The 1980 Senate race between Magnuson and Gorton was Billy’s first major foray into mainstream electoral politics. He campaigned relentlessly on behalf of his new friend, Warren Magnuson, and doggedly against his longtime adversary, Slade Gorton. For all his power and prestige, Magnuson found himself in the fight of his political life.
Maggie’s well-worn senate seat had long held a political giant— one-half a super-duo with Scoop Jackson. The two were coined the “Gold Dust Twins.” The moniker reflected sizable contracts and federally funded projects the two senators secured for Washington State. Maggie’s role as chairman of the Appropriations Committee greatly influenced how the federal government divided a half-trillion-dollar budget. “He is scrupulously fair with federal funds; one half for Washington state, one half for the rest of the country,” quipped Walter Mondale.
Magnuson touted his experience as appropriations chair in the campaign. “But federal fiscal restraint has become attractive even to voters in Washington,” observed Time Magazine. “As a result, Magnuson’s pork-barrel record is no longer the asset that it was in past campaigns.”
In a clever spin, the Gorton camp declared it was time to give Maggie a gold watch and elect “Washington’s next great senator.” Because Gorton was known for his vehement opposition to the Boldt Decision, the campaign focused on the lingering bitterness over the fish wars. “Sportsmen for Gorton,” they printed on bumper stickers.
Pundits mused that the presidential race was too close to call. But Ronald Reagan handily defeated Jimmy Carter in a landslide that sent Magnuson—and a dozen or so Democratic Party senators— packing. “Vote Republican for a Change,” the party appealed. Voters listened.
At a fundraiser in early 1981 to pay off campaign debt, Magnuson’s wife, Jermaine, noted beautiful flowers scattered about that would soon go to waste. She leaned toward Adams, “Can’t you load up as many as you can and take them to Billy’s families at Frank’s Landing?”
As the years went by, the friendship between the retired senator and the tribal leader grew. Billy helped commission a totem pole, carved by master craftsmen from the Lummi Nation, to present to Magnuson on his eighty-sixth birthday. The yellow cedar work of art still looks out toward Puget Sound from Maggie’s home on the south slope of Queen Anne Hill. It reveals the story of the senator’s rise as a friend of the environment, the tribes, and the fish.
“Billy always took the time to drop in on Senator Magnuson, bring him some smoked salmon and just sit and share stories about the state,” Keefe remembered. “They were quite a pair.”
When complications related to diabetes took Magnuson’s life in May 1989, his wife personally invited Billy to the memorial service, a grand affair at St. Mark’s Cathedral in Seattle. One thousand people bid the longtime politician farewell.
More than a year after the Boldt Decision was upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court, tribes celebrated a second crucial court victory. Phase II of U.S. v. Washington, the environmental question, was decided in the fall of 1980. An excess of legal issues during the original trial had prompted Judge Boldt to parcel certain questions of merit for later consideration by the court. Phase II focused in part on the government’s responsibility to maintain adequate fish habitat and in part on hatchery fish. Judge William Orrick ruled in favor of the tribes on both counts. If the government backed out of its responsibility to provide suitable salmon habitat, Orrick opined, Indian fishermen “would eventually be reduced to the right to dip one’s net into the water . . . and bring it out empty.” Hatchery fish should be allocated, Judge Orrick further held, because they existed to replenish dwindling numbers of wild fish.
Big business flinched at Orrick’s decision. Anticipating a lengthy appeal process that would put business permits on ice, sixteen companies formed the Northwest Water Resources Committee. The committee filed an amicus brief in the state’s appeal of the opinion.
Tribes viewed the friend-of-the-court brief as anything but friendly to their treaty rights. “If the big guys want to negotiate with the tribes, they shouldn’t be doing it with one eye on the courthouse,” Keefe told Billy. They decided to fight back with something the business world clearly understood: money. Keefe and Billy pitched the idea of a national tribal boycott to Bob Rose, reporter for the Spokesman Review. Pleased with his article, they made a flier to circulate at a national conference of tribal leaders. That’s when they bumped into Art McDonald, director of communications for Puget Power, in an elevator at the Spokesman Review. The bespectacled, affable spokesperson looked surprised to see them.
“Billy, what are you doing here?” McDonald asked.
Keefe handed him the flier.
“We’re calling for a national boycott of your company and their friends,” Billy told him, as the elevator doors closed.
