"We absolutely did just that," said Maxine Natchees, chairwoman of the Ute Tribe. "We had to do something, and I really saw the promise in this and the potential in this plan for our survival."

In fact, all five of the state's Indian tribes — backed by the gusto and respect of Utah Gov. Jon Huntsman Jr. — are making more money, taking risks and pushing the envelope in an effort to save their rich cultures and the future of their young people. Consider the following:

• The Shoshones had no land and no cash a few years ago — today tribal leaders are garnering property for at least $340 million in building projects. They also run a company that translates classified documents for the U.S. Department of Justice and the FBI.

Fortifying their finances will save the culture, said Mike Devine, chief operating officer of the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Economic Development Corp. The 464-member tribe set goals to preserve their language, songs, dances and crafts before launching its business enterprises.

"If we do economic development," Devine said, "it's got to enhance the culture."

• On the Navajo Reservation, high oil prices have helped maintain an income of more than $2.7 million in oil revenues annually for roughly 8,000 Navajos in San Juan County. The money goes to fund college scholarships, housing, roads and utility and water lines. Today those reserves are funding construction of a medical clinic in Monument Valley.

• Lacking land and natural resources, the perpetually impoverished Paiute Tribe started a computer services company two years ago. Suh'dutsing, which means cedar tree, employs 28 people to do data processing, network installation and software development for the federal government. The Cedar City company has a standing policy to pay no less than $10 per hour, though many salaries are higher.

"It's not a jobs program," said Carey Wold, senior vice president for business development. "We're in this to make money."

• The Goshute Band in Ibapah is one of the poorest tribes in the state. The annual powwow has been canceled in some years because of cost. The reservation on the state's barren westernmost border has few resources, but new tribal chairman Rupert Steele is a college-educated administrator with a fresh enthusiasm for problem solving.

In some cases, these aggressive efforts have met formidable resistance inside and outside of the tribe.

The Skull Valley Band of Goshutes has tangled with the state and federal government for nearly a decade over a proposal to store nuclear waste on its reservation in western Utah.