No good deal goes unpunished

I had this feeling in my gut when I hung up the phone that deals like the one I was being offered ought not to be taken seriously. I’m not sure how such an awareness worked its way into the winding tracts of my intestines in the first place; if it had stayed in my head where it belonged I would have slammed the receiver down on the salesman’s ear, a reckoning to be recorded on the Richter scale, felt all the way down the California coast, which is where the company said it was supposedly located.

The special promotion arrived through our school district’s e-mail system, an educator’s advantage to save big bucks on the purchase of wireless laptop computers. You’d think I’d reached the age where I knew a company that employed the phrase “smokinhot” in their promotional web address should not be taken seriously. Smoke in advertising is always a diversion. And really, the only true educator’s advantage starts in June, one that most of the business world is still upset about.

The man I talked with on the phone at a toll-free number should have set off any number of alarms. For one thing, the computer company, EPC Parts, builders and distributors of BuiltSmart computers, had a nice-looking web site, but the site was a dead end: Buyers couldn’t order a computer off the site; they had to call an 800 number. Then the salesman who convinced me to buy the computer was unavailable for a few follow-up questions the day after I ordered it, and another salesman apologized, saying my sales rep had quit his job yesterday. No wonder he sounded so cheerful.

Still, I persevered. I was determined to get a good deal and nothing – not even rational thought – was going to talk me out of it. I asked my technical questions and settled for vague, evasive answers because, I reasoned, the new guy in the sales seat lacked the experience of the man I talked to the day before. I authorized $895 to be withdrawn from my checking account, contacted the bank to make sure no more was withdrawn, then turned my hourglass over, prepared to endure the excruciating 30- day waiting period before my laptop would be prepped and shipped.

I waited.

Keeping a few notes, especially with names and numbers, is a good practice for conducting business over the phone. Exactly 29 days after I placed my order I called customer service and reached James at extension 691 where I politely inquired about the status of my delivery. When my order couldn’t be located, I asked to speak with Joe at ext. 295.

“Joe? I don’t think anyone named Joe works here.”

I started hyperventilating before I remembered that Joe had quit over a month ago. I scoured my notes, apologized for my mistake, and asked to speak with Rick at ext. 823. Unfortunately, it was Rick’s day off, but James transferred me to Miguel, confident that Miguel could answer my questions. He must have heard the panic in my voice when he asked for my order number. After shuffling a few papers (I could actually hear paper rustling over the phone!), he said, “Yeah, I see your order right here.”

He named the model, confirmed my confirmation numbers, and assured me the paperwork was fine. But one problem: It would be another week before my computer could be shipped. Because of the successful-educator promotion, I was told, orders had been backed up. I would still be getting the quality machine I had ordered and since I would have to wait, EPC would add a 20-megabyte memory upgrade to my computer. Miguel said, “A smokin’ good deal.”

When I called a week later, Rick was back at ext. 823. I asked about the promotion backlog, how soon before my computer would be shipped. He said, presumably without blinking, that the boat bringing motherboards from China still hadn’t arrived, but when the ship docked and unloaded, my order would be assembled and shipped, ASAP. Priority mail. Overnight delivery. Free of charge.

“A slow boat from China?” I gasped. “Miguel never mentioned any boat when I called last week.” I pictured a bamboo junk with ragged sheets for sails, packed precariously with flimsy Chinese food cartons containing computer parts. Clearly, my worries had been magnified; my shipping problems had taken a turn toward the literal.

Calls twice a week for the next month produced no results. I pleaded, I reasoned, I badgered. The boys at EPC were impervious to the idea of accountability, and I say “boys” because never – in over a dozen phone contacts – did I ever talk with a woman. I was getting screwed all right, but it amounted to an all-male $875 laptop dance.

Finally a snickering but sympathetic friend from Chicago suggested I contact the state’s Better Business Bureau while he contacted the California Attorney General’s office. It seems an FTC Mail Order Rule requires ordered products to be shipped within 30 days. California law demands that money be refunded within seven days if the company cannot make good on its delivery. I faxed this information to EPC, on school-district letterhead, implying that the Attorney General might pursue my complaint as a federal crime since school-district e-mail was used in the promotion.

Two days later my money was returned. Using promotional logic and putting the best possible spin on my entire computer experience, I’d have to say the laptop I never received could have been the best one I never had.

David Feela is a teacher at Montezuma-Cortez High School.

Published in David Feela

Yes, I’m a liberal, and proud of it

It’s getting somewhat trying of late to be labeled by people who are ignorant of the meaning of words. Take “liberal,” a word bandied about by some folks who it seems have never opened a dictionary. When one becomes aware of the meaning of liberal one should be proud to be addressed as such instead of considering it an insult.

The same is true of the word “conservative.” Some people toss it around like it is a term implying nobility or righteousness. Look in the dictionary, however, and it is relegated to a few short phrases, none of which touch on any religious faith. Nor does it pertain to any vision of the future. Instead, “conservative” means to more or less be in lock step with the existing authority — disposed to maintain existing institutions or views; opposed to change; within safe bounds; favoring the conservation of existing institutions and forms of government.

Liberal, on the other hand, has many meanings, all of which seem pretty positive. Befitting a man of free birth, not restricted. Bestowing in a large and noble way, generous. Not narrow or contracted in mind; broad-minded; not bound by orthodox tenets or established forms in political or religious philosophy; independent in opinion.

Which would you rather be?

