###

This story was originally published by CalMatters. Sign up for their newsletters.

###

In the latest battle over the future of gambling in California, privately run cardrooms notched a temporary victory over tribal casinos when a judge blocked state regulators from banning blackjack at the gambling halls.

The regulations from Attorney General Rob Bonta’s Bureau of Gambling Control threaten to wipe out taxes on table games on which many local governments across California rely.

But whether the state’s 80 or so private poker rooms can keep their lucrative business model — and keep pulling gamblers away from tribal casinos — was hardly settled by San Francisco Superior Court Judge Richard Darwin’s preliminary injunction last month.

At least one former lawmaker says that’s cynically good news for the state’s politicians.

Democrats and Republicans have accepted millions of dollars in campaign donations from the rival gaming factions, as tribes have sought to use the state’s political system to put cardrooms out of the blackjack business.

“It keeps the fight going; it keeps the two very powerful interests caring about what goes on at the Legislature, and therefore it keeps the campaign contributions moving as well,” said Mike Gatto, a former Democratic lawmaker from Los Angeles.

Twenty-seven of the state’s casino-owning tribes have donated at least $15.8 million to current members of state Legislature, according to the CalMatters Digital Democracy database.

Twenty-six of the cardrooms and affiliated companies have given them at least $2.8 million, according to Digital Democracy. Cardrooms are private businesses that host poker and other card games.

Bonta, too, has benefited from the dispute. He is up for reelection this year. Cardrooms have donated at least $244,000 to Bonta since 2012, according to Digital Democracy, compared to $531,000 from tribes.

The lopsided donations from the tribes did not affect the attorney general’s decision to pursue the regulations that were set to take effect this week, said Bonta’s campaign spokesperson, Jonathan Underland. The Attorney General’s Office referred an interview request about the campaign donations to Underland.

Bonta stopped accepting campaign donations from the gambling factions before he began implementing the regulations, Underland said.

“Contributions have never impacted the Attorney General’s decision-making process,” Underland said in a text message.

Dispute over ‘house-banked’ games

Underland cited ballot initiatives that gave tribes the right to negotiate compacts with the state to host Las Vegas-style casino games. The tribes have fiercely defended their exclusive gambling rights ever since. They argue gaming is a lifeline that has helped their historically disenfranchised communities out of poverty.

“California voters made their decision on tribal gaming in 1998, and reaffirmed it two years later,” Underland said. “The constitution is a hard line, and Rob Bonta is committed to enforcing it.”

The tribes contend cardrooms have unscrupulously violated the rules prohibiting anyone but tribes from offering “house-banked” table games including blackjack, the most lucrative.

The card clubs get around the prohibition by contracting with third-party companies that serve the role as the “house” or the “bank.”

These third-party employees typically sit at tables next to the cardroom dealers. The third-party employee plays no part in the game except to collect players’ bets and pay out winnings. The dealers must periodically offer the opportunity for the players to act as the bank. Almost every customer declines. The card clubs collect fees from each game.

Bonta agreed with the tribes that the cardrooms were violating the rules and issued regulations his attorney general predecessors, Kamala Harris and Xavier Becerra, started to implement, but never finished.

Darwin’s preliminary injunction found that Bonta’s office likely exceeded its authority by banning the cardrooms’ most popular table games. The ruling is in effect for 45 days. The Attorney General’s Office will argue its case in court on June 30.

A spokesperson for the California Nations Indian Gaming Association didn’t return an interview request.Kyle Kirkland, a Fresno cardroom owner and president of the California Gaming Association, applauded the temporary ruling and believes his industry will prevail.“We are a legitimate industry, we have had decades of lawful operation,” Kirkland said. “We operate legally; we provide incredible support to our employees and our host communities.”

Should the cardrooms win, it would be the tribes’ second legal defeat in less than a year.

Political cash flows in

In October, a Sacramento judge threw out a lawsuit the tribes had filed against cardrooms. It was a test of a 2024 law Gov. Gavin Newsom signed that empowered tribes to sue their rivals. To that point, the tribes had been unable to sue the private cardroom companies for unfair business practices. The tribes are sovereign governments so they lacked legal standing in state courts.

Senate Bill 549 gave the tribes one shot to resolve their dispute in Sacramento County Superior Court. The judge found federal law superseded the one Newsom signed.

The stakes are high outside of casinos since some cities receive nearly half their budgets from cardroom taxes, so a tribal victory would jeopardize money for police, firefighters and other local services.

San Jose officials say that city alone receives $30 million each year from cardrooms, enough to fund 150 police officers or 133 firefighters.

The fight over SB 549 was one of the most costly political battles of the two-year legislative session that concluded in 2024, and gambling entities poured cash into legislative campaigns.

A bipartisan coalition of lawmakers, many of them with large tribal casinos in their districts, pushed for the gambling measure, while a smaller group of lawmakers with cardrooms in their districts opposed it.

The opposing gambling interests donated at least $4.3 million to the Legislature during that two-year session, according to the Digital Democracy database.

The tribes pushed for the bill after spending millions on a failed 2022 sports betting initiative that similarly would have let the tribes sue cardrooms.

Facing what they saw as an existential threat, cardrooms responded to the bill’s introduction with a massive lobbying blitz. In 2023, Hawaiian Gardens Casino spent $9.1 million on lobbying, the second most any company reported to state regulators. Only the international oil giant, Chevron Corp., spent more that year.

