David Senclair, a Tigua Indian, recalls growing up in poverty on the Ysleta del Sur Pueblo, depending on handouts from local charities. "At school time, we would all be wearing the same pair of shoes," he says. "We looked silly, but we were happy to have shoes at all."

His voice cracks with emotion, though, when he explains how the tribe was able to start giving back to the community Â- wheelchairs for disabled children, weather radios for area schools, and even $100,000 to victims of the World Trade Center attack.

The tribe's newfound wealth came from its burgeoning casino, which brought $60 million a year in revenues and a ripple effect that not only helped the Tiguas, but enriched the El Paso economy.

Their good fortune was part of the controversial nationwide Indian gaming bonanza of the past decade Â- an extremely successful way of drawing business to isolated reservations. The casino boom drove a reversal of a century of misfortune for Native Americans through gambling profits.

But the good times were short for the Tiguas whose tale highlights the irony of Native Americans lifting themselves out of one social ill Â-poverty Â- through what's widely considered another social ill Â- gambling.

In February, the state of Texas closed down the Tiguas' Speaking Rock casino. The closure, to be appealed to the US Supreme Court, came as the result of a long legal battle by Texas Attorney General John Cornyn. He contends that the tribe is bound by state law when it comes to gambling Â- and the state doesn't allow casinos. Most of the nation's 200 tribes operating casinos do so under protection of sovereignty recognized by the federal government. But the Tiguas signed an unusual agreement in 1987 that put them under state law regarding gambling if the state would not oppose federal recognition of their tribe.

The closure of the casino is a bitter test for the Tiguas. Before it opened, the reservation had the area's highest crime and poverty rates. Half the 1,269 tribal members had no jobs. The high-school dropout rate was 70 percent. And many homes still lacked running water or electricity.

"You name it, we had it: drugs, alcohol, everything that poverty brings into society," says Johnny Lopez, a tribal councilmember.

But casino profits changed everything.

Today, the tribal unemployment rate is 1 percent; 98 percent of Tigua students graduate from high school, and a growing number go on to college with tribal funding. Police reports show the reservation is now the safest area in El Paso. Tribe members have a casino-sponsored health center, an elder center, a wellness-and-fitness center, a library stocked with computers, and drug and alcohol treatment programs. Stucco housing developments dot the reservation. The tribe's diversification efforts include a Mobil Oil and Gas distribution contract for 25 gas stations and convenience stores (only six opened before the legal battle arose).

And the Tigua Indians weren't the only beneficiaries: A state study in December found that 2,200 jobs would be lost in the El Paso area when the casino closed.

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