For years conservatives have worked to make sure that everyone shudders at the term liberal. Now, though, conservatives are growing uneasy about their own monicker, as they seek to distance themselves from President Bush, whom they once embraced as one of their own. Now that his policies on every front are proving to be failures, conservatives are claiming that Bush isn’t truly one of them, never was, in fact.

A new book written by a selfdescribed Reaganite conservative and lifelong Republican goes even further. Entitled, “Impostor: How George W. Bush Bankrupted America and Betrayed the Reagan Legacy” by Bruce Bartlett, it is one of the most hilarious things I have ever read. The author claims (horror of horrors!) that Bush and his cohorts are not only not conservatives, they are liberals!

Please pick me up when I fall down laughing. What great lengths the conservatives will go to to put distance between themselves and their glorious leaders, Bush, Rove, Cheney and Rumsfeld! It’s to the point where one almost has to feel a bit of liberal compassion for Boy George and his cronies.

All these supportive buddies who patted him on the back and bought him drinks and gave out many “atta boy, you can do no wrong” statements are now jumping ship. One has to be proud of friends like that!

I do feel a tinge of compassion for the Shrub, but maybe I’m not as good a liberal as I should be, because a true liberal has compassion for all mankind, and I don’t really have much for these conservatives who elected Bush and now shun him. (Who was it who said, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they have done?” Was he conservative or liberal?)

If the behavior of the Bush administration or its former supporters is conservative, then that is the word that ought to be the true insult.

Now that you know the meanings of both words, I hope you’ll understand when I thank you for the compliment if you label me a liberal.

Galen Larson is a Montezuma County landowner.

Published in Galen Larson

Rural motorists enjoy life in the fast lane

Here’s a challenge: Drive through McElmo Canyon at the speed limit. Go ahead, try it. Motor along at 40 mph down County Road G, which offers the shortest route from Cortez to Utah’s Aneth, Montezuma Creek, and Bluff.

Odds are you’ll be tailgated, yelled at, flipped off, and passed on the double yellow. And the folks who do it would probably argue that you’re the problem for going too slow.

Drivers everywhere like to speed, and in rural Western areas where it’s a long way to anywhere, motorists are especially lead-footed.

According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, 38 percent of all fatal crashes in Colorado in 2004 were speed-related. That compares to a national average of 30 percent. The percentage of speed-related fatal crashes for the other Four Corners states in 2004 was 36 percent in New Mexico, 34 in Arizona, and 28 in Utah.

PATROL OFFICER ANGELO MARTINEZDoes everyone speed?

“If anybody tells you they don’t speed, they’re lying,” said Montezuma County Commissioner Dewayne Findley, who admits that he exceeds the limit upon occasion himself, though not as he did back in the days of the 55 mph limit.

“That infuriated me,” he said. “I probably drove 15 to 20 miles over the limit. I had a fuzz-buster. Now 65 seems fast enough and I don’t speed excessively, maybe every once in a while when I’m in a hurry.”

“Speed?! Me?! Never!” responded state Rep. Mark Larson (R-Cortez) via e-mail when asked if rural legislators are prone to zipping around the state. Then he conceded, “Okay, maybe occasionally. While I appreciate the nexus between legislative or elective service and the potential need to exceed posted speed limits, that is never an excuse to break the law.

“I do occasionally get behind by scheduling myself too tightly at events and as a result, have been issued a citation or two. And that is as it should be. Generally I do slow down for awhile but human nature being what it is, the further away in time that I get from the citation incident, the easier is it to forget and be sucked into the current events and how late I am. Vaaaarrrooooom!”

But while a great many citizens speed, many of the same people become irate when drivers zoom past their houses or exceed the limit by more than they themselves are doing. Complaints about speeders are one of the issues most likely to set the phones ringing in local sheriff’s offices.

“Speed is definitely a problem, especially on some of these roads south of Dove Creek where there’s a straight stretch of 6 or 7 miles,” said Dolores County Sheriff Jerry Martin. “It seems like the better the job the Road and Bridge department does, the faster the public wants to go.”

“I get a lot of calls about traffic, about various roads where people want us to crack down,” agreed Montezuma County Sheriff Gerald Wallace.

But cracking down isn’t easy for rural sheriff’s departments already struggling to keep up with methamphetamine abuse, domestic violence, burglaries and other crimes.

“We don’t have a lot of time to deal with traffic,” Wallace said. “Our No. 1 priority is crimes against people. No. 2 is crimes against property. Traffic is No. 3.

“If we were a bigger agency we would have people assigned to traffic in particular hot spots across the county. But as the county grows, we’re seeing more calls for service.” It’s difficult to find time to stake out county roads and catch speeders, he said, although his officers do it when they can.

No Autobahns

But is excessive speed really as much of a problem as safety advocates maintain? There are skeptics who argue vociferously that the real problem isn’t speed, it’s poorly engineered roads and bad drivers.

From 1995 to 1999, the state of Montana had no daytime speed limit on its interstate highways, only what was “reasonable and prudent.” Until last November, drivers in the freewheeling state could also carry open containers of alcohol.

Pressure from the federal government forced Montana to implement speed limits and ban open containers, but the state has seen no corresponding drop in fatal accidents, according to the National Motorists Association, which advocates for “the rights and interests of North American motorists.”

