Lake of Betrayal panelists, from left, Caleb Abrams, associate producer and Seneca; Director Paul Lamont; Tyler Heron, son of the late Seneca Chief George Heron; and producer Scott Sackett, answer questions after the premier recently of a documentary at Struthers Library Theatre in Warren, Pa. The documentary explores Kinzua Dam from the Seneca Nation’s viewpoint. Photo by Brian Ferry

WARREN, Pa., — Kinzua was originally a Seneca word for a good place to fish. Since the 1960s, the word has taken on a much different meaning to the Seneca Nation.

Last week, Lake of Betrayal, a production of Toward Castle Films and Skipping Stone Pictures, was premiered at the Struthers Library Theatre in Warren, Pa., in front of a packed house. The building of Kinzua Dam and the Allegheny Reservoir in violation of a treaty centuries old covered thousands of acres of Seneca ancestral land and seven Seneca and nine other communities including Kinzua and Corydon — with water.

Producer Scott Sackett, Director Paul Lamont, Associate Producer Caleb Abrams, and Tyler Heron, son of the late Seneca Chief George Heron, who had a major role in the movie, spoke and answered questions after the film. Asked why they made the film, Lamont responded that there are no major lawsuits nor other legal challenges. Rather, he and Sackett wanted “to bring this story to a wider audience.”

Many people talk about how they enjoy the reservoir, he said. “They go out on those waters and have no idea what lies under the water.”

The movie is “bringing those voices up from under the water,” he said. “Although this is a tragic Seneca story, it crosses cultural borders.”

He thanked the Warren County Historical Society for sponsoring the event and the Struthers Library Theatre for hosting it. “This is a magnificent venue,” he said. “We all were astounded at the turnout tonight.”

“We wanted to have a screening in Warren,” Lamont said. “It’s where the dam is located and there were so many communities that were wiped away.”

“I look at that film,” Heron said. “I lived it. I was 17 years old. I watched my home burn.”

In 1794, the Grand Council of the Six Nations — including the Seneca — and President George Washington of the United States of America signed the Treaty of Canandaigua.

The Senecas were ensured the “free use and enjoyment” of the lands described in the treaty — the Allegany Territory in southern New York and the Cornplanter Tract in Warren County. “Looking back, we really felt like we were free. We were exactly where we were supposed to be.”

In the 1930s, public works were undertaken throughout the country to provide work during the Great Depression and bring power to millions. At the same time, flooding in Pittsburgh caused millions of dollars in damage. Flooding in Washington D.C. brought the issue home to the federal government, which had previously said flood control was a state issue. “Congress could literally look out the window” and see the impact.”

With the Flood Control Act of 1936, Congress made flood control a federal program and recognized the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers as the lead federal agency in that effort.

The government got to work. From Washington to Missouri, dam projects in the name of power generation and flood control had the additional effects of inundating dozens of reservations. “Almost every major dam project had displacement.”

Displacement had become almost official policy of the United States. From the 1940s through the 1960s, the U.S. government undertook a policy of “termination.”

“They wanted us to disappear, go away… just melt in.”

The Seneca continued to have faith in their treaty. “The Seneca Nation had a lot more faith than the society they were dealing with.”

The flooding in Pittsburgh had created powerful alliances that now stood against the Seneca. “With Pittsburgh’s industry at stake, forces to push Kinzua Dam forward had lined up.”

“With the threat of Kinzua looming on the horizon…” the Seneca hired a famous and respected engineer to consider alternatives.

Arthur Morgan, who had advised presidents, “vigorously opposed” the plan and called it “a colossal blunder.” His suggestion was to use a natural depression farther north as a reservoir, with drainage available into Lake Erie when needed.

Morgan’s suggestions were repeatedly denied by the Corps of Engineers. The Seneca were credited for doing things the right way.

“They’re not just sitting there saying, ‘We’re Indians, don’t build dams.’ They’re saying, ‘This doesn’t seem to make much sense.'”

The Seneca took their objections, and their treaty, to federal court. On Nov. 25, 1958, the court ruled the building of Kinzua legal and the supreme court refused to review the decision. The House Subcommittee on Indian Affairs denied a request for time for further study.

In October 1960, the digging began.

The Seneca continued. They focused on a young presidential candidate. “In (John F.) Kennedy, the Seneca saw their last, best hope.”

That hope, too, was dashed. After he was elected, Kennedy said he would not address the matter because it had already been handled by the courts.

Images in the movie showed homes and a church burning. A man who spoke to the panel afterwards said, “That was the Methodist church right in the center of town. My house was right across from it.”

Then there were images of cemeteries and graves, and workers carrying boxes out of graveyards. Heron said some of his friends refused to let the Corps of Engineers burn their houses and did it themselves.

“My father and the leadership of the day got the best deal they could from Congress,” Tyler Heron said.

George Heron described the $15 million the United States gave the Seneca after the displacement as “conscience money.”

“They said we should be so grateful, they’re getting all new houses. That’s not how I felt,” he said. “We consider the land our mother. How do you separate children from their mother?

“We couldn’t believe it. We’ve lived under the Treaty of Canandaigua since 1794.”

The Seneca still hold the treaty sacred, Heron said. They gather to celebrate it on Nov. 11 each year in Canandaigua.

While he can visit the places where he grew up and went to school, Heron’s wife’s home, has been under water for half a century.

Warren County residents of Kinzua and Corydon, without the slim protection afforded by centuries-old treaties, had their properties seized under eminent domain. They were compensated, too, but not enough.

At the 1966 dedication of the dam, Gov. William Scranton said the dam would one day be remembered as a sign that “the needs of human welfare come first.”

Including payments to those who lost their homes and the relocation payments made to the Seneca, Kinzua Dam cost $108 million. A few years later, it was estimated that the dam prevented $250 million in flood damage.

Flood control and hydro-electric power generation came at a cost to the Seneca.

The Seneca have prospered in spite of, or possibly as a result of their responses to, the construction of Kinzua Dam and the accompanying “betrayal, hurt, anger, defeat.”

“The lake serves as a symbol to us and as a catalyst to our future,” Heron said. “In the 60s, you could count the college educated on one hand. Now we have doctors, lawyers, and Indian chiefs.”

“We don’t fight our battles with bows and arrows,” he said. “We fight our battles with legal briefs and public relations.”

The nation’s casinos are providing the economic stimulus and he thanked the patrons in the audience.

“Our population is expanding and that’s a good thing. We have a living language, a living culture,” Heron said. “I think our ancestors would smile and be proud.”