Filmmaker's trial rolls to conviction

No one complained when a Sonora artist filmed a festival of American Indian dances in Yosemite National Park in June 2002.

Three years later, a park service worker spotted a video of the "Yosemite Big Time" event in a gift shop in the Indian Museum, not far from the spectacular waterfalls that draw 3.5 million tourists to the valley each year, and raised a red flag.

Next came an investigation by a park ranger, followed by three misdemeanor charges and two years of litigation.

Late last month, Lorenzo Baca was convicted of trespassing on a cultural resource and doing business in the park without a permit. His legal saga may wrap up Tuesday, when the park's sole judge, U.S. Magistrate William Wunderlich, is scheduled to hand down Baca's punishment.

Baca turned down a plea agreement but said he has no regrets, because he wanted to confront his accusers in court.

He said he had a relationship with the museum that sold the silver jewelry he makes and agreed to stock some videos to see if they would sell. The dancers gave him permission to film, he said, accepting four turkey wings with feathers they could use in their costumes as a gesture of good faith.

"To me, that was a gentleman's agreement," said Baca, 60, who was acquitted of filming in the park without a permit.

The 30-minute film depicts an annual American Indian festival that takes place near a ceremonial roundhouse in the Indian Village during Father's Day weekend.

According to a criminal complaint filed by the National Park Service's law enforcement office, the film includes interviews with park employees and shows Baca stepping over a sign that says the public may not enter the roundhouse.

Baca, a native of Arizona and member of the Isleta Pueblo/Mescalero Apache tribe, is credited as the producer, director, narrator and writer of the film that was available in DVD or video format for $30.

The leader of a Mewuk group that danced that day told the authorities that they agreed to participate in a film that was for home or educational use, but did not anticipate any commercial sales.

Baca, who screened the film at a festival in Palm Springs in 2004, said he distributed about 20 copies, giving away half of them. He said he is trying to preserve American Indian traditions but has been hounded by critics who think he is making money off their culture.

"There's no profit in this kind of work," said Baca, who has a day job as a American Indian spiritual leader in the chaplain's division of the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.

Baca faces up to six months in jail and a fine of up to $5,000 for each of the two counts, the maximum punishment for a misdemeanor allowed under federal law. Only the most hardened criminals receive maximum sentences and Baca's attorney can argue for a fine or community service.

As the dispute worked its way through the park's legal system, Baca gained support from an unexpected source: the descendants of the Mono Paiutes, who think they have been written out of the history books.

Dean Sam of Sacramento, a retired state worker who lobbies the park service for greater recognition of the Paiute culture, said Paiutes were pushed out of the valley when white men discovered Yosemite in 1850, letting Mewuks, who were scouts for the white men, move in.

Sam's ears perked up when he heard that Baca was being prosecuted for trespassing in the roundhouse, because the roundhouse is a replica of something Mewuks, not Paiutes, may have used.

Using the Paiute argument

Sam and others rallied around Baca and said he was being railroaded by the park and its Mewuk allies.

"It gave us a chance to tell the real story of Yosemite," Sam said.

Although Baca made the film to tell the stories behind Mewuk dances, he drew new inspiration from his Paiute supporters, arguing that he could not have trampled on a cultural resource because the roundhouse was built in 1973 and depicts something Yosemite's indigenous people would not have used.

Baca also wondered why the museum agreed to sell his film, even though he did not have a business permit. And he said he did not need a permit to film a public festival, because he did not use a professional crew or cast.

His film is a far cry from feature films that have used Yosemite as a backdrop, including "The Caine Mutiny," "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom," "The Last of the Mohicans" and "Maverick."

A bench trial spread over three days, beginning in August and ending in November. In the end, the judge dinged Baca on two of three points, taking a more literal approach than Baca when it comes to trespassing in the roundhouse and selling the film without a permit.

Adrienne Freeman, a spokeswoman for the park service, said Baca's case is an anomaly, as filming is allowed as long as photographers don't damage the park or invade the privacy of visitors.

Professional crews need permits and liability insurance, journalists are free to cover news stories, and the park service never knows about lots of camera people in the park each day.

Meanwhile, the park's tiny courthouse, a satellite of the U.S. District Court in Fresno, usually handles nuisance cases, such as bicycling while intoxicated or shoplifting.

"None of us can remember a time when something like this has happened," Freeman said.

Although the incident involving Baca is unique in Yosemite's history, Freeman suggested that it may be part of a pattern, because Baca received a similar citation, yet was not prosecuted, after he filmed a traditional dance at Point Reyes National Seashore.

Baca said the dancers he filmed by the sea were happy to work with him.

Another group, the Tuolumne Band of Me-Wuk Indians, took Baca to court in 2003.

The tribe didn't have a problem with Baca when he filmed dances at the Sonora Museum back in the 1980s, with the permission of Brown Tadd, an elder who wrote a book about medicinal plants, founded a traditional dance group and gave talks at schools.

All agreed that the filming was done by mutual agreement: Tadd wanted Baca to help him preserve a dying culture; Baca used Tadd's oral history as part of his thesis at UCLA, where he earned a master's degree in American Indian Studies.

A decade later, after Tadd died, Baca repackaged the material, selling videos and compact discs at swap meets and through a Web site. Baca said advancements in technology made it possible for him to make copies of the films and music, which he sold so he could educate the public about American Indian culture.

Members of the tribe sued, claiming Baca videotaped minors without their parents' permission. Baca settled the case in 2005, when he agreed to destroy the remaining videos and CDs, according to records on file with the U.S. District Court in Fresno.

Baca said he was trying to create an eight-part educational series featuring the songs and dances of different tribes.

Sales, he said, never came close to paying for his productions.

As Baca put it, "At the rate we're going, it would be 200 years before we recoup our costs."

Bee staff writer Susan Herendeen can be reached at sherendeen@modbee.com or 578-2338.

This story was originally published December 16, 2007 at 3:58 AM with the headline "Filmmaker's trial rolls to conviction."