In Germany, about half of the famed Autobahn highway system has no set speed limit, though there is a recommended speed of 130 kilometers per hour (81 mph). Despite the high speeds, accident, injury, and death rates are low, according to information on the Internet. Injury accidents on the Autobahn amount to about 6 percent of all injury accidents and less than 12 percent of traffic fatalities in the country, even though the system carries a third of all Germany’s traffic.

But the Autobahn is superbly designed and maintained. It has three or four lanes in each direction, a central median, long acceleration and deceleration lanes, gentle curves, and wildlife-protection fencing.

Drivers are strictly prohibited from passing on the right or staying in the left lane longer than necessary to pass. There are rules spelling out how to behave in traffic jams or accidents, and running out of gas is illegal.

In the Four Corners and the rural West, most county roads and state highways are nowhere near as wide, smooth, well-designed or well-regulated.

“We don’t have any Autobahns out here,” Wallace said.

But, he added, “I would agree with some of these articles that speed itself isn’t a nail in the coffin. It’s a combination of factors — speed, alcohol, young drivers, people talking on cell phones. If you have an experienced driver wearing a seat belt, paying attention, on a good road, the only vehicle, and he’s speeding, that may not be enough to put him in a bad situation.

But the more factors you put into the equation, the more of a problem it will be.”

Rural road hazards

Speeding also ties in with other dangerous traffic offenses, Wallace said. “People become impatient and get up behind a slower car and that leads to passing when you shouldn’t, passing on the shoulder, things like that,” he said.

Martin agrees that excessive speed is a serious concern. He said rural roads offer a number of special hazards. “Excessive speed, say 10 to 20 miles over the limit, is a problem, especially for farming areas where there is equipment on the road,” Martin said. “All the way from Monticello to Cortez is an agricultural area, and here in another month we’ll have wide equipment on the roads. People who are speeding don’t anticipate these slow-moving farm vehicles.”

Martin said that’s why the Dolores County Sheriff’s Department patrols for speed during the spring more than any other time. “To me it’s just a life-threatening factor,” he said.

Another common obstacle on rural roads is wildlife. Deer, elk, coyotes, and of course domestic dogs and cats can dart into the lane of travel without warning. Dawn and dusk are especially dangerous times to speed, because of all the animal activity.

“Deer and elk can jump out in front of you so quick,” Wallace said. “And at night, if you’re speeding, you can be out-driving your headlights.

“One of the safest things you can practice is role-playing. Imagine what would happen if an animal ran out in front of you right then.”

Collisions involving animals aren’t usually fatal to the humans involved, but they can be. Two men from Cortez died the night of Sept. 13, 2005, when their car struck a deer on U.S. Highway 160. Neither was wearing a seat belt.

Speed regularly crops up as a factor in serious accidents. On June 12, 2005, a 21-year-old Dolores man speeding over 100 mph on the town’s Railroad Avenue died when his motorcycle struck a utility pole after he had been swerving around other traffic.

And in one of the most devastating crashes in the past few years, three area residents died in the early morning hours of Feb. 20, 2005, when their pickup rolled while speeding down the McElmo Canyon Road near the Utah border. Weather and alcohol were also believed to be factors.

14 horse trailers

Speed is always an issue in McElmo Canyon. The narrow county road stretches 25 miles from U.S. Highway 491 west to the Utah border and beyond. Until the mid-1990s, half of the road was gravel and no one could go very fast over the bone-jarring bumps. When it was finally chipsealed, the volume of traffic soared, and so did speed.

Drivers love to whip around the serpentine curves like stars in a car commercial. But the canyon offers a plethora of hazards: potholes, tight turns, residential driveways, loose dogs, cyclists and occasional cattle drives. Shoulders are virtually nonexistent on the narrow road, and there are several steep drop-offs. Accidents occur frequently.

Susan Thomas, who lives off the McElmo Road near the Sand Canyon trailhead, can attest to the dangers. While she was backing out of her driveway onto the road Oct. 22, 2005, another vehicle smashed into hers. Although the second vehicle was traveling somewhat over the speed limit, Thomas said, speed wasn’t considered the main cause of the accident.

Regardless, the crash sent Thomas to the hospital for seven weeks. Her pelvis was broken in four places, along with vertebrae in her neck, and nearly all her ribs. She has mostly recovered and is walking, but she was left with permanent damage to her eyesight.

She believes the 40-mph speed limit should be even lower along the road past Sand Canyon and Battle Rock Charter School a few miles away. “It’s a unique stretch,” she said. “There are a number of smaller properties, there’s a dangerous curve right before the school, and there’s actually pedestrian traffic on the road.”

In addition, the trailhead draws heavy traffic. “One day I saw 14 horse trailers at Sand Canyon,” Thomas said. “They don’t come out of that parking lot very fast. It would really make sense to enforce the 40 (miles per hour) and even have a zone that was 30.”

Slapping on chip-seal

But lowering speed limits means nothing if drivers don’t obey them. Most drivers travel at the highest speed they think conditions will allow. Studies have shown that they simply disregard limits that seem artificially low, say, if a municipal speed limit is extended too far outside town.

“We have tried to make the limits on county roads a little more realistic,” Wallace said. “Some were 30 mph and we raised them to 40.” An example was Road L from Highway 145 to Road 25, the Lebanon Road. “If the speed sign is not realistic to the area and the traffic flow, people are not going to obey it.”

The National Motorists Association maintains that speed limits should be set at the 85th percentile — the speed at which only 15 percent of drivers are going faster. The safest drivers are those traveling around that number, the group says; the very fastest and very slowest are believed to be more dangerous drivers because they are reckless or lack confidence, respectively.

