NON-INDIAN MAY LEAVE HOME ON TRIBAL LAND RESERVATION RESIDENT HAS

Fearing a shootout with tribal police after eight years of disputes, Dan Hoover is thinking of leaving his log cabin paradise on the Colville Indian Reservation.

The lean, craggy Hoover insists the Colville Confederated Tribes have no authority over non-Indians like himself who own land inside the reservation.

To prove his point, he has fled from tribal law enforcement officers three times. His actions drove a wedge into the fragile relationship between tribal leaders and Ferry County officials, who both claim jurisdiction over his land. But Hoover, 62, now acknowledges what tribal and county leaders have long known: There is too much gray and not enough black and white in their relationship. "We're all caught up in a situation here," he said. "In reality, there are no villains." The century-old jurisdictional muddle was created when Congress opened reservations to white settlement. While tribal courts have no criminal jurisdiction over non-Indians, tribal police can enforce state and federal laws against anyone. And reservation governments have broad, if unclear, civil jurisdiction over non-Indians. For Hoover, it boils down to the fact he pays taxes to the county government and has no vote in the ethnic-based tribal government. He has alienated both authorities with persistent demands that the county exercise the jurisdiction it claims to have on reservation land owned by non-Indians. His latest challenge is a proposal to create a four-unit subdivision that tribal leaders oppose. Ferry County, which has no zoning, approved the subdivision, subject to a tribal government OK. Hoover refuses to submit his plans to the tribal Planning Department. The tribal council is suing in tribal court to block the project. Tribal officials say Hoover already has been granted more development than tribal members would be allowed in the largely uninhabited, 200-square-mile Hellsgate Game Reserve where he lives. In addition to a second house for family friends, Hoover was allowed to build an airstrip for the plane he uses as a fish-spotting pilot in Alaska. County commissioners voted 2-1 on Feb. 26 not to support Hoover in court on the subdivision. Nevertheless, serious tension has developed between the county and the Colville Tribes. County Commissioner Jim Hall publicly accused tribal leaders of turning cooperation into a one-way street. "They're challenging us on everything," he said. Hoover agrees, but he's tired of fighting and unnerved by a tense confrontation with tribal law officers. Authorities overlooked the first time Hoover fled from tribal wildlife officers who stopped his vehicle in the game reserve. Tribal police arrested him a second time in January 1995, and Ferry County Prosecutor Al Nielson charged him in state court. Hoover accepted a plea bargain that cost him $410 in fines and fees for failing to obey. Undeterred, Hoover ran again on Feb. 25 when tribal wildlife officers flagged him down in the game reserve and attempted to serve a tribal court summons in the lawsuit over his proposed subdivision. Wildlife officer Stephanie Misiaszek said she and officer Rick Desautel considered Hoover's conduct suspicious and his driving dangerous when he fled from the summons. She said they chased him to his door and she drew her pistol when she feared Hoover was going for a gun. Hoover and his companion at the time, Davenport resident Leslie Maynard, said the officers pointed guns at them and threatened to shoot. Misiaszek said Hoover was only ordered to stop, and she didn't raise her gun from the "low ready" position. The officers withdrew, and prosecutor Nielson is waiting for more information before deciding whether to charge Hoover. Meanwhile, Hoover said he would run again. Tribal wildlife officers' badges "might as well be out of a box of Crackerjacks," he said. "I don't recognize their authority." But, he said, "I'm afraid if I stay and fight, it'll go to the point where somebody will get hurt, and it's not worth that." So Hoover is trying to sell his idyllic log cabin on 33 of the most isolated acres in Eastern Washington. He even invited the tribe to buy him out for $675,000. "I'll cry when I leave this place," he said, pointing to the 42 fruit trees he planted when he arrived eight years ago. "I put my heart into it." Anyone might cry over losing the stylish three-room cabin Hoover built with 24-inch Douglas fir logs. Its sweeping picture windows command an inspirational view of the confluence of the Spokane and Columbia rivers. Motorized solar panels track the sun and generate electricity. Hoover's home is across Lake Roosevelt from the Seven Bays resort north of Davenport, but it's a 3-hour drive from Spokane. He is separated from the Keller ferry by 10 miles of winding paved road, 22 miles of mountainous gravel road and 15 miles of washed-out logging road. The tribe and Ferry County hired a mediator to resolve their dispute over Hoover's previous building proposal. The mediation, under terms of a cooperative agreement between the governments, was called off when Hoover challenged the agreement in federal court. U.S. District Judge Fred Van Sickle dismissed the suit in July 1994 on grounds Hoover needed to start out in tribal court - something Hoover refuses to do. The tribes no longer are willing to work with a private mediator. Although still defiant, Hoover acknowledges some excesses on his part: "I've defied them to the point where I've really alienated them." Also, Hoover said strident arguments by his former wife, Ellen, "suckered me in to the point where I couldn't retreat." He described her as a "disciple" of local constitutionalist Ervin Palmer, a longtime opponent of tribal authority. The Hoovers separated about 1-1/2 years ago. If Hoover has regrets, it is that many people think of him as a sort of outlaw. He says tribal officials portray him as a poacher or a drug smuggler. "That just isn't me," he said. "I've been a law-abiding citizen all of my life. I put three years in the military." The Colville Tribes might face less resentment if they didn't ban non-Indian residents from some of the benefits of reservation life, such as hunting and fishing, Hoover said. But tribal attorney Steve Suagee, an outsider himself as a Cherokee from Oklahoma, said acceptance on an Indian reservation takes patience. "My traditions tell me that I have to be respectful of the ways of the people and I have to bide my time and pay attention to the cues from the community, and at some point things will sort of open up in a culturally acceptable way," Suagee said. "This ain't suburban America. It's still a place where the Indians are holding their own and don't need to feel like they're a subordinate people."

Copyright 1996 Cowles Publishing Company
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