THE SIOUX PRANO'S
NDN Mafia

I never ever thought I’d leave the Nawizi Indian Reservation located in northeastern South Dakota. I was a dye in the wool, true blue reservation Indian. I had a comfortable home in Bumduck, the reservation business hub of about twenty-five hundred white and Indian people. I had a nice federal job with the local Indian Hospital until one day I was fired for insubordination.

The government had a weak case so they allowed me to retire, I had twenty-five years in so I took my retirement savings and capitalized a small payday lending business that turned out to be quite profitable. I hit the ground running and never looked back.

My payday lending business epitomized Indian economic develop and entrepreneurship. I hired my son and daughter to run the business and I managed to save a few bucks so after bi-pass surgery in 1999 I moved to Minneapolis, not just anywhere in Minneapolis but Edina, one of the richest Minneapolis suburbs.

Garry Trudeau, best know for the Doonsbury cartoon strip said that one did not move to Edina, one “acquires” Edina. 

It took a couple of years to break the reservation umbilical cord. They say you can take the Indian off the reservation, but you can’t take the reservation out of the Indian. I would come back to Bumduck about once a month for the first couple of years.

In 2005, returning from a visit back to the Nawizi Reservation Wakanka (Dakota for Old Lady or wife) and I drove our Cadillac Escalade into our basement parking space. As we unloaded our luggage another tenant of the apartment was unloading his luggage.

He also had an Escalade.

As we walked toward the elevator he started to compare the difference between our Escalades. 

Next, he points to the shirt I was wearing, a Ralph Lauren Polo, he also had one on.

I did not want to engage in one of those “I got more toys they you do” discussions so I showed him my Rolex and said, “You got one of these?” and he said no, so that ended the discussion on material possessions.

His name was Donnie Wager, it looks like way-ger, but is pronounced Way Gerr. He said partially because of is unique name he was selected to participate in a celebrity poker tourney in Las Vegas, that was going to be aired on NBC later that summer. We exchanged business cards and went our separate ways and to my surprise he called me a couple of days later and invited me to met one of his business partners who was living in a one of historic mansions on Pillsbury Avenue. 

At about this same time I had invested in a lake shore development project with my second cousin, he had 45 acres on the shores of one of the best lakes in South Dakota and I had the money.

While we were developing the property, one day, a realtor makes an offer to my partner for two million dollars for the property. My cousin promised to make me a millionaire if I invested in his property. We had a fifty-fifty deal, which meant that I was entitled to half of the two million dollar offer.

To make a long story short my ex-partner attempted to cut me out of the deal after the two million dollar offer. To my credit, before I spent any money I asked for a gift deed for half interest in the property to secure my investment. My ex-partner readily gave me half interest in the valuable property. The Bureau of Indian Affairs granted the request.

Once the offer of two million dollars was made my ex-partner attempted to invalidate the gift deed, claiming that he did not understand what he was doing because all of a sudden he was now old and frail, and did not have his reading glasses with him the day he signed the gift deed, and I had taken unfair advantage of him. 

Donnie gave me the address of the mansion on Pillsbury Avenue. The visit to the mansion on Pillsbury Avenue turned out to be quite interesting.

I was introduced to a young man who had made a lot of money wheeling and dealing in real estate. He claimed to have made his first hundred thousand dollars when he was only 15 years old.

I told him about the valuable lake shore property and he subsequently made several trips out to South Dakota to attempt to convince by former partner to allow him to sell the property. My ex-partner had convinced himself that he could prevail in federal court, and get the gift deed invalidated, and he would own the entire property, and cut me out of our deal.

Donnie’s friend name was Adam Marker, and for some reason he took an interest in me. I think he saw some potential in doing some type of real estate business dealings with Indian tribes in the future.

One time we went to a fancy restaurant, and after a five hundred dollar meal we get into my Escalade and drove him back to his mansion on Pillsbury Avenue. He hands me an envelope which I later discover contained five thousand dollars cash.

I asked why, he said it was a no strings attached gift. I took this money and later went to New Orleans and Dallas on a business trip. 