After Newsom signed the law, the cardroom industry spent more than $3 million that fall in retaliation against four lawmakers who played key roles in passing the bill.

Three of the targeted candidates lost their re-election, including the bill’s author, Democratic Sen. Josh Newman of Fullerton.

###

Digital Democracy engineer Alexis Ramirez contributed to this story.

Danny “Dan” Gene Shields
June 11, 1957 – May 17, 2026

It is with the heaviest of hearts that we share the passing of Dan “The Man” Shields. He passed suddenly and far too soon on Sunday, May 17, 2026. He was a beloved son, husband, father, brother, uncle, cousin and friend to so many.

Dan was born June 11, 1957, at Redwood Memorial Hospital in Fortuna. He was the eldest of three siblings — his brother Cody Lewis, and his sister Sandy Shields, who preceded him in death.

A true jack of all trades, Dan lived a life full of adventure and purpose — from guiding rafting trips across Northern California and Oregon, with the Rogue and Trinity Rivers holding a special place in his heart, to opening the Pizza Factory in Arcata and McKinleyville, along with The Coffee Break in Sunny Brae, to his years as a contractor for College of the Redwoods.

Dan was never one to sit still for long. That restless spirit eventually led him to his dream job as Property Manager of Sugar Bowl Ranch in Willow Creek, where he spent 26 beautiful years tending the land and animals he loved, alongside his wife, Jennifer Shields, his daughter, Dani Shields and his son, Jared Foster, who also preceded him in death.

Dan had a heart of gold and never met a stranger. If you had a problem, there was a good chance he had a solution. No challenge was ever too big. He was a natural connector, the kind of man who could strike up a conversation with anyone and leave them laughing before it was over. He had a rare gift for drawing people out of their shells and making them feel seen. If you were lucky enough to call him your friend, you were lucky enough. He lived life to the fullest and was so proud of everything he built for his family. He was without a doubt one of the hardest working people with a true passion for what he did.

Dan leaves behind a legacy of a life genuinely well lived. The world won’t be the same without him, but it is better for having had him. His spirit will live on through the land he loved and all those who knew and loved him.

 He is survived by his wife, Jennifer Shields; his daughter, Dani Shields (Jake Zimmerman); his grandson, Emmett Foster (Caitlin Madsen/Mark); his mother, Colleen Lewis (John Lewis); his brother, Cody Lewis (Heather Lewis); and countless uncles, cousins, friends and chosen family whose lives he touched deeply.

In lieu of flowers the family would love to hear and see any memories you have to share. To do so please visit this link.

To honor Dan and the big, vivacious life he lived, a celebration of life will be held in July. Details to follow soon.

###

Last of a three-part series.

PREVIOUSLY:

• MUSICAL MEMOIR: When Sunnyland Slim Tells You to Take Route 66, You Should Take Route 66
• MUSICAL MEMOIR: I Was the Drummer for Two of the World’s Greatest Blues Men, and They Agreed That I Did Not Know How to Play the Drums

###

After my difficult tour playing drums in San Francisco with blues legends Sunnyland Slim and Mike Bloomfield, I wondered if I’d ever get another chance to play with great musicians again.

I was determined to become a professional drummer and give myself another shot. I got that chance in spring 1976.

When Sunnyland drove back to Chicago in December 1972, I stayed in San Francisco with my friend and harmonica player Harry Duncan. I was not going back for another frigid winter to Wisconsin, my home state.

After the November 1972 Sunnyland/Bloomfield tour, I started playing club dates with a local rhythm and blues band, The Alligators. I also did gigs with the legendary Chess Records session guitarist Luther Tucker as well as a talented Bay Area blues pianist and singer, Dave Alexander.

I found a San Francisco drum teacher, Bob Rose, in 1973 and every week learned the rudiments, the math and how to read rhythm charts.

Money was tight and without much cash the Bay Area wasn’t a lot of fun. I missed my friends and family in Wisconsin and decided to move there in summer 1974. My parents let me stay with them while I worked a summer job for the city of Racine.

Harry called me one evening and asked if I would like to play a show in Madison with Sunnyland, Harry and guitarist Louis Myers, a member of the Chess Records’ recording sessions rhythm section, The Aces. I’d heard him on records with the great Chicago harmonica player Little Walter, such as l Hate to See You Go.

It would be my first time playing with Sunnyland since that ill-fated 1972 tour. I was excited to get a chance to redeem myself.

I did the show with them at a small Madison club. On the break, Sunnyland said, “Paul, you’re playing right. You’ve got a backbeat.”

Getting Sunnyland’s approval lifted my spirits. I felt like I was on my way to becoming a pro.

At the end of the show, Harry asked Sunnyland if I could play with them at the Toronto Island Blues Festival scheduled for the next weekend, July 13 and 14, 1974. Slim said yes.

We left Chicago on Friday morning and drove eight hours straight to Toronto. With no internet and no information readily available about the festival, I had no idea how big it was.

We took a ferry Saturday morning to Toronto Island with our equipment. We got off the ferry and were driven to the backstage area. I was stunned to see an audience of 20,000.

