title: Ep 1: The Family
author: Timber Wars Season 2: Salmon Wars
contenttype: podcast
publication: Timber Wars Season 2: Salmon Wars
published: 2024-03-13T08:00:00-04:00
sourceurl: https://pds.cdnstream1.com/p/opb/timber-wars-season-2-sal-760bb5/ep-1-the-family/audio.mp3
word_count: 3255
Federal funding for public media has been eliminated. That means KMHD is entirely community-funded and your support is more important than ever. Go to KMHD.org and join as a rhythm section member with your ongoing monthly contribution now. Thank you. Picture yourself inside a Native American longhouse. This one has giant logs rising from the ground in diagonals on either side of you, forming an a-frame roof. The walls and ceiling are seerplanked. The center of the floor and keeping with tradition is bare dirt. Benches lining the walls are full of people, and all eyes are on one man, standing in the dirt at the front of the room. He's about to get a new name. We're going to say the name three times together. Three times. I'll say it that everybody will say it after an echo. To Kayakin. To Kayakin. To Kayakin. This is the name that our relative will receive this name. We're in Oregon, not far from the Columbia River. The man receiving a new name is Sam George. The name to Kayakin comes from one of his ancestors. For Columbia River tribes, a naming is an honor that can be bestowed at almost any age. Sam George is 50. His elders said the new name recognizes the role he's grown into for the tribe. He's a fisherman. I fish for salmon, and pretty much whatever else with catch, I guess. Which, in the Yankemon Nation, means he feeds a lot of people, hundreds of people. I love doing it. I love bringing fishing. I love being on the water. I love providing for my daughter and my family, my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, my sisters. They all come to their sin and it helps them. He works on a fishing crew for his uncle, Randy Settler. Randy and his family catch the salmon that sustain tribal diets and spiritual rituals. Our survival is dependent upon the salmon. And our existence has been linked to this area and has been linked to the salmon. And we need to be able to gather in our usual and accustomed areas. As a Yakima fisherman, Randy thinks often about the legacy he'll pass to Sam, the head of his fishing crew, and to Sam's 11-year-old daughter, their crew's youngest member. That legacy is under threat. First came the commercial fisherman, and along with them, the loss of salmon habitat to farming and livestock, mining and diversions. Then came hydroelectric dams. During this long-house ceremony, tribal member after tribal member stands up and delivers the same message. We have always fought for salmon. Which means we never surrender. We never surrender. We always got this alternative to war. They want to take what's ours, which is time. That's time for them to give back. But today's fight is even more pressing. It's not just about who can fish for salmon, or where Randy and his family can practice their trades and traditions. It's about whether those fish and a way of life will disappear completely. This is Sam and Wars. I'm Tony Shik. I was at that long house, witnessing that connection to the salmon because of Randy Settler. I'm an investigative reporter. I specialize in data and documents. My relationships with sources can be pretty detached, sometimes confrontational. I've never had a relationship with a source, like the one I have with Randy. It'd be hard to find someone more affected by the Northwest salmon policies than him. His family lost their home, their primary food source, their ancestral fishing grounds. He watched his parents get jailed for exercising their fishing rights. People like Randy were forced to sacrifice so much for the effort to make Northwest life easier. Easier for people like me. I live in Portland, Oregon, the city where I grew up. It sits just south of where the Wlamut River meets the Columbia, on land taken from indigenous people. My dad's Foundry Supply Business, the one that housed me, fed me, put me through school, only existed because of the shipping and manufacturing industries enabled by the river and the dams. I proposed to my wife, on a stern wheeler, on the Columbia River, the tourist boat floating on a reservoir created between two dams in a spot that used to be a series of rapids, where tribes fished. There's no one in this region whose life isn't touched by the fish and the river they swim in. We populated towns to fish for salmon and can them. We sacrificed them for cheap electricity. Even the region's iconic farming and timber industries wouldn't be possible without salmon, whose dying bodies have enriched the Northwest soil with nutrients from the ocean. To countless Americans, the Columbia has been a river of hope. This is from a 1949 film made by the Department of the Interior. A shining symbol of plenty. And men have followed the great river of the West down to the Pacific to sow their crops and cut the timber, to build a colonial empire, sending out its boundless resources to the far corners of the earth. That story about a colonial empire, with the lie about boundless resources, that's the one I always heard. That's the story a lot of people heard. It's a story of progress, of American boldness and ingenuity. But for decades, the injustice at the heart of that story has been systematically hidden by and from the predominantly white people on the winning side of it. It wasn't until I started this reporting and met people like Randy that I realized how little I knew. I met Randy about two years ago. I'd started reporting on Columbia River Salmon. A source suggested I give Randy a call. I asked him if I could come see his fish camp, but it's safe to say none of us expected what that would start. I'd scheduled this to spend one afternoon with Randy and his crew and be on our way. So how much time you're going to spend, Tony? Today? Yeah, with moon. Uh, until you give us the boot. OK. We lost track of time. After several hours, we didn't want to leave. They asked if we would come back the next day. And so we did. And we just kept coming back. We've done hours