As I mentioned Adam Marker was quite the wheeler dealer, during the time I knew him he moved from the Pillsbury mansion to a million dollar home in the Minnetonka lake area, another snobby rich suburb of Minneapolis, and later lived in a mansion on Summit Avenue above St Paul.

I suppose this is nothing to brag about but I am sure I am the only Indian from Bumduck who has ever slept in a mansion. 

Mark’s greatest asset to me was his network with other businessman in Minneapolis. However, he had a one big problem, he was a convicted felon, he had spent time in a federal prison for some kind of fraud. I never asked him about the details.

Donnie the fellow I met in the basement of our apartment was later arrested for “stiffing” a casino in Las Vegas out of more then than a hundred grand. Apparently he had a serious gambling problem and lost his entire fortune.

I never heard from him since. If in fact it is true that the Mob has their hands in Vegas casino’s Donnie could be wearing cement shoes at the bottom of some river for all I know. 

Part Two

On one of my trips back to the Nawizi reservation I had coffee with one of my old gang member, Harold Four Skins.

“The only difference between our tribal government and the Mafia is the Mafia is organized,” Harold Four Skin said laughing. 

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Well, you know as well as I do how fucked up our tribal government is, I was out there last week and the same old dumb asses are filing to run for office again.”

“If we didn’t have gaming revenue nobody would work or serve the people for free.”

“Did you hear last year the so called leaders each took home over a hundred grand apiece.” 

“The governor of South Dakota only makes a hundred and twenty five thousand dollars a year and our tribal jack wagons averaged a hundred and forty grand each.”

“When I was in the Cities I came across a situation that involved the Mafia,” I said. “You won’t believe it, it was crazy how I even got involved with the Mob.”

“What do you mean the Mob, you mean the real Italian Mob like in the Godfather Movie.” Harold asked. 

“Ya, believe it or not,” I answered.

“From what I know the Mob today is not like the Mob in the movies, they been mobsters for a hundred years now so today there are pretty sophisticated. They still run their illegal rackets like loan sharking, gambling, sex, and drugs, but they funnel their profits into legitimate businesses.” And, they still make it work by threats and intimidation.”

“People who get in their way, or fuck with them can still get whacked.” “You just don’t hear about it.”

“Just recently the fed’s busted a Wop named Ligambi, a 71 year old mobster, they busted him and a couple of dozen other hoods from the Philadelphia area, so the mob still out there, in every major city in the United States.”

“You won’t believe this Harold, but I might have met some of those guys that got busted.”

“Shiiit, how does a reservation buck like you get involved with the Mob, I know you tangled with the local NDN Mob, but you’re bullshitting me about the Philly mob.” 

It’s a long story.” I said.

“I gotta’ go check on my lease income check right now, but the next time I see you I will tell you about it, I guarantee it will blow your mind.”

Back in the Cities, Adam Marker the wheeler dealer, asked me to help him strike a deal with one of the Minnesota Indian Tribes. I thought about what kind of deal would work.

Many of the casino rich tribes were looking for ways to diversify their new found revenue. I agreed to help him. Adam then introduced me to one of his business contacts who had some familiarity with the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

John his business contact said, “I worked with a northern Minnesota Chippewa Tribe a couple of years ago and I found out that the BIA has a ninety percent guarantee loan program, so if you have a project worth a million dollars you can get nine hundred thousand dollars from the guarantee loan program which means that you have to come up with the other hundred grand. I helped them get a convenience store and gas station funded.”

“I have some friends who are looking to buy into their most profitable restaurant business, they have five upscale restaurants in the United States and their looking to expand. Their all tapped out on their line of credit.”

“You want me to talk to them?” 

“Sure,” I said. What’s the name of their restaurants, I‘ll Google them?

“Chez Pare’, they specialize in French and American cuisine, they now own five really classy places.”

“Thanks, I’ll check out the BIA guaranteed loan program and pay a visit to the local Chez Pare people’”

I called Adam Marker, “I think I got a deal you might be interested in.”

“Tell me about it.” 

I briefed him on the Chez Pare’ restaurant.

He said, “I’ve ate there many times, nice place, and good food.”

