Post by Okwes on Feb 9, 2006 11:28:04 GMT -5
Spirited leader Ken Hansen steps down after battling for the Samish
for decades
BY ELAINE WILSON American staff writer
www.goanacortes.com/articles/2006/02/08/news/news02.txt
Ken Hansen, like his mother, hardly remembers a time when he wasn't
involved in the Samish Indian Nation's business.
Mary Hansen was only 11 in 1933 when her father became Samish Tribal
chairman and she started typing tribal resolutions for him. She has
worked for the tribe in various capacities for much of her life.
After Ken Hansen was born in 1952, she brought him along. He said he
grew up playing under the table while she attended council meetings.
With such a start, it's not surprising that he was only 18 when he
was first elected to the Samish Tribal Council, starting a remarkable
36-year career as a tribal consultant, council member, staff member,
treasurer and chairman. During those years, he was a major force
behind remarkable victories over a federal bureaucracy that
accidentally dropped the Samish from the roll of recognized tribes,
then declared the tribe extinct. It took 30 years of litigation to
restore federal recognition. Now, almost 10 years after prevailing,
the Samish are still fighting to restore treaty rights.
As intoxicating as the victories have been, they were won at a great
personal cost.
"The price for this hasn't just been paid by the Samish people or
tribe, but also my family," he said.
Hansen ended his official career on Oct. 15, when he resigned as
Samish Tribal Chairman.
"It's fair to say that my overall health has deteriorated over the
last four years and I can no longer carry out my duties as chairman,"
he said.
Although he was critically ill and hospitalized shortly after his
resignation, he is back on Fidalgo Island and living on his own. He
said there are things he needs to accomplish for his family and his
tribe before he will be ready to join his ancestors.
Hansen was born in Seattle and attended school there, but his family
was always pulled toward the Samish homeland, where tribal elders
patiently taught him traditional Samish ways. He never intended to
work full time in government.
"I had a silly notion that I would consult part of the year and gill
net part of the year. It never happened. I got pulled into the
lifelong abyss of fighting the government on recognition," he
said. "I didn't realize what the cost would be. It became my life
work. It became my thing."
Hansen's voice betrays bitterness that his quest was to confirm a
legal relationship that already existed.
"I spent my life correcting a clerical error," he said.
A Bureau of Indian Affairs clerk omitted the Samish Tribe when
retyping a list of recognized tribes in 1969. The error went
unnoticed until the tribe tried to intervene in the Boldt fishing
rights case a few years later. Instead of fixing the error,
bureaucrats called it policy. A tribe that gave the U.S. government
its land in return for hunting and fishing rights suddenly had
nothing.
Hansen said that the pain and slights endured by the gentle Samish
elders moved him to persevere.
"They had been made to feel bad about themselves by the government
unlawfully taking away our recognition. Many never saw the day the
Samish prevailed," he said. "The common word they used was `dirty.'
These were high-class people, so full of love."
These elders endured racial epithets, including a variation of the
French word, "savage," which is the Native American equivalent of
the "N" word.
"It was adopted by other cultures as an insult. It meant an Indian
without a home, a man without a country," Hansen said. "These old
people, they endured that and survived it. Now you had the government
telling them that they weren't Indians. Setting that right was one of
the things that motivated me."
Russel Barsh, a Harvard-trained lawyer who helped the Samish in
court, said Hansen fought the good fight.
"Ken was the conscience of Samish for 30 years. He practiced the old
Coast Salish tradition of being very, very meticulous about doing
things with dignity and treating people with dignity. In the rough
and tumble of tribal and federal politics, he always took the high
road — even if he liked to tease people a little while he did it,"
Barsh said.
Hansen was also a canny and formidable opponent. He started his
career as a consultant for the Quileute Tribe, where he worked on
grant writing, economic development, land acquisition and boundary
disputes. During that time, the Quileutes succeeded in getting back
land that the National Park Service took at La Push.
In 1975, Hansen was appointed by the U.S. Senate to the American
Indian Policy Review Committee to look into issues of landless and
unrecognized tribes. He used every opportunity to learn. He
considered files left on desks as fair game, and said he could get
papers into a copy machine and back in seconds. He learned to read
documents upside down and backwards across a desk. Occasionally,
anonymous friends dropped files into his briefcase.
He attended the National Congress of American Indians and U.S. Senate
hearings on recognition.
"It was at a time when the administration wanted to run away from
doing anything with unrecognized tribes. We got them to adopt some
regulations," he said.
Hansen met Barsh at a treaty rights conference at the University of
Washington in about 1980.
"We found that we had a great passion for law and history and mainly
the truth. We just hit it off," Hansen said. Hansen showed Barsh the
tribe's case.
"He said, `Yep. You're being screwed.' We figured out how to fight it
together," Hansen said.