of interviews with Randy and his family members. I used to think, why are these guys coming back? That's Randy talking to a room full of people about why he agreed to be part of our reporting. Especially Tony, because I had treated him bad. And I always tell people he's, he's no good. He's right. Making fun of me is one of Randy's favorite pastimes. And the feeling is mutual. Hey there. He's Tony. He's with Oregon Public Broadcast. Hi there. I'm going to a story about fishermen who don't know how to run their own boats. Oh, you got three good. OK. I'm right behind him. Since we met, I've spent more time with Randy or on the phone with Randy than I have with some of the people in my own family. By now, we'll call each other just to discuss our favorite basketball team, the Portland Trailblazers and who they might trade for. I don't know why they'd want to take him. Yeah. He's a great player, but he's not big enough. As you've probably gathered by now, Randy likes to talk. And he's told me a lot about his tribe, his family, and their history on the Columbia River. I was a youngest in my mother and father's family, and I watched all the older fishermen and my older sisters and brothers and their roles in the fishery. And we drank the river water. We bathed in the river water. We lived on the banks of the river year-round. We quickly go from talking about the history of his family to the history of the Yakima nation itself. Ten of the 14 bands of the Yakima nation existed for thousands of years along the Columbia River. Their villages were located near key areas of the Columbia where they could harvest salmon, and that there was great civilizations here of people who were able to do great things. When white settlers began to arrive in native territories, the United States sought to acquire the land, sometimes by treaty, sometimes by force. The 14 tribes and bands of what's now the Yakima nation, they signed a treaty in 1855. At the same time, as many other Columbia River tribes. What was unique about the treaties that we entered into is that the people here were so linked to the salmon resource into the Columbia River and its tributaries is they are you know, we have to be able to survive. And our survival is dependent upon the salmon. In many ways, the treaties in 1855 between the Northwest tribes and the US government marked the official beginning of the salmon wars. The treaties ceded millions of acres to the government and reserved the tribes right to fish and gather foods at usual and accustomed places, both on and off reservations. But the United States did not honor those treaties. Before the era of day building, the most important fishing site for upper Columbia River tribes was a huge collection of waterfalls, they called Shunit meaning roaring waters. Downriver tribes had YAM or echo of falling water. There was trails upon trails from all over from Canada, Alaska, California, Arizona, New Mexico, all these different areas to the east came in to trade for salmon. Both those iconic sets of waterfalls, otherwise known as kettlefalls and salilo falls, are gone. Kettlefalls was near Spokane, Washington, and was flooded when the Grand Cooley Dam created like Roosevelt. Salilo Falls was about 100 miles east of Portman, Oregon. Falls were submerged when the Dalles Dam created a reservoir in their place. Also gone are other smaller fishing grounds along with critical spawning areas, village sites, sacred sites, burial grounds, and other indigenous resources, all of them destroyed by dams. At other fishing grounds that still exist, the salmon are simply gone, vanished behind dams that have no way for fish to swim past them. In 1947, the Department of the Interior flat out stated that, The present salmon run must be sacrificed, effort should be directed towards Amelia rating the impact of this development upon the injured interests, and nod towards a vain attempt to hold still the hands of the claw. Columbia River tribes whose traditional fisheries would be located behind many proposed dams were the most injured interest, but they received almost none of the amelioration. Congress paid to create a series of government-run fish hatcheries along the Columbia, but they built them to boost commercial and sport fishing in the ocean. The fish from government hatcheries would never even swim as far upstream as tribes fishing grounds. We'll hear more about hatcheries in a future episode. And when salmon numbers dwindled, Northwest states tried to keep more of the supply for commercial catch. They specifically restricted fishing by tribes. Tribal members fought to assert their treaty rights. They went to jail for it. Tribes found ways to adapt the losses of wild salmon and sacred fishing grounds, like opening their own fish hatcheries and using boats with gill nets, and they faced backlash for it. Overfishing, dams, and other habitat loss drove many salmon populations to the brink. Tribes have been suffering from these consequences alongside the salmon for more than 100 years. Salmon recovery has been kicked down the road again and again, but because of climate change, we're about to run out of road. Take it from Lisa Crozier. She's a scientist for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. She let a study estimating what salmon survival could look like in the next 40 years. She found it could decline by nearly 90%. You know, we can imagine all kinds of new situations that could occur. Unfortunately, most of them don't seem to be favorable for salmon. Avoiding that fate would require federal agencies, namely the Army Corps of Engineers, the Bonneville Power Administration, and the Bureau of Reclamation to take steps they've resisted for decades. The Biden White House has made bold public promises about honoring tribal rights and solving the Columbia River salmon crisis. Whether we'll back that up with action, remains to be seen. Tribal members told me about sitting in meetings with the Biden Administration where they're again being asked to compromise, without any accounting of how compromise their way of life has already become. This fight of triumphs on the Columbia River is one shared by those impuget