Waves of Settlers, Developers Toll Celilo's Death The Dalles Chronicle March 11, 2007 page A9 There was little the tribes could do to prevent the dam's construction By Joseph Frazier Associated Press Writer CELILO VILLAGE - Jay Minthorn remembers watching the Columbia River rise, the islands of Celilo Falls vanish, the fishing platforms wash away - and a centuries-old way of tribal life vanish forever. The gates of The Dalles Dam had closed, and nothing would ever be the same. "That was the hardest thing to do," says Minthorn, a member of the Umatilla Tribe who fished the falls as a young man. "To me it was one of the biggest funerals that I ever attended. People were up there mourning, crying, everything. "They just kind of walked off and left all their fishing equipment and nets and scaffolds, whatever; we left them to go under water or down the river." He is 70 now. He was just 20 on March 10, 1957, when the dam pushed back the Columbia River to reap the benefits of hydroelectric power. In six hours the falls were gone forever beneath a mockingly tranquil reservoir pool. The 50th anniversary of that moment is approaching. It will be more noted than celebrated. "If you talk of Celilo to some Indian families you will get the door slammed in your face. It's still that painful," says Charles Hudson, spokesman for the Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fish Commission. For 10,000 years or more, Columbia River Indians thrived on the abundant salmon churning through the falls to upriver spawning grounds. The falls provided a cultural identity, and abundant life, and for centuries, a Western Wall Street where tribes from across the West, from Alaska, from the Plains, from the South came to trade salmon, shells, buffalo meat, obsidian, copper, roots, fur, blankets, canoes, slaves. For most people the falls today are trapped in classic black-and-white photos of Indian fishermen silhouetted with their dip nets on rickety-looking platforms hanging over the tumbling whitewater. But for older tribesmen, the falls of their memories are in vibrant and living color. "I tell people, my kids and grandkids, about it when we travel down here," Minthorn said. "They look at the man-made river we have today compared to the great Celilo Falls." He said you could hear the falls and feel the humidity from their mist from miles away. "The hills here used to be green from the mist from the water," he said, looking over to the Washington side. "Today they don't have any color left in them." The story of how the color disappeared - and the fish, and the majesty of the falls - starts long before the dam was built. Incoming and Outgoing messages protected by Trend Micro PC-cillin program