By Benjamin Spillman
The Desert Sun
April 26th, 2004
PALM SPRINGS -- There aren’t many people on Earth with a closer connection to Andreas Canyon than Anthony Andreas.
The eldest living descendent of the Pai-nik-tem or "early morning" clan of Cahuilla Indians, Andreas’ ancestors settled the canyon area centuries ago, following a nomadic existence family members still sing about today.
Andreas Ranch, his 10-acre spread near the mouth of the canyon, is a longtime gathering place for tribal people from the deserts of California and Arizona who visit for reunions, parties and even traditional native funerals.
They come to experience what solitude remains along South Palm Canyon Drive, where the development of south Palm Springs fades into a narrow paved road that winds to the entrance of the Indian Canyons.
But now, with development from Palm Springs creeping toward the northern edge of the ranch, Andreas says the spiritual purity of the canyon area is threatened by, of all things, the proposed $38 million Agua Caliente Cultural Museum.
"To us, the whole thing is one big sacred area, whether there are artifacts there or not," said Andreas, 65. "Now that has been destroyed, not by outsiders, (but) by the tribe."
During a recent visit to Andreas Ranch, James Saubel III, Andreas’ nephew, said he supports the notion of a museum, but he also wants to preserve the sanctity of the views from the ranch.
Seated at a picnic table under one of the palm-covered palapas that provide shade on the grounds, Saubel described his connection to the shrinking open space along South Palm Canyon Drive.
"It is like a safe haven for us," he said. "Now they are going to put a whole building there."
At the same time, however, Saubel said he supports a grander museum to preserve tribal culture.
"A lot of people say we are against the museum. We are not," he said. "We are against where they are going to put the museum."
It’s unclear how many Agua Caliente oppose the planned site, but Andreas, a former tribal vice chairman and Cahuilla historian, says he speaks for as many as 65 mostly younger members.
Andreas says he’s acting as their spokesperson.
Tribal chairman Richard M. Milanovich, who supports the location, acknowledges the Andreas argument is gaining steam.
In the early stages of planning, Milanovich said he knew of just two out of hundreds of tribal members who opposed the planned location.
It wasn’t until a tribal meeting last fall when members opposed to the location showed up en masse that Milanovich said he realized the depth of support behind Andreas’ opinion.
"I was quite surprised by the reaction," he said. "By that time it was so far along."
Although the museum board of directors is independent of the tribal government, the Agua Caliente has pledged to raise more than 50 percent of the money for construction. The tribe also contributed the land for the museum.
At least two prominent tribal members -- museum board chairperson Mildred Browne and historian Ray Patencio -- have spoken in favor of the museum location.
"And we have gone to great lengths to work with an architect that would produce a building that was environmentally friendly, that was not this huge thing out there," Browne told the tribe’s Indian Planning commission last year, according to a meeting transcript. "So I appreciate where they are coming from, but sometimes we have to give a little in order to preserve what we have."
The museum would be the most prominent development in the area south of Acanto Drive, a mostly undeveloped area where South Palm Canyon Drive narrows and approaches the Indian Canyons.
The museum is expected to attract up to 450 visitors daily during peak season, according to the tribal government.
Sense of history
Unlike most of the Agua Caliente reservation, home to two casinos, a resort hotel and much of downtown Palm Springs, the land is reminiscent of what Andreas’ ancestors might have found when they returned to the Coachella Valley from their legendary journey centuries ago.
The way Andreas tells it, a great drought dried up ancient Lake Cahuilla, prompting the people of the area to search for a new home.
The journey led them through Sonora and Baja California in Mexico and, eventually back to Southern California.
And while the journey lasted years, the travelers never found a place to settle, Andreas said, until they wound their way back to the Coachella Valley.
"This is their home, this is what they were looking for …when they left," Andreas said. "That is why Andreas Canyon and this whole area is sacred, because of this story."
Upon the return, the Cahuilla people settled in area canyons.
Andreas’ clan, the Pai-nik-tem, were the first group from the journey to come back to the valley, he said.
"We were the first ones to land here," Andreas said.
Around the ranch, there are few homes and the view toward Andreas Canyon is marred only by two water tanks.
Milanovich said he still considers the site, "very befitting of a cultural institution."