A pivotal moment came in about 1982, when the two met Assistant
Secretary of the Interior for Indian Affairs Ross Swimmer, who told
them, "From what my staff tells me, you're extinct."
"Ken lunged at him across the table," Barsh said.
Hansen said the words hit him like a slap in the face. Barsh
restrained him.
"We were just devastated by those words," Hansen said.
Afterward, Hansen bitterly said, "We'd be better off to file for
endangered species status."
Barsh replied, "Let's do it." Two days later, they filed a petition
with the Department of Wildlife requesting endangered species status
for the Samish. Barsh even submitted a map of their habitat.
"And you know what? We qualified," Hansen said, eyes gleaming. "They
didn't know what to do with us because we met some criteria."
The story was mostly ignored in the United States, but generated a
lot of attention in Europe. The result was a morale boost for the
long battle ahead.
"Sometimes you've got to be outrageous," Hansen said. "It gave us
confidence we could do anything we had to do."
Hansen estimates that he made about 40 trips to Washington, D.C. —
some extended, others redeye round trips so he could work the next
day.
"That was rough on the body," he said.
It also cost him his marriage. His wife, Deborah, and stepdaughters,
Krista May Davis and Keshema May, often had to do without him.
"There were times that I should have been home with my family and
couldn't. They've been very understanding and loving about it. There
were times I wasn't home for them," he said.
"Deborah had to do without a husband, even when I was in town. I
truly regret that," he said. "But in the same breath, what a ride!
How many people can say they helped bring a tribe back from near
extinction? What a challenge. With Russel Barsh's help, with other
people's help, we won."
Hansen said the future brings new challenges.
"I'm concerned that the Bush administration is laying plans to look
at administratively terminating tribes," he said. "If there is no
money to implement tribal programs, they are effectively eliminated,"
he said.
A decade after rerecognition, legal steps have not been taken to
restore treaty rights.
"It's incomprehensible how some of it is still going on today," he
said.
Worse yet, several other tribes oppose restoration of Samish treaty
rights.
"We still have neighboring tribes who are battling us down to the
last bloody fish on treaty rights and there's no reason for it except
greed," Hansen said.
The Supreme Court recently refused to hear the other tribes' appeal
of a 9th Circuit Court's ruling supporting Samish treaty rights, he
said.
"Now they have new motions to delay and stall. It's time to make
peace. It's long overdue, actually. To continue to fight at this time
is just greedy and cruel. It's cruelty on their part. Every day they
do that takes them farther away from the traditional teachings of
culture, and that's a very sad thing to watch," he said.
The Samish have worked hard not to impact other tribes.
"We've tried to do things in a way that wouldn't hurt them. I'm
beginning to have some regrets," he said. "With Swinomish we've
chosen not to to add a casino so far. For doing that we've continued
to get slapped in the head on treaty rights. I've passionately asked
the council to do things that didn't hurt them. But we have as much
right to the treaty resources as they do."
The Samish have had to take new tribes money, rather than share the
resources for existing tribes. With its small income, the tribe has
acquired land at Campbell Lake and Weaverling Spit — a change with
great meaning.
"They've got something to start with. They're not landless anymore,"
he said.
He said he's proud of the tribal archives and hopes to see it develop
into a museum, with protected artifacts and reproductions made using
traditional techniques. He helped found the Center for Coast Salish
Studies, which prepares tribal youth for careers in science.
Hansen served on the Samish Tribal Council from 1970 to 1974 and then
as chairman in 1978. After 10 years, he returned to consulting and
dabbled in business development, but he lacked the killer instinct to
get rich.
"I've got to live with myself. I'm cursed by my own ethics," he said.
In 1998, he again ran for chairman, then reorganized tribal
government and oversaw economic development and efforts to acquire
land. He spent a total of 16 years as chairman.
Anacortes Mayor Dean Maxwell said that the two governments have
worked well together to benefit the whole community.
"I've always found Ken to be someone who is extremely wise and
thoughtful. We've had good discussions," Maxwell said.
"Ken's been involved in just about every decision made in the last
seven or eight years. He's really been a guiding light for us," said
Tom Wooten, who took over as Samish Tribal Chairman in October.
Wooten has worked closely with Hansen for a number of years and said
he shares many of his ideals. Barsh said Hansen leaves big shoes to
fill.
"He maintained a tenor of dignity and that's hard to follow. He
placed a great deal of faith in Tom carrying on in the same way,"
Barsh said.
Hansen hopes that the Samish will continue to follow the teachings he
learned from the elders.
"I've tried to give the tribal council as much of my knowledge and
skills as I can. I hope they can use them wisely as they move the
tribe into the future," he said. "Let their mistakes be small and
their victories be large."
He hopes that the knowledge will be of value. He said that the key is
to show respect for the ancestors and tribal traditions.