Where a speed limit has to be low because of traffic hazards such as pedestrians, experts say, better signs and other visual cues as well as engineering measures can slow traffic. Such measures include speed humps (slightly raised pavement), raised medians, and “bulb-outs” — curb extensions at intersections that reduce the travel-lane width.

But those measures are more suited to municipal areas, and most rural counties don’t have the funds to reengineer their roads anyway. When a gravel county road in Montezuma or Dolores counties is paved, usually it’s done in the cheapest way possible, by slapping on three layers of chip-seal. Shoulders typically aren’t widened and curves aren’t straightened.

Montezuma County’s Findley said there was great concern when the McElmo Road was chip-sealed that “they were probably going to kill people” because the curves weren’t going to be straightened much, but that accidents haven’t soared as feared.

Now that the county is planning to chip-seal the 26-mile Hovenweep Road, some citizens have voiced concerns about speed and safety there. Findley said the commissioners looked at the road and agree that Road BB off Highway 491 is quite narrow, but after that 5-mile stretch, people turn onto Road 10, and it widens out.

Besides, he said, chip-sealed roads can be safer than gravel because drivers stay in their lanes when the road is striped. “If it’s a gravel road it turns into a three-track, everybody running down the middle,” he said.

Still, Findley acknowledged that chip-sealing promotes the petal-to-themetal problem. “Any time you chipseal they’re going to drive 60 mph.”

He mentioned a different concern about speed, specifically related to gravel roads.

“It creates greater wear and tear,” he said. “The rocks are flying and we lose the surface. If the roads are rough, people complain like crazy, but they drive slower. If the roads are graded and smooth, they drive faster and the roads deteriorate faster. It’s a vicious circle.”

Respect for others

Driving faster than necessary has other drawbacks. One is noise.

Thomas said although her house in McElmo Canyon is built of stone, traffic noise is constant. “I hear it and I’ve had people come and stay overnight in the front room and the noise is substantial,” she said.

In addition to passenger cars and pickups, giant trucks carrying carbon dioxide or oil from the CO2 and Aneth fields rumble along the road constantly.

“If they were all driving 40 it would be quieter,” Thomas said.

Speeding also burns more fuel and creates more pollution, but few motorists seem troubled by such things.

Wallace said when speeders are stopped, some of their excuses are, “I didn’t realize how fast I was going”; “I’ve sped this way all my life and it’s been fine”; and even the puzzling, “I was running out of gas and I needed to get to the station quicker.”

Martin said the excuses he usually hears are, “I didn’t realize how fast I was going”; “My speedometer must be off”; and “I didn’t realize the limit had dropped to 65.” (The latter is voiced by people coming from I-70 or I-40.)

Whatever their rationalizations for driving fast, many rural motorists will continue to do so, and harried and under-staffed sheriff’s offices and Colorado state troopers (none of whom could be reached to comment for this story) will attempt to keep roads and highways safe.

“We’re not out there as a punishing tool,” Wallace said. “We’re out there to correct behaviors.” How likely an offender is to receive a speeding ticket depends partly on whether that person seems likely to speed again, he said.

He pleaded with the public to be considerate of the houses and farms they are speeding by. “People need to have respect for other people,” he said. “Treat them the way you’d want to be treated if you lived in that last house you just sped by where you nearly took out their mailbox.”

Published in April 2006

Mystery explores Arapaho-Shoshone conflict

Boulder, Colo., author Margaret Coel loves wolves, because they “can see very far, and are alert to changes in their environment.”

Using the wolf as metaphor in her mystery, “Eye of the Wolf,” she creates a villain that resembles a wolf. “He or she can take advantage of things, and make things happen.”

That keeps the book’s main characters, Boston Irish priest Father John O’Malley and Arapaho lawyer Vicky Holden, busy on the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming. There, the Arapaho share land with their traditional enemies, the Shoshone.

How did a Boulder writer develop an interest in Indians living in an area spreading from the foothills of the Wind River Mountains into the plains of west-central Wyoming?

The Arapaho originally lived in Colorado, where Boulder, Denver, Fort Collins, and Colorado Springs now stand. Coel also started her career writing history. Her interest in the Arapahos grew from research.

“My first book, ‘Chief Left Hand,’ was a biography of an Arapaho chief in the 1800s,” she explains. It tells “the story of Arapaho history.”

“They were traders. The first white people who encountered them called them the businessmen of the plains.”

Though they fought to protect their villages and hunting grounds, the Arapahos made peace if they could. “War is bad for business,” Coel says.

When the Arapahos arrived at Wind River in 1878, the Shoshone had lived there for seven years. “They are very different people,” explains Coel. The Arapahos migrated with the buffalo. The Shoshone farmed and raised sheep. Hunting supplemented their economy. Conflict between them arose over land use.

Once on the reservation, the groups learned to live together. The Shoshone settled along the foothills of the Wind River Mountains, the Arapahos in the valley. Today, they jointly manage the land.

In “Eye of the Wolf,” Coel explores the time before coexistence. “What I’m looking at is how maybe anger and animosity might translate into the present. That becomes the basis of the plot.”

As the story opens, someone has killed three Shoshone college students on the Bates Battlefield, where in 1874, Shoshone scouts led the United States Cavalry to an Arapaho village. The soldiers slaughtered everyone living there.

Father John fears the worst when he sees the bodies at Bates, all posed like dead warriors in old photographs. Someone wants to encourage the hatred. Why? And who?