“Well, the BIA has a guaranteed loan program which they guarantee up to ninety percent of the loan and I spoke with a tribe who is interested in buying into a new location in Chevy Chase Maryland, this new site has the potential to become one of their best income producing Chez Pare’s.”

“Is corporate Chez Pare’ willing to sell that one?

“I spoke with them yesterday, and the timing is perfect, I got a meeting with them again on Friday, but, briefly they said they have a $4.8 million dollar loan that they would like to pay off so they can expand.”

“Apparently the bank they have a loan with got hurt big time in the Wall Street melt down and is bugging them for a early payoff.”

“They have agreed to let me talk with the Lower Siouxdoe Tribe here in Minnesota.”

“The plan is to get a tribe or anyone for that matter to buy into the new site in Chevy Chase for the price of $5 million dollars. It would be ideal for a tribe that can use the BIA guaranteed loan program. Chez Pare’ will buy back the Chevy Chase restaurant in four years for seven millions dollars and during the four years that the Lower Siouxdoe will own the restaurant they will get all the revenue which is now about $1.5 million dollars a year net.”

So, the Siouxdoe Tribe can get six million dollars worth of revenue in four years and two million dollars when Chez Pare’ buys it back. Eight million dollars, minus the interests on the four year loan, not to shabby.”

“I’m going to see the Lower Siouxdoe tribal exec’s tomorrow, when I talked to them on the phone they seemed real interested.”

“The only worry I have is Indians don’t trust Indians, the fucking white man can come in and rip them off with all kinds of off the wall schemes, but as soon as an Indian comes with a deal they get real suspicious that another Indian might make some money.”

“So, stand by Adam, I might need a white guy standing beside me, maybe I should call them right now and tell them I’m bringing you along, I’ll call you right back.”

“Adam, they said I should bring you along, I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow and we’ll grab a bite to eat and I’ll brief you on all the details.”

“Are you sure you got a bank lined up who would be willing to do the guaranteed loan.”

“Hell ya, this sound like a good deal for everyone.” I got the ten percent assets, but I don’t think I have to put anything up, sounds to me like the Lower Siouxdoe Tribe has plenty of money.”

The next day Adam and I meet with the chairman, vice chairman, and secretary of the Lower Siouxdoe Tribe. I had audited financials of the five Chez Pare’ a signed letter of intent from the Chez Pare’ people.

“The Chez Pare’ people told me to tell you that they will arrange an all expense paid trip out to Chevy Chase to inspect the property.” 

At the end of the meeting they said, “We’ll get our attorneys to begin the due diligence, but I can tell you right now we’re really interested.” 

“The people who own the property are hot to trot to get the restaurant up an running ASAP,” I said, they have been bugging the Chez Pare’ to get someone in there.”

“Okay, Adam and I will go talk with the Chez Pare’ corporate folks tomorrow and we’ll schedule a meeting with all of us within a week.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you boys surprised me, you know how we are - us Indians like to talk shit about Indian Preference and talk shit about the white man, but when it comes right down to it we’re our own worst enemy I said.”

“I won’t let you down, this is a sweet deal.”

The Lower Siouxdoes executives officers knew me well enough that I could speak openly and candidly with them, and I guess that is what they liked about me. My guess is that they get enough sycophant’s coming through their offices everyday. 

The Chez Pare’ people were elated. The next day, on Friday morning, they immediately emailed the owners of the property in Chevy Chase. They did not get a response by the end of the day, no word from them on Saturday, Sunday or Monday, and by noon on Tuesday they were frantic.

“What the fuck,” Jeff the CEO of Chez Pare’ said out loud.

“What’s up with them people out there, they were hounding us everyday to get someone in their property, and now we don’t hear shit from them!”

“I better call them and see what’s up.”

“Your kidding me Mr. Goldberg, tell me your kidding me.”

“You people aren’t going to go with the Lower Siouxdoe people?”

“Why?”

After a lengthy discussion with Goldberg, Jeff slammed the phone down.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me, the cocksucker’s didn’t want the Lower Siouxdoe people in their property as tenants.”