"If in your dealings you can satisfy the ancestors, then all will be
well," he said.
for decades
BY ELAINE WILSON American staff writer
www.goanacortes.com/articles/2006/02/08/news/news02.txt
Ken Hansen, like his mother, hardly remembers a time when he wasn't
involved in the Samish Indian Nation's business.
Mary Hansen was only 11 in 1933 when her father became Samish Tribal
chairman and she started typing tribal resolutions for him. She has
worked for the tribe in various capacities for much of her life.
After Ken Hansen was born in 1952, she brought him along. He said he
grew up playing under the table while she attended council meetings.
With such a start, it's not surprising that he was only 18 when he
was first elected to the Samish Tribal Council, starting a remarkable
36-year career as a tribal consultant, council member, staff member,
treasurer and chairman. During those years, he was a major force
behind remarkable victories over a federal bureaucracy that
accidentally dropped the Samish from the roll of recognized tribes,
then declared the tribe extinct. It took 30 years of litigation to
restore federal recognition. Now, almost 10 years after prevailing,
the Samish are still fighting to restore treaty rights.
As intoxicating as the victories have been, they were won at a great
personal cost.
"The price for this hasn't just been paid by the Samish people or
tribe, but also my family," he said.
Hansen ended his official career on Oct. 15, when he resigned as
Samish Tribal Chairman.
"It's fair to say that my overall health has deteriorated over the
last four years and I can no longer carry out my duties as chairman,"
he said.
Although he was critically ill and hospitalized shortly after his
resignation, he is back on Fidalgo Island and living on his own. He
said there are things he needs to accomplish for his family and his
tribe before he will be ready to join his ancestors.
Hansen was born in Seattle and attended school there, but his family
was always pulled toward the Samish homeland, where tribal elders
patiently taught him traditional Samish ways. He never intended to
work full time in government.
"I had a silly notion that I would consult part of the year and gill
net part of the year. It never happened. I got pulled into the
lifelong abyss of fighting the government on recognition," he
said. "I didn't realize what the cost would be. It became my life
work. It became my thing."
Hansen's voice betrays bitterness that his quest was to confirm a
legal relationship that already existed.
"I spent my life correcting a clerical error," he said.
A Bureau of Indian Affairs clerk omitted the Samish Tribe when
retyping a list of recognized tribes in 1969. The error went
unnoticed until the tribe tried to intervene in the Boldt fishing
rights case a few years later. Instead of fixing the error,
bureaucrats called it policy. A tribe that gave the U.S. government
its land in return for hunting and fishing rights suddenly had
nothing.
Hansen said that the pain and slights endured by the gentle Samish
elders moved him to persevere.
"They had been made to feel bad about themselves by the government
unlawfully taking away our recognition. Many never saw the day the
Samish prevailed," he said. "The common word they used was `dirty.'
These were high-class people, so full of love."
These elders endured racial epithets, including a variation of the
French word, "savage," which is the Native American equivalent of
the "N" word.
"It was adopted by other cultures as an insult. It meant an Indian
without a home, a man without a country," Hansen said. "These old
people, they endured that and survived it. Now you had the government
telling them that they weren't Indians. Setting that right was one of
the things that motivated me."
Russel Barsh, a Harvard-trained lawyer who helped the Samish in
court, said Hansen fought the good fight.
"Ken was the conscience of Samish for 30 years. He practiced the old
Coast Salish tradition of being very, very meticulous about doing
things with dignity and treating people with dignity. In the rough
and tumble of tribal and federal politics, he always took the high
road — even if he liked to tease people a little while he did it,"
Barsh said.
Hansen was also a canny and formidable opponent. He started his
career as a consultant for the Quileute Tribe, where he worked on
grant writing, economic development, land acquisition and boundary
disputes. During that time, the Quileutes succeeded in getting back
land that the National Park Service took at La Push.
In 1975, Hansen was appointed by the U.S. Senate to the American
Indian Policy Review Committee to look into issues of landless and
unrecognized tribes. He used every opportunity to learn. He
considered files left on desks as fair game, and said he could get
papers into a copy machine and back in seconds. He learned to read
documents upside down and backwards across a desk. Occasionally,
anonymous friends dropped files into his briefcase.
He attended the National Congress of American Indians and U.S. Senate
hearings on recognition.
"It was at a time when the administration wanted to run away from
doing anything with unrecognized tribes. We got them to adopt some
regulations," he said.
Hansen met Barsh at a treaty rights conference at the University of
Washington in about 1980.
"We found that we had a great passion for law and history and mainly
the truth. We just hit it off," Hansen said. Hansen showed Barsh the
tribe's case.
"He said, `Yep. You're being screwed.' We figured out how to fight it
together," Hansen said.