In addition to the Sunnyland band, there were Junior Wells and Buddy Guy, Roy Buchanan, John Lee Hooker and Howling Wolf. The view from the stage was astounding. There were blues fans stretched out in front of me as far as I could see. The energy was mind-altering, the largest crowd I’ve ever played for to this day.

Sunnyland was pleased with my drumming. By the end of the summer, I returned to San Francisco to try to establish myself there. But it was not really happening. I kept taking drum lessons, practicing and playing occasional shows.

I got an offer to join a guy I’d played with in San Francisco, Fortuna native Jerry Cooper, to play with him and his wife Karen in a country band. The Coopers were offered six months of gigs, every Friday and Saturday for $50 per night per musician at Rio Dell’s Rendezvous Lounge in Humboldt County. That was good money in those days.

I took the gig and moved to Humboldt in March 1975. It was far better than what I was doing in San Francisco.

A second tour with Sunnyland

Harry called in March 1976 and asked if I could get away for a five-week West Coast tour with Sunnyland and the great guitarist Hubert Sumlin, who played and recorded with Howling Wolf for 20 years. Of course, I said yes.

By then, I was living in Arcata and playing country music three nights a week with Ronnie Tharp and the Sons of Redwood Country at Harvey’s Club, a honky-tonk near Fortuna. It was a 9 to 1:30 in the morning gig paying $50 a night. My life was consumed with playing gigs, practicing and exploring the beautiful outdoors of Humboldt.

Harry put together a solid band to play with Sunnyland and Hubert: the up-and-coming Portland-based harmonica player and singer Paul deLay; Chicago bassist Bombay Carter; Sunnyland’s girlfriend, Chicago singer Big Time Sarah; and me. In mid-April I drove to a house in San Francisco where we were all staying.

We started our tour the next day. The first show we played was at the Inn of the Beginning in Cotati, in Sonoma County.

Hubert Sumlin took a liking to me and vice versa. We’d hang out after shows and days off talking about music and life. He liked the way I played. He was fantastic, playing with joy, creativity and precision. When he was on stage he transformed – looking like he was in his mid-20s rather than his mid-40s.

“Paul, you keep playing and music will make you beautiful,” he said.

Paul deLay, a tall, heavy-set white singer and harmonica player, impressed Sunnyland and Hubert.

“Big Paul (I was Little Paul) is going to be a star,” Sunnyland said. “The white boy can sing and play that harp. The man’s a monster.” That was Sunnyland’s highest compliment for a musician.

Playing music wIth this band was exciting and fun. We got better as the tour rolled on. But there were some bumps in the road.

After playing a half-dozen shows, including two nights at the Jambalaya Club in Arcata, we performed at the Euphoria Club in Eugene. The Robert Cray Band opened for us.

Our bassist, Bombay Carter, was complaining about not being an equal headliner on the show posters along with Sunnyland and Hubert. If he didn’t get equal billing, he threatened Sunnyland he would quit the band and fly back to Chicago when we got to Seattle in a few days.

“You’re not a headliner with me and Hubert,” Slim sternly told him. “If you don’t like it, you can leave. I’ll find someone else to play bass.”

Sunnyland talked to me in the dressing room while the Robert Cray Band played their opening set.

“Paul, go down and check out the bass player,” he said. “If you think he could play for us, ask him if he could finish the tour. Ask him to sit in with us at the beginning of our set.”

I was knocked out by the Cray Band, my first time seeing them. Robert Cray had so much charisma and talent as a singer and guitarist. I knew he was going to be a star. The bassist, Richard Cousins, was excellent and possessed a commanding stage presence. After their set I asked Richard if he would be available to finish the tour with Sunnyland if Carter left. When he said yes, I asked him to play the first few songs with us at the beginning of our set. As far as I know, he had never before been on stage with Chicago blues musicians.

The first song Cousins played with us was Sunnyland’s uptempo shuffle Get to my Baby.Cousins fit right in with a smooth walking bass line. Sunnyland nodded his approval from across the stage.

Sunnyland then kicked off Ray Charles’ driving Latin rhythm song What’d I Sayon a Hammond B-3 organ. Everything was grooving along when Sunnyland finished singing the second verse and called for Hubert to take a solo.

Slim always told his musicians to take one or two solo verses and then finish to make room for his vocal. He disliked Grateful Dead-style jamming.

“A guitar player has to get in and get out,” he’d preach to his musicians. “Play your solo and, BOOM, get out and let me sing.”

Hubert played one solo verse and Slim said take another. During that second verse, Hubert walked over to me and Cousins on bass to my left. As he came to the end of the second instrumental verse, Hubert put his head down and kept playing a fiery solo.

Sunnyland was furious. Over his vocal mic, he yelled, “Hubert, stop. The man thinks he’s a star.” Hubert finished his third verse and kept playing.

Now Sunnyland was looking at us with his hands on his hips. “The man played with Howling Wolf and he plays too loud for me,” he told the full-house audience. Hubert launched into a fourth verse with even more intensity as Sunnyland kept yelling at him.

Richard Cousins, eyes open wide, said, “What the hell is happening?” “Just keep playing,” I said.

Finally at the end of his fifth solo verse, Hubert looked up and signaled an ending to Cousins and me. Sunnyland glowered at Hubert before launching into one of his slow songs, “Depression Blues.” A confused Cousins left the stage shaking his head and Bombay Carter returned.

