"I have the same problems that President Bush does," Holton said. "I do the same things: try to provide economic development, employment, social programs for children and the elderly."

He's also trying to right old wrongs.

Last month, Holton went to Washington to try to persuade a U.S. senator and congressmen to make the federal government honor a 1778 treaty. It promised the Delawares' Chief White Eyes that the tribe would be made the 14th state and have a seat in Congress in return for helping the American colonists in the Revolutionary War.

"Of course, I told them, we'll talk about the state later," Holton said. "I want my seat in Congress."

He said he'd settle for a nonvoting seat on Capitol Hill, like Puerto Rico and Guam have.

"They were hoping no one would ever come back and try to make the claim," Holton said. "Here I am."

In his first year as chief, Holton also has worked on reviving the tribe's culture, language, songs and dances.

He's attempting to move the tribe's Gold River Casino, which pulls in about $20 million a year, to a more prosperous location in the state.

Expansion and exposure are key for the Delawares, who have no land of their own. The Delawares were forced westward through 16 states on what they call "The Trail of Broken Treaties."

Film producers have been so taken by Holton's stories that they're considering TV and movie projects about the tribe.

"We were part of the nation-building," he said, "and that's the message I really am trying to get out there."

Although Holton keeps a tomahawk by his hearth, he said his weapon is his computer.

"President Holton, he's a go-getter," said Tamara Francis, cultural preservation specialist for the Delaware Nation. "He's been very hands-on with trying to help our tribe be acknowledged as it should be. Many people on the East Coast, they believe that our tribe is extinct."

On a trip to Maryland, Holton met with someone who wants to donate an island in Chesapeake Bay to the tribe, giving it an Eastern base.

The Delawares, once known as the Lenape, are considered the original tribe in the Northeast. When Holton meets with tribes such as the Iroquois and Powhatans, they don't call him "Chief." They call him "Grandfather."

"It's kind of weird, but it's a sign of respect," he said.

Lisa Holton's title is just as impressive: "first lady of the Delaware Nation."

"I'm not used to it," she said. "I'm just a little redneck from Smyrna."

Holton is one-eighth Delaware through his mother Helen's side of the family. He was born in Chickasha, Okla., where he now has an apartment, and moved to Marietta as a toddler so his father, Woody, could work at Lockheed-Martin.

Holton learned about his heritage at his mother's knee, including stories about Chief Black Beaver, a famous scout from the Civil War era who is his great-great-grandfather. His grandfather was a code talker in World War II.

"I love to camp and hunt and explore, and I think that's where a lot of it came from, just hearing stories about how neat it was," said Holton, who wears his hair in a traditional braid.

He said he often thought of becoming a tribal leader. "I never thought I'd actually do it, though," he said.

Holton was motivated by a letter that said candidates had to live within 100 miles of the tribe's Oklahoma headquarters.

"I just went basically to protest that and, in order to make my point, I threw my hat in the ring," he said.

The previous president had died in office, and Holton's only opponent was a former Indian princess — an elected office — who had lived in the area her entire life. Holton won 38-37.

"People felt like maybe if I'm strong enough to come out and fight for my own rights and privileges, maybe I'll fight for theirs as well," he said. "And I do."

Holton attended Sprayberry and graduated from North Cobb, coincidentally the "home of the Warriors." His only leadership experience had been with the Jaycees and student council.

He encountered some resistance because he was considered an outsider by some of the old tribal leadership.

"I'm pretty sure they expected him to stumble, fall and completely drop out after a couple of weeks," Francis said. Instead, Holton dropped everything to move to Oklahoma. He missed seeing daughter Britnie, 18, go to her prom.

"Everybody says I've sacrificed," Lisa Holton said. "I think he has."

Although Holton draws a salary, it's a pay cut from his job as vice president of H&L Aircraft Service, a family business in Kennesaw.

Holton has 18 months left on the late chief's term, then plans to run for a full four-year term. He's slowly learning the Lenape language and sprinkles words such as "wanishi" (thanks) in his e-mails. As soon as enough members know the old songs and dances, Holton has promised them a pow-wow.

He said colleagues at the airport keep tabs on him through his father. "Every day, they'll ask, 'What's happening out in Indian country with Kerry?' "

Yet Holton still considers Marietta home, where dreamcatchers decorate the walls of his house.

"They catch," he said, "my dreams all the time."

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The Atlanta Journal-Constitution