The Edmonton Journal, Saturday, December 08, 1990 CONTRACTOR WANTS GOV'T TO COMPENSATE FOR ARSON Don Thomas Journal Staff Writer Edmonton A contractor whose logging equipment was damaged by arsonists in an area claimed by the Lubicon Lake Indian band wants compensation from the Alberta government. But all he's getting is the run-around, Walter Kulikov said Thursday in a call by mobile telephone from a bush camp near Red Earth, about 350 km north of Edmonton. "I think it's a bunch of crap because it's their (the government's) fault, they didn't want to settle something with the natives and we got caught," he said. "Now I'm losing money everyday. I've had one of my machines shut down almost two weeks already and I'm not getting nowhere." Damaged in the fire two weeks ago were his four-wheel-drive truck, a log- hauling skidder, an all-terrain vehicle and an equipment shack, none of it insured. With the skidder out of action, Kulikov figures he's losing $1,000 a day. He said he called the offices of Premier Don Getty, Attorney General Ken Rostad and Mike Cardinal, MLA for Athabasca-Lac la Biche, where officials all denied responsibility for his loss. A spokesman for Getty said there was no record of a call from Kulikov. But if he feels he's been wronged, he should go to court, said Peter Tadman. "What you're outlining is something that would fall within the justice system that is set up to resolve such disputes. That would appear to be the appropriate route for anyone to follow," Tadman said. Kulikov said he'd be bankrupt long before a ruling was made. But Dana Andreassen, Rostad's spokesman, said the Alberta government is not an insurance agency and can't be held liable for Kulikov's decision to go uninsured. Until the courts decide who did the damage, the Alberta government can't be held responsible, said Bob Hawkesworth, New Democrat native affairs critic. The Lubicons have been waiting for compensation more than 50 years, he said. But the province should have given the loggers a place to work outside the band's disputed area, he added. ***************************************************************************** The Edmonton Journal, Sunday, December 9, 1990 TENSION, HATRED ON THE RISE BETWEEN LUBICONS AND LOGGERS Jac MacDonald Journal Staff Writer Little Buffalo Loggers and oil workers are talking about strapping on rifles -- or just plain quitting. Some of them call Chief Bernard Ominayak of the Lubicon Lake band a "little dictator", others make bitter racist remarks about solving the problem by killing off the Indians. Back in the Lubicon settlement in Little Buffalo, the mood is tense and suspicious. RCMP cruise the settlement daily in marked and unmarked vehicles as they continue their investigation into the torching of logging equipment Nov. 24. About 17 natives have been arrested, taken to Peace River 80 km. away, and released after interrogations that lasted up to five hours, says band lawyer Robert Sachs. Band councillor Dwight Gladue reflects what appears to be the prevailing opinion about the poor RCMP service to the settlement generally and particularly with respect to his brother's drowning last July. RCMP did not respond as quickly as he feels they should have after getting a call about a missing man. "It shows the mentality. A guy dies (but) when machines get wrecked, they are all out here," Gladue says. With land claim negotiations at a standstill for almost two years, tensions are growing between the Lubicons and industry in the triangle between Peace River, High Prairie, and Red Earth Creek. The Nov. 24 fire which destroyed $20,000 worth of logging equipment and warnings from other loggers and oil companies, have raised fears that the situation is ripe for an ugly confrontation. "The feelings are running very, very deep, and something tragic could happen," says Athabasca MP Jack Shields. Shields says he's been told in calls he's received that "if the Lubicons move in and take the law into their own hands, people in the bush will take the law into their own hands too." In the isolated bush northwest of Little Buffalo, production is down 20 percent for Lawrence Noskey, a Buchanan Lumber sub-contractor who says his 11 men are getting jumpy. At 2 a.m. recently, RCMP knocked on the door of the trailer and the workers sleeping inside were terrified the masked and knife-wielding men who burnt their equipment had returned, Noskey said. "We are up every time there is a noise," he said. "They (the workers) haven't quit yet, but they're thinking of quitting." Noskey himself plans to pull out and seek work elsewhere if he's not provided with security guards. In High Prairie, about 140 km south of Peace River, employees of Buchanan Lumber, the town's largest employer, say they are caught in the middle of a dispute between the Lubicon and the federal government. They worry about layoffs if their timber supply is cut off from the 10,000- sq.-km territory the Lubicons claim as their traditional hunting and trapping area. This year only 10 to 20 percent of Buchanan logs are coming from the contested area, but next year all the logs will come from there, says plant manager Wayne Midnight. "Very definitely, our livelihood is caught in the middle," says Midnight, one of the company's 178 employees. "I know I wouldn't like to see this place shut down," says mill superintendent Gerald Cunningham, who owns a home in town and supports a family of five. Cunningham, along with 60 percent of the company's workforce, is native, and he rejects Ominayak's assertion that natives working for Buchanan are "puppets" who are being used. "I feel like I'm here of my own free will. I have to make a living for my family," he says. Metis workers say they're caught in an awkward situation. "It's kind of hard for me, being part Indian. I can see their side of it too," says foreman Peter L'Hirondelle, an 18-year employee of the mill. The torching and continuing stand-off is creating a rift between whites and natives which will affect the children, says sales manager Gordon Rosser. "I'm more concerned about that than I am about a bunch of yahoos running around in the bush," he says. Until the recent incident, relations between the two communities had "never been smoother". Now he hears comments around town, like "our forefathers forgot to finish the job..." In Little Buffalo, home to 350 Lubicons seeking a land claim settlement since 1939, the mood is also less festive than the cheery Christmas lights suggest. After an intensive two-week RCMP investigation into the Nov. 24 fire strangers are greeted with suspicion. Eyes flash, and doors are closed quickly. Few Lubicons wish to be seen talking to a stranger. "Most of them feel that it is their fight. Most of the people stick up for each other around here," says Martha Whitehead. The settlement is reached by a narrow, icy gravel highway heavily travelled by large trucks hauling wood chips to Daishowa Canada Co.'s Peace River pulp mill, an hour's drive from Little Buffalo. Homes are crowded, and there is no running water or paved streets. The well water has a yellow tinge and the staple drink, coffee with plenty of sugar and canned milk, is made by boiling snow. It's hard to see how things will improve soon, with the band and the federal government both refusing to budge. Alberta agreed in 1988 to set aside a 246-sq.-km reserve with full mineral rights. The band wants $167 million in economic benefits but the federal government only offers $45 million. Shields says he's going to suggest to Indian Affairs Minister Tom Siddon that a joint tribunal be created, but other than that, "there is no proposal at all," he says. "Do we just shut down in northern Alberta then? It's unrealistic."