sound. Tribes in Alaska's Bayes and the rivers and streams up and down the West Coast face similar challenges. What's lasted for thousands of years now depends entirely on what's done in the next 40. I just want my people to exist here like we've always existed. Coming up after a break will return to the Longhouse. It hears more about Randy and his people. Federal funding for public media has been eliminated. That means KMHD is entirely community funded and your support is more important than ever. Go to KMHD.org and join as a rhythm section member with your ongoing monthly contribution now. Thank you. Remember the ceremony we read earlier where Randy's nephew Sam got a new name? There were actually two parts to that ceremony. Sam's was only half of it. The other half was a memorial for Randy's mom, Mary Gaudi settler. It's a tribal tradition to hold naming ceremonies and memorials together on the same day. This is a reflection of the salmon life cycle. These fish returned to their home stream to spawn where they die giving life to the next generation. During Mary's memorial, dozens of friends and family members took turns standing and speaking and I was struck by just how much of what they said was about salmon. I've been to memorials. I've never been to one that occluded so many calls to action. Mary was the matriarch of not just the family but of the fishing operation that Randy now runs. She became a well-known champion of tribal fishing rights. Randy saved newspaper clippings about her. In her day, the fight was about protecting their right to catch fish. Now it's about making sure there are still fish to catch. One speech from the memorial really stuck with me. We look forward with the goodness of life, no recordings. That's Joe Day Gaudi, Randy's cousin. He asked that we stop recording. Some parts of Longhouse ceremonies are sacred and can't be recorded so we stopped. But I can't forget what he said. He said people often ask him why when he was chairman of the Accommodation, did he advocate so much for removing dams on the Columbia River? He reminded the Longhouse about the summer a few years ago when hundreds of thousands of salmon died because the river got too hot. Then he rested his hands on his young son and he told the Longhouse the day was coming in his lifetime when that would be commonplace. He said Randy's mother was a great warrior. All the fishing families in the Longhouse that day share that warrior spirit, he said, and they're going to need it. For decades, the sites where Randy fished were in his mother's name. Now they're in his. He and his sister are now the family elders. As the days ceremony is near the end, Randy stood to share some closing words. So when I look around and I look at you, but I'm looking at all those ones that were before me. All my mother's brothers, all my father's brothers and sisters, as I went you people to understand how important this is, this ground, we're praying for all good thoughts, all of us together when we swing this hand, we're in the one line going forward, going forward, but you can't go forward if you don't go back. And the hardest part is going back. Who are your people? No one who are your people. One of the treaties in 1855 was signed by a nesprous chief from Oregon, known by the name Tukakis. Tukakis went by another name you've probably heard if you spent any time in the Pacific Northwest. Old Chief Joseph. He's Randy's great great great grandfather. Old Chief Joseph had been an early advocate for peace with white settlers, but later renounced the US government when it's so badly reneged on its word. His sons would end up leaders in the nesprous war of 1877, in which the tribe was hunted down for its refusal to relocate against the terms of their treaty. One of Tukakis's sons was the younger, most famous Chief Joseph. Another was named Al-Qaq, or Frog. He was a war chief known as a fearless and brilliant fighter. Al-Qaqat died in 1877 in a war with the US government over treaty rights. His name lives on. I own a sin wet al-Qaqat. My name is Frog. That's the name that was given to me. And I live here because my people put me here and that's pretty much what I have to say right now. Randy's eyes well as he told us about the name he was given. His mother and tribal elders bestowed it in a traditional ceremony, just like the one for his nephew. Randy spent a lot of his life trying to live up to that name. His parents were at the forefront of the fight for treaty rights. He inherited their fight. We're going to share the story of that fight, a story that Randy and his family shared with us. We'll dive into the history I wish I'd known growing up here. We'll investigate who's to blame for the same advancing. And what can be done before it's too late. But like Randy told the longhouse, before we go forward we have to go back, back to what it all began. They didn't sign the treaty they had walked knee deep and blood. That's next time on Sam & Wars. Sam & Wars is brought to you by Oregon public broadcasting and pro-publica. Thanks to all the members who make podcasts possible at OPB. I'm your host Tony Schick. I produce this podcast along with Julie Sabatia, Katie Campbell at ProPublica contributed to the reporting. Our editor for this project is Anna Griffin. Our sound engineers are Nelline Silva and Steven Craig. Original music for Sam & Wars was created by Keeley Goodwin and Sean O'William. Additional music comes from audio network. Thanks to Charles Hudson for reviewing our episodes prior to publication with an eye toward cultural context. And thanks to Sarah Blustain, Lily and Carebake and Sage Van Wain for their input. Crystal Lagori was the voice of the official government documents you heard in this episode. Visit our website opb.org for more in depth reporting on Sam & Dam's and Pacific Northwest tribes. And if you like this podcast please follow us on your favorite podcast app. You'll also find the Timber Wars series in the same podcast feat. It's all about the history and consequences of a fight in the Northwest over trees, owls and the meaning of the natural world. I highly recommend it if you haven't heard it already. Thanks for your support.