After the show, nothing was said between the two Chicago bluesmen. Just musical water under the bridge for them. Not an angry word.

Carter told Slim after the show he decided to continue on the tour. He never complained again about his lack of headliner status.

In Portland, we played a concert at Reed College. We performed a couple of nights at a Seattle nightclub, The Pipeline, before heading to Bellingham, Washington.

At a Western Washington University concert hall, we opened for John Lee Hooker in front of a capacity crowd. Hooker played with a focused intensity. Musicians who played with him knew he would often jump to the next chord change in the middle of a measure.

While listening to him, I asked Sunnyland what he thought of Hooker’s timing. “Well, the man’s got the timing of a road lizard,” Sunnyland said. “He’s got timing, but he’s the only one who knows what it is.”

Opening for Mike Bloomfield and Friends

We drove back to San Francisco to stay at the house we called home for five weeks. Our next show was scheduled in three days at the Keystone Berkeley opening for Mike Bloomfield and Friends.

I hadn’t seen him since November 1972 when he had told me I wasn’t ready to play with him and Sunnyland. However, he gave me a road map on how to become a professional drummer: go back to the roots of the genres I wanted to play and study the best drummers. “You are what you listen to,” he said.

I hadn’t known who Hubert was when we started touring. Now I was fascinated by him as a unique guitarist and person. One morning I went to Tower Records in San Francisco and bought the double album The Best of Howling Wolfon Chess Records.

I put the vinyl on the living room stereo while Hubert listened with me. I focused on Hubert’s playing and the collective sound the band showed on songs like Spoonful, 44 Blues, and Killing Floor.

“How did you guys make these arrangements and sound?” I asked.

“Guys created their own musical part and kept playing them,” he said. “They stayed there because there was nowhere else to go. Wolf sang and I played on top of that sound.”

It made sense. It was one of the coolest musical lessons I’d heard.

Later that night, we were back at the house and our host, the owner, asked Sunnyland, Hubert and me if we’d like to smoke opium in his living room. I thought for sure Sunnyland would say no because he rarely even took a hit off a joint.

“Yes partner,” Sunnyland said. “Me too,” Hubert added. If they’re in then, me too, I thought. I’d never smoked opium before.

We each took two deep hits off the pipe. Almost imediately I felt lighter than air, like I was floating around the room feeling no pain. I looked over at Hubert doubled over and laughing hard. Sunnyland, all six-foot-4 of him, was laying on his back on the sofa laughing and kicking his legs in the air like he was slow-motion bike-riding.

What a trip it was. I never smoked opium again. I realized it was too good.

Three days passed and the day of the show with Bloomfield and Friends arrived. It was March 1976 and I was nearly 25. We played a blistering first set at the cavernous Keystone Berkeley in front of a full house. We had Jimmy Kahr, who I played my first show with Sunnyland in 1972, as a guest guitarist.

I went into the backstage dressing room and saw Bloomfield with his back to me talking to a visitor. I tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around and looked at me. “Paul, how are you doing, man?” he asked. I was amazed he remembered me.

“Was that you playing with Sunnyland,” he asked? “Yes,” I said.

“Man, you sound good,” he said. “You really did what I told you to do to improve. I’m impressed. I’m going to ask Sunnyland if I can sit in with you on your second set.”

I’d never felt happier as a musician when he said that. He got on stage and played that set with us. It gave me the confidence I could be a professional drummer and the sky was the limit for my future.

I never saw him again. Five years later he was found dead of a heroin overdose in his car on a San Francisco street.

Following his death, Kurt Loder of Rolling Stone magazine wrote:

Michael Bloomfield, the rich Jewish kid from Chicago who demonstrated to a generation of electric guitarists that white men can really play the blues, was found dead in his car in San Francisco at eleven o’clock Sunday morning, February 15th. He was thirty-seven.

Bloomfield was slumped in the passenger seat of his beige 1971 Mercury, which was parked on a residential street in the Forest Hills section of the city; all four doors were locked. The official cause of death has not been determined, but the presence of an empty Valium bottle in the pocket of his coat, which was lying on the back seat, spurred speculation that Bloomfield — who had been known to use heroin in the past — had died of a drug overdose. However, two of Bloomfield’s closest associates doubted he had taken his own life.

“I can tell you, just from recent talks, that he wasn’t the kind of guy who was ready to check out on Valium,” said Denny Bruce, president of the Takoma Records label, for which Bloomfield recorded four albums over the past several years. According to Bruce, the guitarist had been drawing a good response both here and in Europe with his one-man show. He had two new albums due out March 1st — Cruisin’ for a Bruisin,’ on Takoma, and Living in the Fast Lane, on the independent Waterhouse label — and he was, Bruce said, “in very, very good spirits.”

He is still revered for his remarkable recordings such as The Paul Butterfield Band’s East-West, Super Session with Al Kooper, Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited, including Like a Rolling Stone, and The Electric Flag.

I will always remember Bloomfield for the musical lessons he taught me and for the extraordinary compassion he showed me as a young drummer. It meant everything to me.

###

Thank you to Pam Long, my editor, and Julian DeMark for expert photo scanning. Find many more musical memories at my Substack. 

