Chapter sixteen of “Where the Salmon Run” written by Trova Heffernan and sponsored by Washington Secretary of State Sam Reed.

The highest flood ever recorded on the Nisqually River lashed out in heavy rains during the winter of 1996. Rivers swelled across the Pacific Northwest in one of the century’s great weather disasters. Floodwaters stole lives and damages mounted.

The Nisqually had already breached its banks when the floodgates at Alder Dam opened. A mighty release of water pushed a wall of debris cascading down the river. The powerful force gained momentum, downing alder and cedar trees, destroying homes and damaging septic tanks. “The whole of Franks Landing looked like a bomb had hit it,” recalls Tom Keefe. “In front of Maiselle’s house, the entire riverbank had been ripped away, carving a fifteen foot deep ravine up near her house.”

Debris and logs rose from the water like claws when Billy, in a wool hat and parka, boarded a jet boat to survey the aftermath and check on his sister Maiselle. The floodwaters surrounded homes, in some cases rising to windows and the wheel wells of parked cars. Billy maneuvered the jet boat up to Maiselle’s home and shouted above the hum of the motor, “Woo-hoo! We’re coming in!”

Frank’s Landing was home to generations of family. One by one, Billy checked on stranded family members. Despite staggering losses of homes and personal property, the family weathered the flood.

“You live along the river, you live with floods,” Billy says in hindsight. “This is what our land is. It isn’t up on the hill, or over there, or anywhere. It’s right here. Of course, now hundred-year floods are coming sooner and sooner.”

The big flood of 1996 also made a mess of things at Wa He Lut Indian School. When the school doors opened twenty years before, Maiselle fulfilled a dream. In 1974, she brought a teacher to the Landing. The educator and four students were the seeds of Wa He Lut. Vowing to instill Native pride and confidence in its students, Wa He Lut took its name after the wiry warrior who got even with the betrayer of Chief Leschi. It was Willie Sr.’s idea. “Nothing defeated Wa He Lut the man, and so nothing will defeat our school,” he reasoned. Teachers at the Indian school strove to give students a better education than many Native children were receiving in the public schools, especially during the struggle for treaty fishing rights.

Then came the flood. “The school was completely wiped out,” Billy remembers. “The smoke shop was wiped out. Everything was wiped out. We were devastated.”

Beneath the surface, floodwaters weakened the foundation of portable classrooms beyond repair. A sea of muddy water poured into the new school gym, a $1.5 million project that had just opened its doors that September.

The flood destroyed the riprap that held the bank in place. Wa He Lut received $402,000 from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, but it wasn’t enough to build a new school.

After his tenure in Magnuson’s office, Tom Keefe had become superintendent at Wa He Lut. Casting aside hard feelings, he contacted a member of Slade Gorton’s staff. The influential veteran of the U.S. Senate held a powerful seat on the Appropriations Committee. As Keefe candidly admitted to the staff person, Gorton certainly didn’t owe him any favors. There was no love lost between the senator and the tribes. Gorton’s role in the contested Boldt case was engrained in tribal memory. Indians said he was still causing trouble. In 1995, Gorton slashed federal assistance for Native Americans almost 30 percent. Even so, Keefe and Billy managed to work a deal with the senator.

“It was an easy call to make,” Gorton said. “Whatever my disagreements with the tribes, there is no question that the federal government should provide the best possible education.” Gorton secured roughly half the cost of the new school, $2 million. The Bureau of Indian Affairs financed a grant for $2 million of the total construction cost. Building the school was a complicated proposition. “It’s sitting on sand,” Keefe explains. “It’s basically sitting where the river used to flow. We had to build it up to a hundred-year flood stage. Even with what’s there now and the beautiful school, it’s still sitting in a zone where that whole place could be washed off any time. With Mother Nature, It’s impossible to engineer against these kinds of things.”

“We got back in business again,” Billy says, “with the help of the United States Congress, Senator Gorton, all our delegation, Congressman Norm Dicks. I mean, we just got in and we built that school in two years.”

The school was transformed from a scattered group of modest trailers to an 18,000-square-foot gathering center inspired by an Indian longhouse. “After the flood, we all agreed to rekindle the spirit of the Indian long house, which allows for no bitterness about the past,” Keefe says. “Now, the challenge for Franks Landing is to put that long house spirit into the new building.”

The roughly 125 students who attend Wa He Lut are exposed to Indian languages and culture. “We’re proud of that school,” Billy says. “We have dictionaries of our language. These little kids are talking Indian now.” The school is primarily funded through the Bureau of Indian Education and receives supplementary funding through an agreement with the North Thurston School District and the smoke shop at Frank’s Landing.

Over the years, Wa He Lut has struggled with low academic assessment scores, but school spirit remains strong. Billy is an active school board member and maintains a strong presence. Inside hangs his famous canoe. “Looks pretty good up there; there’s a lot of memories riding in that canoe,” Billy said as the symbol of the fish wars was hoisted to the school ceiling.

A couple of weeks before the dedication of the new Wa He Lut Indian School, Sugar Frank pulled his brother Tanu aside. “The Muckleshoots are looking for you,” Sugar told him.

Kerry Marquez, a Muckleshoot, was scouring historical documents for Muckleshoot children who had been adopted outside the tribe and lost in the system. She discovered a letter from Norma Frank requesting enrollment for her child, Tanu Frank. On a whim, Marquez called the Nisqually Tribe. It turned out that Marquez is Tanu’s biological cousin. She had been looking for him for years. Tanu connected with his cousin and aunt and eventually met his biological mother, Georgina Daniels. Billy says he and Norma had no idea Tanu’s biological family had been searching for him. Eventually, to enroll in the Muckleshoot Tribe, Tanu took his birth name, John Elliott. Today, he considers himself fortunate to have reconnected with his biological mother and for the life he had with “Ma”— Norma—and for his continuing relationship with Billy. “We were lucky to have him as a father,” says Tanu. He’s all about his family and his extended family.” 

  billy Franks, chapter 16, submerged, Trova Heffernan, where the salmon run