He, his parishioners, and the police suspect Frankie Montana, an Arapaho trouble-maker who fights constantly with Shoshones. Because he drifts around the reservation drinking and crashing at drug houses, most decent people of both groups despise Frankie.

His mother, Lucille, begs Vicky to become Frankie’s lawyer. Because Lucille is a friend, Vicky agrees to take the case.

Frankie asserts he did not commit the crime, but is too terrified to talk to Vicky or the police. Looking at the evidence, Vicky begins to think he may not be the killer. Can Vicky and Father John find the murderer? Or is the killer like the wolf, so far ahead of his pursuers, he or she can’t be caught?

The answer places Vicky’s life in danger. “I like to put my characters into tough situations, because I think it’s fun to see how (they) get out of those situations,” Coel says.

“Eye of the Wolf” is the 11th in a series of John O’Malley/Vicky Holden mysteries, so when Vicky gets into a tight spot, “(readers) know she has to survive.” They stay with the book to see how.

Coel also has fun with subplots. Father John and Vicky have been close friends since he arrived at the reservation’s Catholic mission several years ago. “They’re not old. They’re in their 40s. And he is a bit attracted to her.”

However Father John is a priest, and a good one, who wants to keep his vows. “That adds a little spice to the novel,” Coel chuckles.

Coel makes her depiction of Arapaho life as authentic as she can. She attends many tribal ceremonies and powwows each year. An Arapaho friend reads her manuscripts to make sure Cole has “said nothing wrong and given no false impression” about the tribe.

“I’m very aware that someone in Rhode Island, or Hawaii or Germany may pick up one of my novels and it may be the only book they ever read about the Arapahos.

“(The Arapahos) all read my books, and have wonderful comments. They’ll say, ‘Oh, you wrote about Sage Creek Road. I used to live on Sage Creek Road.’ They like to read about places they know.”

They enjoy the attention the books bring, she adds. People don’t hear much about the Arapahos.Most authors write about the Sioux or Comanche. “I try to stay on top of the issues important to them, and work those issues into my novels,” she says.

Published in April 2006, Arts & Entertainment

Utah Navajos seek trust-fund accounting

I have a private joke about the founding of this San Juan country, if it can be said that it was ever “founded.” Indeed it was not devoid of human habitation when the first Mormons came here at the end of the 19th Century. It was not devoid of humans when the Spanish came here more than a century earlier.

KENNETH MARYBOYBut the way I understand the most recent “founding” of southeast Utah, God (through his apostle Brigham Young) told the Mormons to go to Montezuma Creek to form an outpost on the edge of the new Mormon empire.

You could understand their reluctance to go any farther than they did: They’d come across some of the most brutal desert in the Southwest, down steep canyon walls and waterless, back-breaking, desolate country; they’d dynamited, picked and shoveled, lowered their pack animals in slings down places they could not traverse, they’d broken their wheels and their axles, they’d come up against the unbroken, unbreakable stubbornness of Comb Ridge, and picked and sweated and shoveled their way over San Juan Hill and across the country beyond and come finally to the little oasis of Bluff, and there they stopped. They could go no farther.

But the way I heard it was God told them to go to Montezuma Creek, not Bluff, and had they obeyed Him everything would have turned out differently. They couldn’t farm the sandy-bottomed country around Bluff. With an intransigence which frustrated them, seasonal floods wiped out their plans to irrigate from the San Juan River by wrecking the ditches they built with picks, shovels and broken backs.

LEONARD LEEAfter years of defeat they moved closer to the “Blue” Mountains (the Abajos, the Spanish named them, and so they are formally called), and traded their plows for lariats — they had much better luck ranching in this country with good winter range.

In the 1920s and ’30s the Bureau of Reclamation was crazy about dams, and it wanted to build one downstream across Glen Canyon. The problem was that a huge area that would be flooded by present-day Lake Powell was Navajo Reservation land, deeded by the Treaty of 1868.

So what did the government do? What it has always done when it suddenly found the natives occupying a desirable site it had given them by treaty — it changed the treaty. In 1933 Congress created the Aneth Extension, a looping surge of land which extends from east of Aneth north of the San Juan River and west of Montezuma Creek, in exchange for the area to be flooded by Lake Powell.

In addition to the land the government promised the Navajo Nation royalties from any minerals found on or beneath the surface of that land.

Of that royalty, 37 1/2 percent was promised to the Utah Navajos affected by any such mineral exploration. The government set up a trust fund in 1933. The act, as amended, limits expenditure of the funds to “the health, education, and general welfare of the Navajo Indians residing in San Juan County, Utah.” The trust fund was to be administered by the state of Utah.

In the early part of the 20th Century the San Juan River basin was awash with speculators and prospectors : They wanted gold, silver, oil. Oil? Yes, oil. Back in the 1920s there was a fair amount of prospecting for oil around Mexican Hat, and a number of wells were drilled, but they didn’t get diddlysquat for oil: little piss-ant wells that yielded in gallons rather than barrels.

It turns out they were looking for it in the wrong place.

There was oil, plenty of it, one of the biggest oilfields ever hit — all around the Aneth- Montezuma Creek area. I wonder how it would have turned out had the Mormons followed God’s will?

Missing money

The Navajo Nation got the millions for the leases from the oil companies, wells were drilled, and oil flowed.

The Utah Navajos who lived where the oil exploration and drilling occurred suffered a great deal as a consequence. Their way of life was severely disrupted. Traditional pasture was ruined by trucks, bulldozers, drilling rigs, and men.

