Bearskin's Gamble

The Wyandottes claim that, in the Treaty of 1855, they never ceded three parcels of land given to them by the Delaware -- the Wyandottes say they still own them. The state argues that the 1855 treaty transferred all the Wyandotte land to the U.S., and that when the Wyandot tribe voluntarily dissolved itself, the ceded lands were surveyed into sections and given to former Wyandot tribe members.

The court files contain a photocopy of the five-page 1855 Treaty -- and there is no mention of the gifted lands being ceded.

But it's not just the Unified Government and major companies such as International Paper and GM that are defendants. More than 1,300 property owners live or run businesses on the now-disputed land. Bearskin hopes that the public outcry in response to his daring suit forces the state's hand.

Though the Wyandottes have said they have no interest in taking anyone's home away, the suit means that the titles to all these homes are now in question. Homeowners will have more difficulty selling their homes, and they may have a tougher time refinancing their mortgages.

Wyandotte County homeowners can partly thank Florida businessman Ginsburg for their current anxiety. "We've known [we owned this land] for a long, long time, but we didn't have enough money to take it to court," says Bearskin.

"It is bold. It also is a product of their frustration," says Walker, the Unified Government's attorney. "There's no blame here. The tribe is frustrated."

Bearskin isn't the only one with a claim to the land. Barbara Bailey's family has lived in a handsome one-story house on Stewart Street since her mother was six -- back in the 1920s. Bailey owns the home now, and her niece lives there. Twice this summer, she and half a dozen other homeowners have met to discuss the lawsuit. "There's so many people involved in this, so many big companies involved, I don't think it's going to get to where I'm worried about losing my property," she says. But Bailey and her fellow homeowners aren't taking any chances. Last month, they wrote a letter to the Unified Government urging it to defend all the homeowners in a class-action suit.

Bailey says a casino would be good for the county, but she's not sure the tribe's approach is the best one. "The more I find out about the problem, I can understand why they're doing it. I don't agree with it, because I'm affected by it."

The Reverend C.L. Bachus of Mt. Zion Baptist Church, who has spoken publicly against the suit, wonders what the Wyandottes hope to gain. Right now, he says, the community is taking a wait-and-see attitude -- they know it could take years before this lawsuit runs its course. "The people who are victims of those sections of land shouldn't have to be responsible for straightening that out. I don't think a suit like that, in the final analysis, can go anywhere. I don't think they have a good leg to stand on."

But Bearskin soldiers on.

"The chief is at this when he should be retired and enjoying his grandkids," Walker says. He describes Bearskin -- like virtually everyone does -- as a man of conviction and integrity who's truly trying to take care of his people. Still, "They've inflicted some pain and anguish on some people who don't deserve it," Walker says.

"The best ally the Wyandottes have had in this process has been us," he adds. "Yet we're the ones looking down the barrel of an expensive piece of litigation.

"With this much opposition from parties who had been helping him, Bearskin might have relented a little and given up on the Masonic project. After all, he said he didn't want to be there.But he pressed ahead. Tribal members began rehabbing the building, and when the court issued an injunction stopping them from making changes to the historic structure, they built a long, modular shed next door to the temple.

Inside, the carpet is festive with colorful swirls and triangles and circles. A few security cameras hide behind black domes in the ceiling, and a row of electrical outlets rises out of the floor. In the back is a bar edged in leather where the Jenny Jones show plays.

The modular annex is a temporary casino site -- an alternative to the Masonic Temple, which itself would be a temporary site, until the tribe finds some other place for its casino.

This spring, Bearskin had 200 slot machines shipped from California to his shed, but he had to ship them back a few weeks later because the tribe had violated federal regulations that require the Justice Department to approve the ownership and transport of slot machines.

"We have to comply with federal law," Bearskin says. "We've complied with every federal law they've thrown at us."

While Bearskin keeps playing against the house, the Sac and Fox and Kickapoo are in "ongoing discussions" with the state to jointly open a casino in Wyandotte County. And the Potowatomi tribe recently announced a $55 million expansion of its casino, run by Harrah's, north of Topeka.

Bearskin remains undeterred in trying to return to a county that is named for his people.

"I know we're right," he says. "I want everyone else to know I'm right."