“Why, Steve the CFO asked?”

“He was very cautious, but basically he said he didn’t want any Indians on their property.”

Part Three

To add salt to Chez Pare’s wound the Jew guys who owned the property out in Chevy Chase Maryland sued them for breach of contract, they demanded the entire four hundred and twenty thousand dollars Earnest Money that was agreed upon in earlier lease negotiations. 

The Lower Siouxdoe Tribe was more philosophical.

The chairman said, “It figures, the Jews are the most persecuted people in the history of the world, and now they get to turn the screws on the second most persecuted people in history.”

“Fuck them!”

“We get an average of five proposals every week from fly by nighter’s and shysters.”

“It sounded like a good deal Joe, we don’t blame you, bring us another good deal, but next time make sure their not racist bigots.”

Adam and I were invited to Chez Pare’ corporate headquarters to discuss our legal options. I offered to play the “Race Card.” Bill Smith, their corporate attorney said, “That’s going to be hard to prove, however, we have all the emails and we even have some recorded conversation which proves they were hot to trot to get someone in the Chevy Chase property.”

“What bites my ass is that that the want four hundred grand!”

“For sure we’ll counter sue.”

“I say play the race card, we get some negative publicity going on these guys, they might want to settle out of court.” I said.

“Well, lets do it, we don’t have many options.”

As part of our strategy we made sure our story was told in several restaurant trade journeys and in the Chevy Chase Gazette.

After the usual legal wrangling, four months later, a magistrate judge in Maryland ordered mediation on the matter. Along with the Chez Pare’s CEO and attorney we made our appearance. After the judge heard both sides, the parties decided to walk away, no further legal action.

By using the race card I saved the Chez Pare’ folks over four hundred grand.

Back in Minneapolis I was treated to the best filet mignon ever and after the meal they presented me with a sizeable gratuity check. I looked at the check and called Adam Marker and much to his surprise I gave him half of it. I didn’t have any money of my own in this deal and I won’t even have been in the game if I had never met Donnie and Adam.

I went to Florida for the winter and one day I was sun bathing on the Fort Lauderdale beaches and I thought why don’t I try to go after the BIA guarantee loan on my own. The BIA loan program website stated that individual Indians were encouraged to participate. I called Chez Pare’ headquarters and spoke with CEO and asked if they still needed five million dollars. 

“Hell yes, what do you have in mind?”

“I’ll apply for a BIA loan guarantee.”

“I have some value lake shore property in South Dakota that I think I can get a Trust Mortgage on for my ten percent.“ 

“I’ll tell you what,” the Chez Pare’ CEO said, “I have been discussing with our board the various options because the bank is still bugging us, so we are willing to sell our best income producing restaurant.”

“Which one is that,” I asked? 

“The one in New Jersey, across the river from Philadelphia, it’s a great location, a lot of wealthy people live nearby.”

“We got the four years of audited financial you can look at.”

“We found a bank in the Philadelphia area that was willing to participate in the BIA loan guarantee program. This was a huge surprise in view of the economic slump that was being experienced in America.”

“When you coming back from Florida?”

“As soon as the snow melts in Minneapolis, but we can do most of the leg work over the phone, emails, and via the internet.”

“Ok, sounds like a plan.”

Chez Pare’ and I put together our loan guarantee package that we forwarded to the Washington DC Bureau of Indian Affairs Office of Energy and Indian Economic Development.

The lazy Washington bureaucrats stalled around as long as they could so I called the South Dakota congressional people and they apparently lit a fire under some bureaucrats ass, because to our amazement I was approved for a five million dollar loan.

The BIA folks were use to funding “bead and trinket” shops, C-Stores, and gas stations on the reservation. My loan request was a think outside of the box proposal.

I proposed to take money from rich white people in New Jersey and transfer the net proceeds to the Nawizi Reservation in South Dakota and create jobs and other economic opportunities.

Part four

I flew to Washington. The Philadelphia Banking people came to Washington and we signed the loan documents and then I took the train to Philadelphia where I established a checking account with the Philadelphia bank.