Fritillaria affinis, the checker lily. Photo: (c) Alex Bairstow, some rights reserved (CC BY-NC)

This week on the EcoNews Report, our host Alicia Hamann from Friends of the Eel River is talking about the recently launched Eel River Native Plant Network. She’s joined by her colleague at Friends of the Eel River, Julie Weeder, and Adam Canter, Wiyot Tribe Natural Resources Director, and Audrey Jackson, Wiyot Tribe Nursery Manager.

When the Eel River dams are removed, we’ll need possibly hundreds of thousands of pounds of native plant seeds to revegetate and restore the reservoirs. But it turns out that there’s already a need for increased production of native plants within the Eel basin, just to support existing cultural and ecosystem restoration projects. The new Eel River Native Plant Network is connecting all kinds of folks to collaborate on increasing regional capacity to produce native plants, not just now, but for generations to come. 

Learn more about the network at this link.

Wiyot Tribe native plants in Soulatluk at this link.

Italian aliens who passed over designated lines or broke curfew rules in Eureka and Arcata during World War II risked getting arrested. In addition, if they happened to be living on the “wrong” side of a line, they were forced to move out of their homes. As a result, some lost their homes, jobs, freedom to visit friends and relatives and were required to remove their children from neighborhood schools. In addition, stores, movie houses and other establishments in the restricted zones were off limits.

Stephen C. Fox, professor of history at Humboldt State University, outlined the plight of resident aliens in a talk to the Humboldt County Historical Society at the group’s annual dinner meeting held February 21 at Eureka Inn. Fox, who came to the university in 1969, is writing a book on the relocation of Italian aliens in California during World War II. The book is scheduled to be published next year. It is based on some 40 interviews with surviving Italians and their families from throughout Northern California, from McKinleyville in Humboldt County to Monterey.

“It was a crazy time,” is the way that Fox characterized the hasty, desperate events that followed the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. Government officials conceived the notion that there were communities of “enemy” aliens, or Fifth Columnists, ready to strike the nation from within. Restricted areas were established around port communities, including those on Humboldt Bay, and aliens were told to leave the off-limits zones. Thus families found themselves separated from a section of their community by a boundary street or road.

In Arcata, none of the aliens could live west of G Street and in Eureka, Fourth Street and Broadway was the boundary line. Some families had to move just across the street while others had a longer distance to go. The Humboldt Bay area from Mad River on the north to Eel River on the south, was in the restricted area. The program was instituted statewide under pressure from the public, politicians, the news media and congressmen representing the West Coast. The architect of the plan was General John De Witt who was in charge of West Coast security.

Finally, reason began to prevail when a Congressional Committee conducted an investigation of the relocation system and heard on-site testimony to consider he wisdom of the plan and to check on the way it was being implemented by the Army. The committee was sympathetic to the plight of the Italians as well as some Germans who were subject to the program. Finally, in June, 1942, the Italian aliens were allowed to move back to their homes and on October 12, Columbus Day, The Attorney General declared they were no longer considered enemy aliens and all restrictions were removed. In December, the same treatment was accorded German aliens.

Some insights on what happened during the relocation period can be drawn from excerpts of two interviews conducted by Fox with Arcata residents Marino Sichi and Joe Nieri. Their comments follow.

MARINO SICHI

Marino Sichi was arrested by the FBI for curfew violation. He was transported first to the Immigration and Naturalization Service’s temporary detention center on Silver Avenue in San Francisco, then to Sharp Park, a larger barbed wire camp for a variety of security violators. This excerpt of the interview begins with his description of Sharp Park.

I remember the camp was divided in half. The Japanese were on the left side as you went in, and we were on the right. I don’t know, it seemed like there were thousands of people; it was quite a large gathering. There were Germans, English, French, Italians, every nationality you could think of, practically…

We didn’t get to talk to the Japanese. They had us separated by a big fence. It was a double fence, big enough to drive a truck between, and they patrolled it steadily, on foot and by truck. It must have been at least ten feet high with barbed wire coming up on the ends of both sides. Couldn’t get in or out.

We had barracks, mess halls, a camp bakery. Naturally there was a commandant’s office, and everything was enclosed by a chain link fence. There were guard towers at every corner and all around the perimeter. Those guards were armed; I found out the hard way. We were playing baseball one day, and I was out in the field. Somebody hit a ball and it got past me. I ran after it and everybody was shouting to hurry up and throw the ball in. All at once I heard a sound that made the blood kind of stop. Heard a “click-click,” and when I looked up I’m looking down the barrel of a 30 caliber machine gxin aimed right at my head. I wasn’t more than five or six feet from the fence and he was right above me, just motioning me off. He says, “You aren’t supposed to be near this fence. Back off.” I tried to explain that I was just after the baseball, but he said, “I don’t care what you were after. The next time we’re going to shoot…

I had mixed feelings about this country. I wanted to stay here. I wasn’t too happy about the situation because I figured I wasn’t doing anything wrong. So I was born on the wrong side of the ocean. It wasn’t my fault. I had applied for my citizenship papers and if things had been different I would have had ‘em. But it just didn’t work out that way. So, just because of a technicality I was thrown in the hoosgow.