Over time the springs and groundwater were permanently tainted (“Makes bad coffee,” commented former Aneth chapter president, Vietnam veteran, and public school teacher Wesley Jones), and the thudding of the pumps day and night disturbed the rest of children and elders. Health problems became epidemic as a consequence, the Navajos maintain.

But of course the oil boom had benefits, especially in the early years. There was a lot of oil in the 1950s, and the Utah Navajo Trust Fund grew. Navajos had jobs working in the oilfields and much-needed income flowed into the households.

But after the wells were established, up and running, only the maintenance crews were left. The environmental and health concerns continued.

And the payoff, the Utah Navajo Trust Fund, seems to be mysteriously missing a great deal of the money put aside “for the benefit of the Utah Navajos.”

Four major lawsuits have been filed over the years in an unsuccessful attempt to find out what happened to the money: the Sakizzie case in 1962, the Jim case, the Bigman case and finally, Pelt vs. Utah, a class-action lawsuit brought in 1992 on behalf of tribal members in San Juan County. That case is currently under litigation.

In January of this year, a federal judge ruled that the state must search accounting records back to 1955 to try to track millions of dollars allegedly unaccounted for in the fund. In her ruling, U.S. District Judge Tena Campbell said Utah must provide a more detailed accounting of how the Utah Navajo trust monies were managed and spent.

I asked Brian Barnard, lead attorney for the plaintiffs in Pelt vs. Utah, how much money they believe is missing from the fund.

“In the neighborhood of $30 million to $40 million,” he responded. That’s a fair amount of change, especially for people who suffer from the highest unemployment of any ethnic group in the state, a lack of infrastructure (sewer, water, electricity, roads), and little industry.

Going belly-up

Where has the money gone? Pelt (the name of the lead plaintiff) vs. Utah seeks to answer that question.

The Utah Navajo Development Council, a nonprofit based in New Mexico, was created in the 1970s as a means of channeling trust-fund money to the Utah Navajos. Later, the council created a subsidiary, the for-profit Utah Navajo Industries, which was supposed to use trust monies to help small businesses on the reservation.

The development council and UNI were not created by Navajos, but by Anglos in the San Juan County community, in collaboration with their counterparts in Salt Lake City.

According to Barnard, projects received funding that had no business plans or clearly delineated goals. Money was spent, a lot of it, according to Utah Navajo accounts, and nobody quite knew where it went.

“Every one of their (UNI’s) projects went belly-up,” Barnard said. Both UNI and the development council have declared bankruptcy and are defunct; officers from both entities were convicted of embezzling from the trust fund. According to an audit performed by the Utah legislature in 1991: “Since 1959, the (Utah) state trust fund administrators have received approximately $61 million and have spent approximately $52 million. Approximately $9.6 million remains in the fund (at the time of the audit in 1991). While the trust fund has produced many benefits for Utah Navajos, some funds have been wasted or spent inefficiently.”

According to Leonard Lee, current chairman of the Dineh Committee, which serves as an advisory committee to the trust fund’s board of trustees, the trust fund was down to $6 million at one point. It now has $22 million.

Endurance race

It was nearly sunset on a breathtaking Sunday when I rode mi moto out to see Kenneth Maryboy, the Navajo Tribal Council delegate who represents the Aneth and Mexican Water chapters, at White Rock Point, 10 miles southwest of Bluff. Maryboy is listed as a plaintiff in the current case. He was behind his house with a gang of teenagers working on their four-wheelers, spinning wrenches, silent, intense.

“Damn,” he said, and stood gazing at my bike, hands on his hips. “That’s some kind of bike.”

I couldn’t help looking at his jacket. It had a design that was different than traditional camo. Pockets on the sleeves. Velcro at the throat. Man, I gotta have me one of those jackets. There’s an industry on the the Navajo reservation named Navasew, in Montezuma Creek, and Navajos are making those jackets for the U.S. military.

He poked around on my bike and I poked around on his jacket. I asked about his four-wheelers. There were a dozen of them parked out there behind the house. Most of them were either being torn apart or put back together.

“We’re on our way to Wendover, Nevada,” he said. “We’re going to race a 150-mile endurance race.”

“Cross-country?” I asked.

“About half salt flats and half cross-country, rugged terrain,” he said.

“Damn,” I said.

“It’s about drug and alcohol awareness,” he said. “We’re giving the kids something to do, something to think about besides drugs and alcohol. What’d you come way out here for?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the Utah Navajo Trust Fund,” I said. We arranged a meeting later in the week.

I started to leave. Hit the starter button. Nothing. I knew my switch was defective. I’d cracked it the week before. Maryboy came back over.

He fiddled with it, then said, “Where’s your battery?”

I took the seat off and he traced the battery lead to the selonoid, went to his toolbox for a pair of needle-nosed pliers, connected the positive to the negative, and “Vrroooooom,” she jumped to life.

“Damn,” I said.

Communication through litigation

No Navajo has ever served on the board of trustees of the Utah Navajo Trust Fund. “Wouldn’t it make sense,” Maryboy asked, “that a Utah Navajo would sit on the board of trustees of the Utah Navajo Trust Fund, since the trust fund was set up for the Utah Navajos?”

He said communication between tribe and the state and county is bad.

“The only way we communicate with them is through litigation,” he said.

