Not all heroes wear capes; some sport Native American bolo ties.
Ray Halbritter is something of a real-life Superman, a fearless political warrior who, for the best part of 50 years, has faced down villainous foes intent on oppressing both him and his people.
For more than two centuries the Oneida Indian Nation, once a key ally of the United States in the Revolutionary War, was crushed under the boot of American governance, the lands stolen and the people’s very existence all but forgotten. A scion of this bleak history, Halbritter lived in an impoverished community on the Nation’s sacred homelands in New York state, spending much of his childhood with only one parent after his father died in a car accident.
Here, there was no plumbing, no water systems, no roads to speak of, just rutted dirt tracks. Beyond the reservation borders, prejudice remained deep-rooted, sometimes malicious.
“I thought to myself, well, what if we were the rich people? What if we were the people who had the money?”
Unlike some of his peers, Halbritter was fortunate enough to attend college, but left after a few years to become a union ironworker.
And then one fateful day, another kick in the teeth from the system – and more tragedy. Halbritter’s uncle and aunt were burned to death in a trailer inferno after the local fire department refused to send help.
The incident was a watershed moment, convincing Halbritter that he needed to return to the classroom and arm himself with enough knowledge to upend existing power structures in the United States.
“At the time I wondered, our people wondered, what is this world? What is our destiny?” says Halbritter, Representative of the Oneida Indian Nation since 1975 and its CEO since 1990. “We could have got sympathy from wealthy people, some donations to help us establish a fire department [of our own] … but then I thought to myself, well, what if we were the rich people? What if we were the people who had the money?”
Salvation was found in the unlikeliest of places: the bingo hall.
An inspired startup
Inspired by volunteer fire services who held bingo nights to raise money for their underfunded operations, and viscerally aware that the Nation had to forge independent income streams, Halbritter set about staging his own events.
On the inaugural evening, he stood in as the caller, reading out the numbers from little wooden balls. To this day, Halbritter still seems delighted at making that initial US$75.
But true to form, as the bingo nights grew in popularity, and revenue, clouds of upheaval were gathering on the horizon.
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“We did a fundraiser for the United Police Benevolent Association, but what we didn’t know is that the police used that opportunity to do an investigation on us for operating bingo without a license. And they issued warrants for my arrest to prevent us,” Halbritter says.
What followed was a series of protracted legal wrangles with the United States government over complex issues related to gaming, trust lands, property and sales tax collection – even as, by 1993, Halbritter’s modest bingo hall idea had morphed into the powerhouse that is now Turning Stone Resort Casino.
Using what he had learned at Syracuse University and Harvard Law School, Halbritter spearheaded his tribe’s cause for decades, culminating in a 2013 agreement, which ended all disputes between the Oneida Indian Nation and New York State and recognized the Nation’s sovereignty over its land in Madison and Oneida Counties.
Building a legacy
Moreover, the victory cleared the path for a string of successful businesses, a portfolio that has expanded beyond the Nation’s core expertise in gaming, hospitality and entertainment to include cannabis, maple syrup, convenience stores, a lakeside family resort and a large technology company – all designed to financially enrich, and socially advance, the Oneida Indian Nation and the generations who will follow.
The empire’s golden goose, however, remains the business that flowered from a few wooden bingo balls: Turning Stone Resort Casino. Today, what was once empty corn fields is now an 825-room facility that attracts up to five million visitors per year, who flock to Verona, New York, for the 11,600-square-meter gaming floor, a 5,000-seat concert arena, and three 18-hole championship golf courses.
On the back of this traction, the resort and all of Turning Stone Enterprises generate a more than US$1 billion annual economic impact in upstate New York along with over US$610 million in annual direct spending, according to Oxford Economics, one of the world’s foremost independent global advisory firms. A recent US$370 million investment into the largest evolution of Turning Stone Resort Casino in two decades, to be built by long-term construction partner The Hayner Hoyt Corporation, will deliver the new Grand Expo conference center and a new 258-room hotel tower, among other attractions.
“This will always be our home. And that’s why the US$370 million is being invested here, creating thousands of jobs just through the construction.”
What’s more, with 5,000 culturally diverse staff members (Turning Stone Enterprises, the parent organization for the Oneida Indian Nation’s business operations, partners with a refugee charity), the casino is one of the largest employers in upstate New York.
“We’re not going to the Bahamas or Mexico or some other country because of tax rates,” Halbritter says. “This will always be our home. And that’s why the US$370 million is being invested here, creating thousands of jobs just through the construction. We’re keeping the philosophy that we want to work with the locals, and the descendants of the colonials who moved here, to make a better community for all of us.
“We’ve created our own police department, our own court system, and we help with issues that help with policing the region.”
For those gone before
The memory of Halbritter’s uncle and aunt’s tragic death is still painful, but the Oneida Indian Nation now has its own police department, healthcare facilities, housing and education programs and a new 8,361-square-meter Community Center offering Nation Members resources for cultural engagement, community building and more.
Halbritter’s unquenchable collective spirit, a feeling that dovetails with Native American values of mutual trust and brotherhood, is carried over to his alliances with suppliers, many of whom have been by the CEO’s side since day one.
“We prefer local vendors and suppliers wherever possible,” he says. “We’re all part of the same fabric. That’s why relationships are critically important.”
“Our people were very hospitable. That was our nature. That was why we welcomed the first colonists.”
As such, rather than dine out on his reputation as an epoch-defining statesman, Halbritter is in his element when rubbing shoulders with his staff, preferring to deliver internal excellence awards in person. Pedestals are clearly not part of the cultural furniture.
“It comes out of our tradition,” he says. “Our people were very hospitable. That was our nature. That was why we welcomed the first colonists. That’s why we wanted to work with them. We didn’t call them kings or queens. We were brothers. We referred to them as equals.”
Spoken like a true hero.