A pivotal moment came in about 1982, when the two met Assistant
Secretary of the Interior for Indian Affairs Ross Swimmer, who told
them, "From what my staff tells me, you're extinct."
"Ken lunged at him across the table," Barsh said.
Hansen said the words hit him like a slap in the face. Barsh
restrained him.
"We were just devastated by those words," Hansen said.
Afterward, Hansen bitterly said, "We'd be better off to file for
endangered species status."
Barsh replied, "Let's do it." Two days later, they filed a petition
with the Department of Wildlife requesting endangered species status
for the Samish. Barsh even submitted a map of their habitat.
"And you know what? We qualified," Hansen said, eyes gleaming. "They
didn't know what to do with us because we met some criteria."
The story was mostly ignored in the United States, but generated a
lot of attention in Europe. The result was a morale boost for the
long battle ahead.
"Sometimes you've got to be outrageous," Hansen said. "It gave us
confidence we could do anything we had to do."
Hansen estimates that he made about 40 trips to Washington, D.C. —
some extended, others redeye round trips so he could work the next
day.
"That was rough on the body," he said.
It also cost him his marriage. His wife, Deborah, and stepdaughters,
Krista May Davis and Keshema May, often had to do without him.
"There were times that I should have been home with my family and
couldn't. They've been very understanding and loving about it. There
were times I wasn't home for them," he said.
"Deborah had to do without a husband, even when I was in town. I
truly regret that," he said. "But in the same breath, what a ride!
How many people can say they helped bring a tribe back from near
extinction? What a challenge. With Russel Barsh's help, with other
people's help, we won."
Hansen said the future brings new challenges.
"I'm concerned that the Bush administration is laying plans to look
at administratively terminating tribes," he said. "If there is no
money to implement tribal programs, they are effectively eliminated,"
he said.
A decade after rerecognition, legal steps have not been taken to
restore treaty rights.
"It's incomprehensible how some of it is still going on today," he
said.
Worse yet, several other tribes oppose restoration of Samish treaty
rights.
"We still have neighboring tribes who are battling us down to the
last bloody fish on treaty rights and there's no reason for it except
greed," Hansen said.
The Supreme Court recently refused to hear the other tribes' appeal
of a 9th Circuit Court's ruling supporting Samish treaty rights, he
said.
"Now they have new motions to delay and stall. It's time to make
peace. It's long overdue, actually. To continue to fight at this time
is just greedy and cruel. It's cruelty on their part. Every day they
do that takes them farther away from the traditional teachings of
culture, and that's a very sad thing to watch," he said.
The Samish have worked hard not to impact other tribes.
"We've tried to do things in a way that wouldn't hurt them. I'm
beginning to have some regrets," he said. "With Swinomish we've
chosen not to to add a casino so far. For doing that we've continued
to get slapped in the head on treaty rights. I've passionately asked
the council to do things that didn't hurt them. But we have as much
right to the treaty resources as they do."
The Samish have had to take new tribes money, rather than share the
resources for existing tribes. With its small income, the tribe has
acquired land at Campbell Lake and Weaverling Spit — a change with
great meaning.
"They've got something to start with. They're not landless anymore,"
he said.
He said he's proud of the tribal archives and hopes to see it develop
into a museum, with protected artifacts and reproductions made using
traditional techniques. He helped found the Center for Coast Salish
Studies, which prepares tribal youth for careers in science.
Hansen served on the Samish Tribal Council from 1970 to 1974 and then
as chairman in 1978. After 10 years, he returned to consulting and
dabbled in business development, but he lacked the killer instinct to
get rich.
"I've got to live with myself. I'm cursed by my own ethics," he said.
In 1998, he again ran for chairman, then reorganized tribal
government and oversaw economic development and efforts to acquire
land. He spent a total of 16 years as chairman.
Anacortes Mayor Dean Maxwell said that the two governments have
worked well together to benefit the whole community.
"I've always found Ken to be someone who is extremely wise and
thoughtful. We've had good discussions," Maxwell said.
"Ken's been involved in just about every decision made in the last
seven or eight years. He's really been a guiding light for us," said
Tom Wooten, who took over as Samish Tribal Chairman in October.
Wooten has worked closely with Hansen for a number of years and said
he shares many of his ideals. Barsh said Hansen leaves big shoes to
fill.
"He maintained a tenor of dignity and that's hard to follow. He
placed a great deal of faith in Tom carrying on in the same way,"
Barsh said.
Hansen hopes that the Samish will continue to follow the teachings he
learned from the elders.
"I've tried to give the tribal council as much of my knowledge and
skills as I can. I hope they can use them wisely as they move the
tribe into the future," he said. "Let their mistakes be small and
their victories be large."
He hopes that the knowledge will be of value. He said that the key is
to show respect for the ancestors and tribal traditions.
"If in your dealings you can satisfy the ancestors, then all will be
well," he said.