I didn’t like that, and I wasn’t too happy about being drafted later on. By then I was back at work at the bakery on the “right” side of 4th Street. I was even classified as essential labor. They didn’t seem interested in me, then all at once they started after me. When I went down to San Francisco I said, “What are my options. I’m an enemy alien.” The Marines refused me. They had a desk with three people: Army, Marines and Navy. The second man, the Marine, took one look at my papers and said, “I don’t want no damn enemy alien.” I thought, “Thank God.” He threw my papers over to the Navy guy and he said the same thing. “Thank you,” I said, “You can’t dig a fox hole on the deck of a battleship.” And he threw me to the Army guy who said, “We ain’t particular. We’ll take you.” So I went in the Army. I went down a number of times before they finally took me in February of ‘44 because I was classified 4-F. I had problems with my stomach since about 1939…

One thing though, the Army handed me my citizenship papers with an M1 rifle. When I passed the physical, I asked what my options were. They said you can refuse induction and you’ll never be a citizen. We may ship you back to Italy. Or you can sign up and you can get your papers. They didn’t tell me I’d go to jail, just that they might ship me back to Italy. I was already a draft dodger from Italy. They called me up to serve in the Ethiopian campaign when I was seventeen, and I said, “Go to hell. I don’t owe you anything.” The Italian Consul in San Francisco called me up. They were calling all the Italian citizens who were born in 1920. They called it the “Class of 1920.”

If I tell you how I got my citizenship papers, though, you’ll laugh. If you could see it … Camp Fannan, Texas, middle of summer. They told us to put on our Class A uniforms; we were going to town and become American citizens. They loaded up onto these “six by” trucks and headed for the county courthouse. Deaf Smith County, Tyler, Texas. We went up to the judge’s chambers, and there was a character strictly out of Judge Roy Bean. Boiled white shirt, string tie, white suit, planters hat lying on the bench next to him, and a big mouth full of chewing tobacco which he spit into a spittoon. I remember him saying, “You all swear to uphold and defend these here — pttttt — United States of America — pttttt?” And he’d clang that old spittoon every time. You wouldn’t believe it unless you saw it. I got a little slip of paper that said I was now a citizen of the United States. That’s ail there was to it. There were Germans, Italians, you name ‘em — Austrians, French. We went down on the courthouse lawn and we rolled and we laughed; it was the most hilarious thing we could think of. This was supposed to be a solemn occasion, and here was this judge with his “pttttt.” He could hit that damn spittoon from six paces…

JOE NIERI

We came when I was three years old. The family settled here and dad worked in the lumber mills and camps. Along comes the war. World War II. My dad was not considered an “enemy” alien, because he was born in Brazil. He got his citizenship, I’d say, after the war; I can’t remember what year it was. It was after we came back from the army, though. But my mother and my brother and I had to relocate across this imaginary line — G Street in Arcata, the old Highway 101…

I was seventeen, and a senior in high school. It really hurt me ‘cause we had all gone to school with these kids from grammar school on up, and of course we knew everybody and they knew us. I was supposed to graduate with them, and was looking forward to it. Well, my brother and I lost that year of high school. I had to go back to the class of ‘43. But when the class of ‘42 had their reunions they always asked me: “Well, you were in our class, right?” I said, “Yes, but if you remember correctly they had this ‘enemy’ aliens thing, and we weren’t supposed to cross the line.” Course those kids now, they say, “Oh well, it was a stupid thing to do to a person.” There were three of them that I talked to; they kind of forgot what happened. But I said, “Do you remember when we had to go across that imaginary line?” “Oh God, yes, we forgot about it.” I said, “Well, I didn’t!” So I have to go to reunions with the kids that were behind me. It comes up every time and it brings back old memories. It bothers me, it really does. You kind of forgive, but you can’t forget. It’s embedded too deep.

I was on the first string basketball team, and that’s another thing that hurt me. I was going to get my second stripe and then a sweater. I could have walked around school with two stripes on my sleeve! I couldn’t participate in sports in ‘43 either, because technically that would have been my fifth year in high school, and they only accepted four years of athletic eligibility. That’s something that really hurt. I couldn’t even get into the yearbook, my pictures or anything like that. I didn’t try to argue with them, but I explained, “It was five blocks from this imaginary line. What harm is it going to do? Just let me go to school for another year, until the end of June.” And they said, “No. We’ve got orders to relocate you, and that’s it. You have to go…”

We couldn’t travel across the imaginary line. If we had to go to the dentist or a doctor — they were on the west side of the line — we could cross but we had to get a police escort. To go from our house to the doctor or dentist they had to call a police officer to come and pick us up after we were through. Just like we were in jail. I thought it was really foolish, or stupid, or whatever you want to call it. The dentist and doctor were on the plaza. They thought it was kind of dumb, too, but they had to go by the regulations. They were all sympathetic.

Besides not being able to cross this line, we had to be on our property by 7 o’clock at night. No later. And if we were out, well there were two or three spies around — neighborhood people — who would report us to the police. There was one guy that we know who turned us in; the police chief told us.

