The Seminole Tribe of Florida fought the U.S. Army in the 1800s and resisted
forced migration to Oklahoma. A century later, they rescued themselves from
poverty by becoming the first tribe to venture into the gambling business.
Now is the time for an ambitious new challenge _ being the first American
Indian tribe to buy a global company. The Seminoles finished their $965
million purchase of Hard Rock International's restaurants, hotels and
related businesses from U.K.-based The Rank Group PLC on March 5. Its 3,300
members are now in the position to add to their already impressive wealth.
But the acquisition also speaks to something deeper, a respect for an
ancestry of "unconquered warriors" whose kin are motivated by history and
preserving their culture. "I don't think the measure of how much money comes
in to the tribe is the benchmark," tribe Vice Chairman Max Osceola said. "I
think the measurement is what you do with it. Money only buys convenience.
It doesn't buy character." American Indian tribes are profiting from
gambling, and Florida is where it all began. The Seminoles became the first
U.S. tribe to offer high-stakes gambling in 1979, when they opened a bingo
hall in Hollywood, Fla. The bingo hall survived several court challenges,
and in 1988, Congress passed the Indian Gaming Regulatory Act, which
established federal regulatory authority and standards. Since then, Indian
gaming has greatly expanded. It generated $22.6 billion in revenue in 2005,
up 14.6 percent from the previous year, according to the Indian Gaming
Industry Report by Alan Meister, an economist with Analysis Group. Florida's
tribes _ the Seminoles and the Miccosukee Tribe of Indians _ placed sixth
among the highest grossing states with more than $1.26 billion in revenue in
2005 _ up 36.1 percent from 2004, the study showed. The Seminoles account
for a large chunk of the state's Indian gaming revenue, and 90 percent of
their budget comes from gambling. They have seven casinos, including
thriving Hard Rock Hotel and Casinos in Hollywood and Tampa.
Indian tribes do not pay corporate income taxes on tribal revenue. But for
their Hard Rock deal, the Seminoles created a separate taxpaying corporation
to own and manage Hard Rock that's subject to public disclosures. "Entering
the commercial arena would require them to disclose more information that
they already do and that's a quantum leap for many tribes," said David Katz,
gaming and lodging analyst for CIBC World Markets.
The tribe's likeliest move toward expanding Hard Rock will probably be into
commercial markets where gambling is allowed, such as Atlantic City, Katz
said. And Osceola said other gaming tribes have contacted the Seminoles to
see if they can use the Hard Rock name at their facilities.
These moves have the potential to increase the tribe's revenue, which would
only mean more prosperity for its members. But where does all that money go?
The road cuts a winding path toward the north. Buzzards swoop down and pick
at a carcass, forcing cars to swerve onto soft shoulders that give way to
canals. Cows graze in the midmorning sun, as white egrets perch on mangroves
lining the canals. In the distance stand stately cypress trees, a reminder
of the location _ Florida's Everglades.
A sign welcomes motorists to the 35,000-acre Big Cypress Seminole Indian
Reservation, established in 1936.
The Seminoles spent decades fighting the U.S. Army, and fled south to the
Everglades to avoid the forced migration known as the Trail of Tears in
1830. President Tyler ordered the end of military actions against the
Seminoles in May 1842, and the tribe never surrendered to the U.S. Army.
The Seminoles settled in the Everglades, and were mired in poverty for
decades. Tribal elders recall days when they had to hunt their own food and
lived without utilities.
The tribe sold tax-free tobacco products while also raising cattle and
growing citrus. Still, it was gambling that significantly increased the
members' yearly dividend, which the tribe won't publicly discuss. The
Associated Press reported in 2003 that each Seminole receives $42,000 a year
_ before the two Florida Hard Rock hotels and casinos got off the ground.
At a glance, the Big Cypress reservation looks like any small town. There's
a school and a day care, a gymnasium and a government building.
But there are also signals this is not a regular town. There's a long
airstrip, and a hangar holding a private jet and helicopters. Just east,
next to an abandoned bingo hall, sits an air conditioned tent housing about
40-plus slot machines. A tourist attraction allows visitors to see alligator
wrestling and journey through the Everglades on airboats and swamp buggies.
This reservation and others in the state are the final destinations for the
tribe's money. They govern themselves and pay for health services,
education, housing and public safety with a combination of tribal money and
federal assistance. But the federal involvement also leads to frequent
clashes with the government.
"Today we don't have military wars, but we have to fight what I call paper
bullets," Osceola said.
Terry Porter is principal at the Ahfachkee School, where about 150 students
from kindergarten through 12th grade learn reading, writing, math, science.
But they also require daily cultural classes, held outside under chickee
huts, where students plant crops, weave clothing, cook and learn other tasks
that fall into the Seminole tradition.
About 20 percent of the school's funding comes from the federal Bureau of
Indian Education, with the rest coming from the Seminoles. The school is
getting two new portable classrooms because of an expected rise in
enrollment.
Porter, 42, says the students are receptive to learning about the culture,
but it's a challenge in an era where technology and media pervade everyday
life.
"It's real important that we do help our children step into that modern
world, but at the same time try to help them understand to never forget
where you came from, never forget what your people went through to get you
where you're at today," Porter said.
"It's hard though because a lot of these children will not know some of
those hard times," he added. "It's kind of like getting this inheritance so
to speak, but there are people even today who know what it was like to say,
`I remember when the tribe was really struggling to stay afloat.'"
Down the road from the school is a construction site for a new public safety
building, and improvements are planned at the reservation's entertainment
complex.
There's also a museum, a historical preservation office and archive of
Seminole cultural artifacts, which are carefully overseen by Tina Osceola, a
tribe member who lives in Naples and is not related to the tribal leader.
She is considered a rising star in the tribe, which is seeking qualified
members to lead its future business efforts. She says the tribe's culture is
not disappearing with its growing wealth, but it's the responsibility of the
membership to pass along the meaning of Seminole life to members who may not
have a historical perspective.
"Compartmentalizing who a Seminole is, to where you have to be traditional
or modern, or full-blood or half-breed, or whatever those labels are, is
damaging," she said. "We have to make conscious effort at not doing that to
our own people by saying, `You weren't raised with us, you don't know what
its like to be a Seminole.'"
However, with such evolution and wealth come certain dangers. For instance,
she sees a time when the reservation will have homes in gated communities,
to keep crime out.
Max Osceola, meanwhile, said some members
told him they removed tribal
stickers from their cars, citing instances where motorists tried to run them
off the road.
"There are a lot of prejudiced people in the world who hate Seminoles
already," Max Osceola said, citing what he feels is jealousy over the
tribe's wealth and Hard Rock purchase "that will just add fuel to the fire."
Still, some members say the tribe's success has created a renewed sense of
pride, an entire tribe saying it's their time to become fully
self-sufficient and control their own future.
When the Hard Rock deal was first announced in December, Max Osceola said
the following: "Our ancestors sold Manhattan for trinkets. Today, with the
acquisition of the Hard Rock Cafe, we're going to buy Manhattan back one
hamburger at a time."
Months later, that sentiment remains strong, at least from Tina Osceola's
perspective.
"You could sit and talk to a group of kids and they're going to have that
same mentality that Max has … and that's that 'We're Seminole, we survived
against all odds, and screw you if you don't like it,'" she said. "That is
an overriding sentiment that goes above all else."
