SANTA YNEZ, Calif. — In the 1960s, a group called Concerned Citizens held barbecue dinners, car washes and fashion shows to help bring indoor plumbing to the Chumash Indian reservation here.
The display of charity was not an isolated occurrence. Year after year, merchants donated toys and clothing to Indian children. Volunteers decorated the sparse tribal hall each Christmas and baked cookies for Chumash families.
"It was a very friendly atmosphere," said Jody White, who strung pine cones and candy canes in the tribal hall.
Today, the Chumash inspire more fear than pity. A new Concerned Citizens group has emerged -- not to help the tribe, but to fight its development plans. In a stunning reversal, the region's wealthy landowners now view the Indians as a threat to their way of life.
The tribe's casino resort, big enough to house two Costco Wholesale outlets, is the focus of much of the agitation. Residents complain that traffic is choking scenic highways, that noisy buses keep neighbors awake at all hours and that the glow of casino lights has obscured the stars in the night sky.
More worrisome, locals say, are the tribe's plans for further development, which call for an opulent resort with several hundred luxury homes on a swath of open farmland near the reservation.
"People need to start figuring out that it ain't the poor Indians anymore," said Doug Herthel, an equine veterinarian in nearby Los Olivos. "This is a disaster."
As Indian casinos have expanded across the state, many newly prosperous tribes have become embroiled in disputes with neighboring communities. Perhaps nowhere is the conflict as intense as in the Santa Ynez Valley.
The collision unfolding here is extraordinary in part because the Chumash, once impoverished and powerless, can now match the political and financial muscle of their adversaries -- including ranchers, retired chief executives and Hollywood celebrities.
Accustomed to having their way, these property owners are confronting a sovereign entity flush with gambling revenue and unfettered by state or local land-use regulations. They are discovering, to their dismay, that there is little they can do to block the tribe's ambitious development plans.
Despite raising more than $300,000 and hiring lawyers, lobbyists and consultants over the past year, residents can point to just one tangible achievement: delaying the issuance of liquor licenses for the casino resort.