“We just found out that $3.5 million has been requested from the trust fund and nobody knew about it. The Utah Navajo Health System wants the money for the health facility in Monument Valley. This money is supposed to be for the benefit of the Utah Navajos, but the Utah Navajos were not consulted about this funding request. It should have come before the people before it was requested from the State of Utah.”

I asked Maryboy and Lee, head of the Dineh Committee, whether they thought the case would be settled.

“There are many things we could accomplish if we could settle this question,” Lee said. “We have business investments we want to make.

“The Utah Navajo Trust Fund is for the benefit of the Utah Navajos,” Lee added, “but the good old boys in San Juan County have managed to divert the funds for themselves.”

“I don’t know how they do it,” Maryboy said. “They’re smart.”

‘Not a reasonable position’

A hearing is scheduled before Campbell on April 27 to decide how much detail the state must provide in its accounting of funds spent in the past. An unanswered question is whether the state is liable to pay back the money if it turns out that funds are indeed missing and unaccounted for.

The state’s position is that it has shouldered its share of the responsibility in the case and should not be held liable.

“The state has produced accounting records,” said Deputy Attorney General Phil Lott by phone from the state attorney general’s office in Salt Lake. “There is disagreement over the extent of the accounting required.

“As long as the state can show that the money was spent appropriately and it benefited the San Juan County Navajos as required by federal statute… there may be areas where there are questions about whether the money was appropriately spent, but to say that we must account for every penny and dime that went through the trust is simply not a reasonable position.

“Roofs were put on people’s houses, homes were built, young people have been sent to college. To say that every penny of the trust fund has been misspent is simply not reasonable.”

Lott said the plaintiffs are trying to force the state to do accounting for the defunct development council.

“If $100,000 was approved to give to UNDC for college tuition, for example, if UNDC misspent that money, still the state has fulfilled its obligation,” he said.

“If the request was appropriate, the state was told where the money was going, and someone misspent the money, then it’s really not the state’s responsibility.”

“That’s not good enough,” responded Barnard. “We can’t know about trust funds without an accounting.

“Essentially the beneficiaries (the Utah Navajos) don’t know what’s going on with the trust,” Barnard said, “and we think some of the expenditures of the trust money were outside the scope of the trust.” But there is no way to prove it without an accounting, and the state of Utah has fought that every step of the way, he said.

“The problem was that UNDC made a lot of bad investments; there was a lot of corruption, and as part of the accounting process, we are saying to the state: ‘You must account for the ways in which UNDC spent the money.’

“We need to know exactly what UNDC did with the money, that it was spent properly, that the beneficiaries did get the benefits, and that it was all done legally.”

Published in April 2006

Travel video spurs teacher’s suspension

Two high-profile incidents in Colorado that raise questions about academic freedom have a counterpart in Cortez.

Shortly before winter break, a Montezuma-Cortez High School teacher was suspended for showing a travel video in which sex reared its ugly head in more ways than one.

In response to a student’s complaint, District Re-1 administrators on Dec. 18, 2005, placed Spanish teacher Allison Kercher on paid administrative leave, not even allowing her to return to the school that day to collect her belongings.

The video, shown to her class on Nov. 4, 2005, was part of the adventure travel series “Globe Trekker,” shown on PBS.

The segment on southern Spain begins with a visit to the city of Ronda and a traveling exhibit from the Spanish Inquisition era that focuses on witches. Walking through the museum, narrator Christina Chang relates briskly, “Witches were women who didn’t believe in Christian chastity. In fact they promoted sexual liberation with orgies, etc.”

Stopping in front of a chair with a protruding phallic-shaped implement, she says, “If you were a woman who owned this particular sexual tool and you used it in secrecy, then you were either considered a witch or someone who was affected by a witch. Or maybe you weren’t a witch at all and you were just a modern girl who liked to have a good time.

“So this is I think how this chair works. You sit on it, just turn the wheel like that, and it goes up and down just like that. Pretty self-explanatory. . .”

She turns a crank and the dildo moves up and down.

She moves on to describe a torture device known as the rack, then picks up a small implement and says, “This is a nipple-cutter — snipper — and this just lays across the breast like this.” She holds it toward her shirt. “Just pull that nipple right through and snip, snip.” She then matter-of-factly moves on to another torture device.

The segment in the torture museum lasts about 2 minutes. The remainder of the hour-long show is devoted to other aspects of southern Spain, including wind-surfing and local cuisine.

Kercher, a teacher in her second year at MCHS under a mentoring program through Western State University, said she showed a travel video every Friday afternoon to her beginning Spanish class and had shown this one to other classes. “I’d shown it last year and I showed it to all my other classes this last semester and there was no problem,” she told the Free Press.

Kercher said the DVD was in the school library and had been selected by the head of her department, Danny Gerlach, chair of the department/head Spanish teacher. “He had said there might be a [questionable] part in there but he had still shown the video,” Kercher said.

A freshman girl in the class was strongly offended by the torture-museum segment and told her mother, Jennifer Green of Cortez, who filled out a school complaint form Nov. 24, 2005.

“Mrs. Kercher showed my daughter and 2 other classes a very sexually explicit DVD,” she wrote on the form. In answer to what specific action she was requesting, she wrote, “I want the school board to review DVD. I would like to ask for the termination of (the) teacher. Severe reprimand or termination of Dept. Head (Denny Gerlach) who gave DVD to teacher knowing its contents. Apology to my child. Compensation for damages to her.”