I couldn’t get a job; all the jobs were on the west side of the highway. All we could do was sit around the house. We used to love to go clam digging, but that was too far for us to travel. And on Sundays, all the grocery stores and other stores were closed. Before the war the family used to go on picnics out at Camp Bauer or Blue Lake. And we couldn’t even do that; we had to sit at home. The Japanese were in concentration camps; I really felt sorry for them. But we were just like in a concentration camp, too, but for a short time…

They made us go in the Army. We had to register for the draft, even being “enemy” aliens, which I could not comprehend. Course at that time I didn’t understand too much of what was going on. Whatever they told us, we did. So we registered, and I said, “Well, I’m not going into the draft because we’re ‘enemy’ aliens. We’re not supposed to be in the army or the armed forces.” We registered anyway, and got a notice to report to San Francisco. But we didn’t go. We were that bitter. So they sent a sergeant, or somebody, and the local police. They came over to our house and gave us an ultimatum: “You will go down for a physical and if you pass, you’re going to go in the Army or you’re going to prison.” So we didn’t have too much of a choice. We talked it over and thought about it, and decided we didn’t want to dirty the family’s reputation. So we said, “Don’t ruin the Nieri name. We’ll go.” So we did. We went in the Army on May the 3rd of ‘44.

At first we were in the artillery down at Camp Roberts. About two months later they took all the aliens — mostly Mexicans — over to the county seat at San Luis Obispo. They swore us in and gave us our citizenship papers. They couldn’t have an “enemy” alien in the Army, so they had to — we had to be citizens. Later we found out that because they needed more infantry for the Normandy invasion, we would have to convert to the infantry. But of all the places, we were sent to Italy! And we got into the fighting there, just above Rome. Yeah, It wasn’t very pleasant, but it was the last two weeks of the war…

I saw all the aunts, uncles, cousins. In fact, I even saw the house and the room I was born in. The people were really glad to see us. When the Germans made a final push up there by Milan I got hit in the back with mortar shrapnel. And of all the places to be sent, I was sent back to Lucca, my home village, to the field hospital. My brother was hit, too. We were in the same foxhole. They sent us to this field hospital in Lucca, and we were talking to this civilian who knew my uncle and he told him and the family came over and visited us. That’s how we got to know where they were.

Press release from the Sequoia Humane Society:

Sequoia Humane Society remains focused and steadfast on our mission to provide humane care, responsible placement, and pathways to safe and loving homes for homeless animals within our community.

As a small independent nonprofit shelter originally established more than 50 years ago in a former California Highway Patrol building, our facility was designed to humanely house approximately 25 to 30 dogs under 30 pounds, six kennels for dogs over 30 pounds, and communal cattery space for adult cats and 8 litters of kittens in our nursery. These capacity limitations have a direct impact on how we responsibly manage humane care standards, medical oversight, staffing resources, and animal welfare.

Sequoia Humane Society is an independent nonprofit organization, governed with oversight from a volunteer board of directors, and does not operate under a mandatory county animal control contract requiring unlimited intake capacity. Our priority has always been to serve local animals in need through adoption, foster placement, and humane sheltering.

When space allows, we collaborate with trusted shelter and rescue partners throughout California and parts of the Pacific Northwest to help relieve overcrowding and create additional pathways to adoption for animals at risk. All transfer partners must align with Sequoia Humane Society’s mission, humane care standards, operational capabilities, and compliance practices prior to any approved transfer relationship.

Sequoia Humane Society does not currently maintain and has not maintained an active transfer partnership or ongoing transfer relationship with Miranda’s Rescue.

We maintain detailed records for all animals accepted into our care, including local surrenders, foster placements, adoptions, and approved shelter transfers. Transfer agreements include transfer of ownership, medical records, behavioral information, and microchip documentation.

The majority of animals placed through Sequoia Humane Society are adopted directly onsite at our shelter facility, with some approved placements occurring through community mobile adoption events. Every adoption is documented within our shelter management system, a platform commonly used throughout the animal welfare community, and includes adoption agreements, vaccination records, medical history, and microchip documentation. All animals adopted through Sequoia Humane Society are spayed or neutered, vaccinated, microchipped, and provided rabies vaccinations in accordance with California law prior to adoption unless medically exempt under veterinary guidance.

Our 2025 and 2026 records reflect documented adoption outcomes across both dogs and cats, demonstrating our continued commitment to responsible placement and humane care. One of our most successful programs is Foster to Adopt, which allows families and animals time to adjust prior to final adoption. If an executed adoption agreement is not the right fit, animals may safely return to our care and be placed again into appropriate homes. Placement records are maintained long term because animals may return to our shelter at any point during their lifetime.

While we value transparency and regularly celebrate adoption and foster success stories publicly when permitted, we also have a responsibility to protect the privacy and trust of adopters, foster families, and surrendered animal owners. Personal identifying information and adopter details remain confidential and are not publicly disclosed. However, outcomes and placement records are maintained internally and may be reviewed through appropriate legal, regulatory, or organizational processes when required.

Like many communities throughout California, Humboldt County continues to experience challenges related to homeless animals, particularly larger breed dogs that often require additional placement resources and behavioral support. Because our facility was not designed to house large numbers of large breed dogs, our intake capacity for those animals remains limited. When space is available, we continue collaborating with local municipalities, shelters, rescues, and transfer partners to help where responsibly possible.

As a nonprofit organization, Sequoia Humane Society relies heavily on community donations and local adoption support to sustain humane animal care. The actual cost of caring for animals often exceeds adoption fees or any medical cost-sharing assistance associated with vaccinations, spay and neuter services, behavioral support, food, housing, staffing, and ongoing care. Community support has a direct impact on our ability to provide the care animals need.