But he also said tribal leaders will continue to talk with critics of the planned location and left the door open to compromise.
"Maybe they are right, maybe times have changed," he said, then added, "Until we have further word from our membership that is where it is going to be."
When asked whether it was too late to relocate the museum site, Milanovich responded, "We haven’t broken ground yet."
In a recent interview, Browne said it was too late for the museum to reconsider its location.
Not only have they already spent about $3 million designing the museum to fit the site, the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., in October accepted the Agua Caliente museum as a direct affiliate. It is believed to be just the second American Indian museum to receive the designation.
Affiliate museums receive three major benefits: use of the Smithsonian name in marketing and advertisements, displays of Smithsonian artifacts for as long as 10 years and access to Smithsonian curators and conservationists, who pass on their knowledge and expertise.
Affiliate museums have reported attendance numbers jumping by as much as 35 percent because of loaned Smithsonian collections. The Smithsonian has about 143 million artifacts, but only about 2 percent are on display at any given time.
"We can’t just pull the building out and stick it anywhere," Browne said of the Agua Caliente museum plan. "We would lose our credibility."
Besides, Browne added, there is bound to be more development in the general area of South Palm Canyon Drive despite opposition by tribal members who fancy the rustic nature of the neighborhood.
"They kind of think they can stop everything from going up there," Browne said. "But I don’t know how they are going to do it. It isn’t their land."
The proposed museum is expected to replace the Agua Caliente Band of Cahuilla Indians’ modest museum on Palm Canyon Drive.
The new building would be the culmination of a cultural movement that began in 1991 when the tribe formed a volunteer museum committee.
That vision now includes a 50-acre museum complex on South Palm Canyon Drive on mostly pristine land within the Indian Canyons Heritage Park.
The site, located on the alluvial fan at the mouth of the canyon, is in the vicinity of the now-defunct Rincon Village, the tribal settlement Andreas’ ancestors once occupied. The village site was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1973 and tribal members, including Milanovich, have opposed development in the area before.
"That was their village, that right there means a lot to me," said Ronnie Saubel, Andreas’ stepson, of the Pai-nik-tem clan.
"To even destroy even part of that village, that is not right," Saubel said.
But not everyone agrees with the notion that the museum would harm what remains of Rincon Village, or even dramatically upset what remains of the solitude on the Agua Caliente’s largely urban reservation.
An environmental assessment prepared for the tribe cites 22 "cultural resources" within the project area.
Most of the resources are "milling slicks," which are areas of boulders where people once ground mesquite beans into flour.
Museum builders say they’ve taken great care to either move or build around the slicks and other archeological features in the area.
Michael Hammond, executive director of the museum, cited repeated tribal council votes, tribal donations of money and land and a lack of, "substantial objections," as an indication of support for the museum location.
"The tribe has been very, very supportive of this project. And, yes, there are some squeaky wheels," Hammond said. "We never anticipated that there would be unanimous agreement as to where the museum should go, just because people have different agendas."
In addition to pledging $20 million toward construction, Hammond said the tribal government agreed to lease the independent museum its 52-acre site for just $10 per year.
Including the parking lot and driveway, Hammond said the museum would only disturb 6.8 acres on the site.
He also said it is wrong to imply the museum is to be built on a significant part of Rincon Village.
"These are not habitation areas. This is not Rincon Village," Hammond said. "Tony Andreas knows we are not upsetting any archeological resources."
Shared vision?
But for Andreas, the issue is about more than archeological resources.
To make his point, he pulls a letter, written by Milanovich in 1984, from a bundle of documents.
At the time tribal members concerned about the proposed Andreas Cove development in the area sought to alert the public about the importance of the land.
"Just standing in such areas gives us a deep feeling of our heritage and pride in our ancestry," Milanovich wrote. "We wish to protect such sacred areas for this reason, even if they are of little scientific interest."
Today, Andreas said he’s echoing Milanovich’s 20-year-old sentiment.
"That meant no development," Andreas said. "To put a tribal museum there is just the same as having a development."
Milanovich said the museum proposal is far more fitting for the canyon than the Andreas Cove project he and Andreas opposed together. He said that project would have included hundreds of homes and a golf course and would have been, "a much greater ecological disaster," than the planned museum.
"It is a large building," he said. "But it is one building."