I made arrangement to forward the net process from the New Jersey restaurant to the Nawizi Reservation tribal credit union.

I also applied for a New Jersey liquor license, which was approved.

I went to the Chez Pare’ restaurant in New Jersey and introduced myself to the stafff. I told the staff that nothing would be changed, except the ownership.

Business was good, in fact, the revenues increased by five percent the first six months under my ownership. A local newspaper reported the ownership change noting the fact that a real live Indian from an Indian reservation in South Dakota had purchased the Chez Pare’ restaurant.

I believe the increase in business was due to the fact that many customers came to view the real live Indian. I threw away all my JC Penny trousers and shirts and bought Cole Haan shoes and clothes from Nordstroms, I dressed the part of a successful Indian businessman.

I made a habit of reserving a table and invited curious customers to dine with me and I would tell them “Indian Stories.” They loved it.

One day the Maitre d’ came to my table and said pointing to an obvious looking Italian man standing near the entrance that he would like to have lunch with me.

“May I join you?”

“Sure, have a seat, have you ordered?”

After dinner he slides uncomfortable close to me and lowers his voice.

“I’m going to come straight to the point.”

“My associates and I are going to buy into this restaurant, and you really don‘t have a choice.” 

“The way we look at it Chief, you’re way over your head!”

“What?”

“Did I hear you right?”

“Did you just call me Chief?”

“You hard of hearing, Chief, he growled?” 

Restraining myself I said, “For your information I get compensated from the VA for hearing loss caused by loud explosions and gunshots.”

He looked surprised at my answer.

“Listen up Che Cazzo (you dick)!” “I am a combat veteran and in the “Nam” we use say that payback was a mo’fo, and I don’t take lightly to threats.”

“Now you listen real close, I am not going to report this to the FBI, but I am going find out who you are and I am going to find out everything about you.”

“I am going to find out where you eat and where you shit.”

“How many kids you have and where your wife gets her hair done.”

“Have you ever seen that movie The Thief, with James Caan in it?

“Ya, the Italian said.

“And?”

“You remember when the mob screwed him over he went right to their house and blew the mo’fo’s away?”

He started to get up to leave. I grabbed his suit coat and yanked him back down.

“Sit down, I’m not done.”

“You wop’s got Lucky Luciano, Sammy the Bull, Bugsy Siegel, Tony Banana’s, Scar Face, Vinny, Billy Bat, Tough Tony, Big Tuna……”

“Before you leave I want you to listen in on a conversation.”

“I am going to call the Nawizi Reservation right now and talk to my Indian Paesano’s (home boys) - Crazy Horse, Crazy Bear, Fierce Bear, Loves War, Takes Scalp, Kills Warrior, Red Tomahawk, Shot With Two Arrows, and of course Geroni-fucking-mo!”

He watched intently as I dialed my cell phone. 

“What up Prairie Nigger?” I asked.

“Hey Itancan (boss) Joe, we were just talking about you.”

“We got a hot Moccasin Game going on right now, everyone is here, and we’re playing for our EBT (food stamp) cards.”

“How’s New Jersey treating you?”

“I got a little problem Fierce Bear,” I said.

“I need a big favor.”

“Can you round up the boys and fly out to New Jersey tomorrow?”

“I’ll pay for everything, but I need you here ASAP.”

“Sure, no problem Itancan Joe, we’re all on vacation anyways.”

I looked the Italian guy in the eye and said, “You got the Soprano’s, we got the Sioux Prano’s and most of them ain’t got shit to lose.”

“Us Fighting Sioux have a thing we call Mitakuyapi Owasin which means all seventy-six thousand, one hundred and sixteen of us are all related.”

“You screw with one of us, you screw with all of us!”

“Now Vaffanculo!”

The next day ten of the ugliest, meanest looking Sioux’s from the Nawizi Reservation flew into the New Jersey airport.

I did not take them near the Chez Pare’ restaurant for fear that their presence would ruin business, but I made sure their presence was known elsewhere, they stayed for a week.

I never heard from the Mob again.

Coincidentally, a month later Osama Bin Ladin, code name Geronimo was killed.

The end.