their ethnic identity even as they accommodated the emerging Bolivian state. “Any attempt to renegotiate power relations is agency,” he writes, “from engagement in overt resistance such as a rebellion or millenarian movement, to the use of discourse, or language encoding a vision or plan for social relations. . . . By adapting to political and economic change, they remained Mojos.”In general, we know relatively little about western Amazonia during the century after 1787, when Jesuit missionaries were expelled from Spanish colonies. Van Valen provides a useful account of those “lost years.” By the 1860s, for example, several thousand Beni Indians worked for white patrones along the lower Madeira River and its tributaries—a generation before Indians in Peru, Ecuador, or Colombia underwent similar fates. Bolivian traders, borne by native paddlers, often made the round trip to Manaus loaded with agricultural products and returned with European manufactures. Until the 1880s, Van Valen writes, native people exercised considerable choice in escaping the tightening noose of taxation and repression in their homelands. After 1885, however, as the rubber boom quickened, their alternatives became much worse.And herein lies the problem with Van Valen’s view of agency. “There can be no doubt,” he writes, “that the former mission Indians of Beni suffered exploitation by the [whites] during the rubber boom—but it is equally true that the Indians were not helpless victims. They were constantly exercising their agency, looking out for their own best interests and choosing the best strategies for survival that their changing circumstances offered.” Of course, many people exercise some degree of choice within broader political, economic, and social conditions that lie completely beyond their control. But calling this kind of limited choice “agency” threatens to render the term analytically meaningless. It also ignores the millions who made a wrong choice—or no real choice at all—and disappeared from our analysis.Nonetheless, Van Valen has written a valuable book that should be widely read. It adds to our growing understanding of how groups like the Mojos endured forced labor, loss of land, oppressive taxation, and violent suppression during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The rubber boom was a needle’s eye through which they had to pass as they formulated their modern ethnic identity. Van Valen has given us another essential chapter in that story.

Mission Indians: demographic profile of the captaincy of Goiás, 1755-1835

Este artigo é um resumo do número de índios em missões no Centro-Oeste no fim do período colonial, quando os portugueses estavam preocupados em “civilizar e cristianizar” as nações indígenas “hostis” que eles tentaram instalar nas missões Luso-Brasileiras, sem muito sucesso devido a resistência dos povos indígenas ao trabalho forçado e tratamento como escravos nas missões. &#x0D; &#x0D; Palavras-chave: Aldeias cristãs. Jesuítas. Povos indígenas. Capitania de Goiás.&#x0D; &#x0D; Abstract: this article is a summary of the number of mission Indians in the Center West at the end of the colonial period, when the Portuguese were preoccupied in “civilizing and Christianizing” the “hostile” indigenous nations that they tried to install in Luso-Brazilian missions without great success due to the resistance of the indigenous peoples to forced labor and treatment like slaves in the missions.&#x0D; &#x0D; Keywords: Missions. Jesuits. Indigenous nations. Captaincy of Goiás

Ethnic Consciousness in Cultural Survival: The Morongo Band of Mission Indians and the Kickapoo Traditional Tribe of Texas

Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Peer Review Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn MailTo Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Elisabeth A. Mager, Heather Dashner Monk; Ethnic Consciousness in Cultural Survival: The Morongo Band of Mission Indians and the Kickapoo Traditional Tribe of Texas. American Indian Culture and Research Journal 1 January 2017; 41 (1): 47–72. doi: https://doi.org/10.17953/aicrj.41.1.mager Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search Dropdown Menu toolbar search search input Search input auto suggest Search

Pauma Band of Luiseno Mission Indians of the Pauma and Yuima Reservation v. State of CaliforniaCase Nos. 14-56104; 14-56105; 2015 U.S. App. LEXIS 18635 (United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit, October 26, 2015)

Gaming Law Review and EconomicsVol. 20, No. 2 CasesPauma Band of Luiseno Mission Indians of the Pauma and Yuima Reservation v. State of CaliforniaCase Nos. 14-56104; 14-56105; 2015 U.S. App. LEXIS 18635 (United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit, October 26, 2015)Published Online:23 Mar 2016https://doi.org/10.1089/glre.2016.20213AboutSectionsPDF/EPUB Permissions & CitationsPermissionsDownload CitationsTrack CitationsAdd to favorites Back To Publication ShareShare onFacebookTwitterLinked InRedditEmail FiguresReferencesRelatedDetails Volume 20Issue 2Mar 2016 InformationCopyright 2016, Mary Ann Liebert, Inc.To cite this article:Pauma Band of Luiseno Mission Indians of the Pauma and Yuima Reservation v. State of CaliforniaCase Nos. 14-56104; 14-56105; 2015 U.S. App. LEXIS 18635 (United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit, October 26, 2015).Gaming Law Review and Economics.Mar 2016.219-229.http://doi.org/10.1089/glre.2016.20213Published in Volume: 20 Issue 2: March 23, 2016PDF download

With and Without an Empire

Conventional wisdom has it that, in the eighteenth century, California’s mission Indians labored without recompense to support the Spanish military and other costs of imperial administration. This article challenges this conventional wisdom, arguing that it was not until the Spanish empire unraveled in the nineteenth century that Indians labored at missions with little compensation. Spain stopped subsidizing California in 1810, at which point the systematic non-payment of Christian Indians for goods supplied to the California military was implemented as an emergency measure. In 1825, independent Mexico finally sent a new governor to California, but military payroll was never reinstated in its entirety. Not surprisingly, most accounts of military confrontation between California Indians and combined mission/military forces date from the 1810 to 1824 period. By investigating an underutilized source—account books of exports and imports for four missions—the article explores two issues: first, the processes of cooptation inside missions up to 1809, and secondly, the way that Spain’s cessation of financing in 1810 affected the relationship with Indians.

