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Tribe
Plans Casino Resort Near Yosemite by
Kevin Fagan That long, lonesome ride to Yosemite National Park could get mighty crowded soon -- with cars full of tourists with slot machines, not nature, on their minds. The Picayune Rancheria tribe of Chukchansi Indians plans to begin construction next month on a gigantic, $167 million casino and hotel resort just outside the park border. The towering complex of blinking neon lights will sprawl across 40 acres at the little town of Coarsegold on Highway 41, the main route heading to the southern entrance of the park. Being about 25 miles from the park, it would be the last big thing you'd see before reaching historic Wawona and then Yosemite's emerald valley of granite and waterfalls. This sits just fine with some folks who don't mind the jackpot of jobs and tourism the casino could draw to Coarsegold, a rural outpost of 7,000 people that is the closest thing nearby resembling a city. But it sounds awful to others, notably several neighbors who will soon have soaring walls and lines of cars, not trees and the Sierra, as their main front-door scenery. "So many of us moved out here because it's so nice and quiet and rural, and plopping a big casino in the middle of it all would ruin the flavor of the area,'' said Nancy Flynn, whose house sits next to the vast, empty lot where backhoes will soon start busily chuffing and digging. "It seems like the community should have a say in a big project like this, but then you get into the whole sovereign nation thing, and there's really nothing you can do.'' Since the Chukchansis, like other federally recognized tribes, constitute an independent nation, they need only notify the neighboring communities of their plans and have no legal obligation to bow to any local complaints. But the 1,043-member tribe and its resort's builder say not to worry. "The Chukchansis are very excited, and they are determined to do this project in the best way possible for everyone,'' said Patrick Minchey of Cascade Entertainment, the Tiburon company that will help the tribe build its spread and then manage it. "It will be wonderful." It certainly promises to try to be that. The tribe's plans so far include a 200-room, five-story hotel and a casino with the full array of slot machines, blackjack tables and other Las Vegas-style games allowed under Proposition 1A, which overwhelmingly passed in March. As many as 2,000 one-armed bandits are on the drawing board, and the complex -- scheduled for completion by next May -- would be crafted with an outdoorsy granite exterior to echo the look of Yosemite. The resort would also sport a 150- seat entertainment lounge, a 500- seat buffet and several restaurants. Liquor would be served in and out of the gaming rooms. The 1,600- space parking lot would offer special spots for big recreational vehicle rigs. It would be sure to draw notice, and thus probably a lot of business from the 2.2 million tourists and hikers every year who tool up Highway 41 to Yosemite and the surrounding forests. And that will be good or bad, depending on the viewpoint. On one hand, the tribe -- which like most, has never had much money -- intends to use income from the casino for badly needed housing, education and health care. But on the flip side, there is little legal requirement that the tribe ensure its casino does not become an eyesore or problem for the community. That, under state regulations, is mostly a matter of good faith by the tribe. And there has been plenty of that expressed by the tribe as it outlined its latest plans in community meetings, but critics would prefer firmer guarantees. "This project is a perfect example of how Proposition 1A failed to ensure the protection of the civil rights and the property rights of the citizens of California,'' said Cheryl Schmit, co-director of the antigambling group Stand Up For California. Schmit has asked the state Department of Justice to look into the ownership status of the property, saying she believes the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs years ago did not give it the proper designation the tribe needs to build a casino. The Bureau of Indian Affairs disagrees, and the Justice Department is still considering her request. Since first floating the casino idea in 1998, Chukchansi leaders have presented their plans before several meetings of up to 100 residents of Coarsegold, a historic Gold Rush town that is an unincorporated area of Madera County. Some who attended -- the last big meeting was in April -- voiced fears over the crowds and noise the casino might bring, and the demand on the local water system, police and fire services. Tribal leaders tried to reassure the residents, saying the resort will draw its water from wells and a recycling system, and promising to kick in funding for local services and to build special new roads to the casino to route traffic out of neighborhoods. They added that 1,300 new jobs will be created at the complex, and plenty of the tourists pulling slot handles will also want to stop at Coarsegold's diminutive downtown to browse its gift shops and galleries. Outside of the meeting hall in Coarsegold, however, the tribe isn't talking. "There will always be opposition to anything, but everything is looking pretty positive so far overall,'' said a woman who answered the phone at the Picayune Rancheria office and would give her name only as "Janice.'' "But we really don't have anything to tell right now.'' Local non-Indian community leaders say they realize there is little they can do to fight a tribe's plans on land it controls, so they are trying to focus on whatever mutual benefit there could be to lighting up the forestland skies with neon. "If this becomes a destination resort, I could see an economic benefit,'' said Madera County Supervisor Gary Gilbert, who represents the Coarsegold area. "But we'll have to see. We have a lot of questions." |