Any discussions regarding cost assistance are intended only to help offset a portion of required medical and humane animal care expenses associated with California compliance standards and responsible sheltering practices. These discussions support humane care and medical treatment and are never intended to generate profit.

Currently, Sequoia Humane Society has not charged transfer fees to or from approved transfer partners.

Serving homeless and at-risk animals throughout Humboldt County remains our priority, and we remain committed to working alongside community partners to help address local animal welfare needs while operating within humane care and facility capacity standards.

Adoption outcomes have significantly increased compared to the previous year thanks to the incredible support of the Humboldt County community, including fosters, volunteers, adopters, and donors who continue opening their homes and hearts to animals in need.

We understand the concern many community members have regarding ongoing animal welfare investigations within California. While Sequoia Humane Society is not involved in those investigations and cannot comment on allegations, we support transparency, accountability, and humane standards of care within the animal welfare community.

We also recognize that the long-term solution for Humboldt County’s growing animal welfare needs requires expanded infrastructure, regional collaboration, and sustainable community investment. Sequoia Humane Society has been actively working over the last several years toward future facility expansion planning that would allow us to humanely increase intake capacity, particularly for larger breed dogs and animals requiring specialized placement support.

With building design, planning, and permitting efforts already underway, Sequoia Humane Society is positioned to break ground on a future expanded facility once funding goals are achieved. The future facility is designed to better serve the evolving needs of our community and the animals who depend on us.

Future expansion plans include expanded medical and wellness services, as well as a humane education and training center designed to strengthen animal welfare engagement within our community and improve access to humane care resources throughout our region, keeping animals safe within our community.

We would also like to recognize and sincerely thank the veterinary professionals, veterinary partners, shelter partners, rescue organizations, municipalities, fosters, volunteers, and animal welfare advocates who continue supporting humane care efforts throughout our region and the state. Their collaboration, trust, medical support, shared resources, and commitment to animal welfare help create lifesaving opportunities for animals both locally and throughout the broader animal welfare community.

Sequoia Humane Society remains grateful for the trusted partnerships and collaborative relationships that support our shared mission of protecting animals and improving animal welfare outcomes for the communities we collectively serve.

We invite donors, community partners, businesses, foundations, and supporters to help us Build a Humane Future for Generations through expanded sheltering capacity, humane education, medical and wellness services, and lifesaving programs for local animals in our community.

To donate or learn more about supporting Sequoia Humane Society’s future growth and community impact, please contact Executive Director Angela Duncan at (707) 442-1782 or emailExecutive@sequoiahumane.org.

For additional information regarding Sequoia Humane Society’s programs, operations, adoptions, foster opportunities, or community partnerships, please contact:

Angela Duncan
Executive Director
Sequoia Humane Society
Eureka, California
(707) 442-1782

To adopt an animal, donate, volunteer, foster, or learn more about our mission to help homeless animals at risk, please visit: www.sequoiahumane.org

###

Sequoia Humane Society’s mission is to be a community leader in promoting the humane treatment of all animals and ending pet overpopulation by providing a high standard of care through programs such as pet adoption, spay and neuter services, foster care, and community education.

Sequoia Humane Society is a charitable nonprofit organization operating under IRS Section 501(c)(3). Our ability to provide humane care, medical treatment, sheltering, foster support, and adoption services depends greatly on the support, trust, volunteerism, and generosity of our community.

Press release from the Humboldt Trails Council:

The 2026 Humboldt Trails Summit Saturday, May 30th, is being expanded this year to not only include a kick-off event at the Sequoia Conference Center (901 Myrtle Avenue, Eureka), but also an afternoon of guided field trips, some providing a sneak peek of new trails on the horizon. The event begins at the conference center at 10:00 a.m. with a trail partners fair, where attendees can connect with trail supporting organizations. At 11:00 a.m. brief presentations from Hank Seemann, Deputy Director, Environmental Services, County of Humboldt, and Elaine Hogan, Executive Director, Great Redwood Trail Agency will highlight the exciting progress that is being made in developing our trails including those under construction, in the planning phase, and the new trails you can visit today. The trail fair tabling will continue until 1:00 p.m.

Do not miss this opportunity to learn about, celebrate, and be inspired by the progress that makes shared paths and trails possible. Refreshments provided, and a bike valet to safely leave your bikes thanks to the Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities. More details about the event, including field trip details and sign-ups are available at https://humtrails.org/ and the Humboldt Trails Council Facebook Page.

Starting at 1:00 pm, the public is invited to attend guided trail field trips offered at a variety of locations. Sign up for the hikes at https://humtrails.org/ where you will find more details on time, place to meet, etc. The hikes include:

• McKay Community Forest

• Arcata Annie and Mary Trail between Arcata and Pump Station #1 on the Mad River

• Cooper Gulch Trail in Eureka

• Eureka to College of the Redwoods Humboldt Bay Extension

• McKinleyville Community Forest

• Little River Trail, Hammond Trail

• Loleta portion of the Great Redwood Trail

• Freshwater Farms Reserve Nature Trail

The Humboldt Trails Summit is sponsored by the Humboldt Trails Council, with support from the Humboldt Bay Trail Fund, in collaboration with the County of Humboldt, the Great Redwood Trail Agency and the many organizations, jurisdictions and agencies working on behalf of expanding Humboldt County’s non-motorized trail access.