Consider the Ravens

Eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century foreign literature on Alta California depicts the Hispanic population as indolent and inefficient at developing the region’s natural bounty, providing a justification for conquest. California’s early representation as an island conveyed connotations of escape and undeveloped paradise. The Black Legend reinforced the laziness trope. Spanish observers were defensive on the issues of leisure and labor, while Native American Pablo Tac described the unceasing labor of the mission Indians.

Helen Hunt Jackson, Amelia Stone Quinton, and the Mission Indians of California

Helen Hunt Jackson, the author of an 1883 government report and a book on the condition of California’s Mission Indians as well as the novel Ramona, came late to the cause of Indian reform. Others, including Amelia Stone Quinton, had earlier founded organizations such as the Women’s National Indian Association (WNIA) to pressure Congress for reform and to engage directly in assisting Native American peoples. Correspondence between Jackson and Quinton illuminate their different methods of and proposals for Indian reform, yet it was Jackson’s published work, based on research and direct observation, that inspired many WNIA members.

Sub-cultural acoustical perversions and deviations: Where sensory rituals inform transcendence

This study investigated the perversions (to the normative culture that the subculture comes in contact with) and perceptions of sound in various subcultures, specifically in the Barona Band of Mission Indians and tribal subsets of rave culture. Ethnographic approaches lead us to understand alteration of sounds as a means to create a space of transcendence and liminality. Specifically, we studied the Barona Band of Mission Indians and their use of silence and sound swallowing as acoustics. Similarly, at various rave cultures, acoustic overstimulation was perceived as a key ingredient to achieving similar forms of collective effervescence. This subculture engaged in discourse likening acoustics to a variety of creative metaphors. Both sound isolation and the unique sense-making processes and speech codes of the subcultures were key to the study. Above all, we investigated the alteration of acoustics within a socio-spiritual context. In an increasingly postmodern and globalized world of tenuous connections and synchronous communication we argued for a need to put a focus on community-based subcultures in order to understand our perceptions of sound in the contemporary cultural moment.

A Comparative Analysis of Indian Gaming in the United States

A Comparative Analysis of Indian Gaming in the United States William V. Ackerman (bio) and Rick L. Bunch (bio) The United States has witnessed a dramatic increase in legal gaming on Indian reservations since the 1987 landmark decision by the United States Supreme Court in California v. Cabazon Band of Mission Indians.1 Currently there are 240 Indian tribes operating more than 400 casinos and bingo halls in 28 states. Total gaming revenues reached $26.7 billion in 2008.2 Following the Cabazon decision, various states and the Nevada gaming interests strongly encouraged Congress to take legislative action to limit and regulate Indian gaming. In 1988, after a major legislative battle between Indian tribes, states, and the non-Indian gaming industry, Congress passed the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act (IGRA). Since the passage of that legislation, Indian gaming has been carried out under the rules and regulations incorporated in the Federal Indian Gaming Regulatory Act.3 Section 2701 sets out congressional findings regarding the need for the IGRA, in particular, the need for clear standards and regulations for the conduct of gaming on Indian lands and the promotion of tribal economic development, tribal self-sufficiency, and strong tribal government. Section 2701(5) provides tribes with “the exclusive right to regulate gaming activity on Indian lands if the gaming activity is not specifically prohibited by federal law and is conducted within a state which does not as a matter of criminal law and public policy prohibit such gaming activity.” The IGRA requires Indian tribes to negotiate tribal-state compacts with the state in which they are located to govern the conduct of Class III gaming (section 2710[d]). Previous research on Indian gaming in South Dakota discovered very restrictive and unfavorable tribal-state compacts that appear to border [End Page 50] on economic racism.4 This article expands this previous research by exploring the influence of tribal-state Indian gaming compacts for the Indian casinos located in the contiguous United States. The purpose is to describe the current state of the Indian gaming industry. For the states that have Class III Indian gaming we document the number of casinos, numbers of gaming devices, and gaming revenues. We also provide an in-depth analysis of common practices in compact negotiation and how tribal-state compacts vary geographically. States are ranked based on the degree of control that they attempt to exercise over sovereign Native American tribes. Concern is raised over the growing interest by certain states to require greater revenue sharing from the tribes’ gaming operations. We find that the IGRA does not fairly regulate Indian gaming and does not protect Native American sovereignty, and we suggest changes to provide a more equitable policy to deal with Native American gaming operations. The Growth and Diffusion of Indian Gaming In 1989 only Nevada and Atlantic City allowed casino gambling. Following the Cabazon decision, Congress passed the IGRA in 1988, and by 1994 ten states allowed casino gaming and twenty-five others had some form of tribal gaming.5 Revenues from tribal gaming have demonstrated continuous increase. In 1988 tribal gaming generated $121 million. By 1998 this figure had increased to $8.5 billion and has increased continuously since to reach $26.7 billion in 2008 (fig. 1). These data have been compiled from gaming operation audited financial statements received by the National Indian Gaming Commission through May 11, 2009, and adjusted to reflect final annual revenues published in the Indian Gaming Industry Report: 2009–2010.6 In 2008 there were estimated to be more than 440 Indian casino operations in 28 states. Twenty-four of these states operate Class III gaming and are the subject of this research. The Location and Economic Impact of Indian Gaming Prior to California v. Cabazon the United States witnessed an increase in gaming, especially high-stakes bingo operations on Indian reservations. This increased activity began to attract the attention of the states and led to attempts to prohibit or control Indian gaming. The Seminole [End Page 51] Tribe in Florida and the Oneida Tribe in Wisconsin sought to open high-stakes bingo operations on their reservations. The states of Florida and Wisconsin attempted to block such activity on...