Green told the Free Press that when she heard about the incident and later viewed the show, “I was scared for [my daughter]. I was very mad that she’d been violated that way.

“Sexual torture is just not something graphically you show children,” she said. “It’s just not.”

Part of history

District Re-1 “Movie and Video Guidelines” state that “a parent permission slip must be obtained for any materials not rated or pertaining to a potential controversial nature.”

Another district policy statement on “Teaching about Controversial/ Sensitive Issues” states, “Each teacher has the right and the obligation to teach about controversial issues. It is their responsibility to select issues for study and discussion which contribute to the attainment of course objectives…”

In a letter of response to the complaint, Kercher wrote that the video was not sexually explicit and was shown “with clear educational objectives in mind.”

“This segment is but brief and didn’t negate my purpose for showing this video, which was to expose my students to Spain, the cradle of Spanishspeaking civilization, and its history,” she wrote.

She added that she was never informed there was a district guideline stating the need for a parental permission slip to view videos “pertaining to a potential controversial nature.” She said she would follow guidelines in the future and would make sure everything she showed was either on an approved list or had a parental permission slip.

Kercher told the Free Press that she met with the girl and her parents, and they had questions about whether she would show the program again.

“I basically said that I was sorry that she was so offended by it but I wasn’t sorry for showing the movie. It was a part of history.”

Subsequently, Kersher was summoned to a meeting with MCHS Principal Ember Conley, Superintendent Stacy Houser, and assistant Superintendent Dave Crews.

“Basically they told me I could resign and they’d give me a good recommen- dation or I would be suspended with pay and they would report me to CDE (the Colorado Department of Education).

“That was at 10 o’clock in the morning on a Friday and I couldn’t go back to school to get my stuff.”

She said it occurred about a week before winter break. “I didn’t even get to finish the semester. They said it was best for the kids that I wasn’t there.”

A few weeks later, Kersher said, she did go back to the school to talk the matter over with administrators. “I said, ‘Was it because of the video?’ They said, ‘You keep thinking it’s the video when it was your communications skills with the parents.’

“Afterwards I was thinking, if it was that, then how come no one helped me? I had asked Ember before this meeting with the parents and [the student] if she could help me prepare for it. I asked if we needed mediation. She e-mailed back that she didn’t think it was necessary. I never had much support from the beginning.”

Kersher said, after she was put on leave, she was also told that she “needed to stay by the phone. I said, ‘What are you going to have me do?’ They said, ‘We thought you would substitute but then we thought that would defy the whole purpose of not being in school. Then we thought maybe you could tutor one-on-one.’ I said, ‘You want me to tutor when I’m not even allowed in the school?’ and they said, ‘Oh, good point’.”

Kersher will be paid through the end of the school year. She said she remains unhappy with how the situation was handled and worries how it will affect her career. “Because they wrote ‘very sexually explicit’ [on the complaint] it could prevent me from getting a job in the future as a teacher or working with children,” she said.

Rough treatment

Green, on the other hand, likewise is not satisfied with way things were resolved. “They fired the teacher but they never gave my daughter anything. They didn’t offer her counseling, the whole school was against her, a lot of the teachers made remarks to her, they didn’t protect her from any of that.

“What I’m really upset about is no one’s contacted us. We got together and had a meeting with the teacher and all we asked for was an apology from the teacher. We got in there. . . and the teacher ridiculed my daughter. She was in tears when we left. She told her that she needed to grow up, she didn’t see anything wrong with the video, stuff like that.”

Green said if Kersher had said she’d made a mistake and wouldn’t repeat it, she would have been satisfied.

“If she had gone on about it that way …. but she wasn’t, she was callous, she saw no problem with it and I think that’s why the school got rid of her.”

The girl, a straight-A student, was sick with a stress-related illness for three months after the incident.

“It hurt her a lot. She got really sick.”

Her daughter has always been a public- school student, she said, but will be going to Lighthouse Baptist Christian school next year. “She’s asked us to pull her,” Green said — not because of the video itself but because of her treatment after the incident.

“The video was bad, but she’s a big girlt,” Green said. “I think what happened to her afterwards, the way she was treated, was worse. It dragged out for a long time. People were very mean to her. There was a write-up in the school paper pretty much aimed at her.

“It’s going to cost us $3,000 [in tuition] next year but when they ask, what do you do?”

But her daughter will finish the year at MCHS, she said. “The treatment has died down. She’s a tough kid, it’s not like she’s some little wuss.”

An editorial in the school’s March issue of the Panther Press, by managing editor Nelsa Burkett, stated, “One teacher got in trouble this year, for showing a movie that has been shown many times to students before. . . . Another teacher talked about a controversial personal experience during class time and was escorted off campus. . . .

“For our MCHS teachers, it only seems to take one comment from a student to be removed from class. Is that fair?”

Sensitive to standards

Superintendent Houser declined to discuss the action taken against Kersher, since it is a personnel issue, but did talk in general terms about student complaints and academic freedom. “Personnel decisions aren’t done in a vacuum,” Houser said, but rather “made on a body of evidence and done in the students’ best interest.”

He said of the video: “I thought it was objectionable. If my child had been in that class, I would not want my child to have seen it.”

He said it was not true that the entire travel program had been shown to students before.

“That’s not exactly true — the DVD itself had been shown before, [but] the portion of it that was shown in [Kersher’s] class had not been shown before.”

Houser said public-school systems have to remain more in tune with popular views than higher education does.

“Universities have a much higher standard of academic freedom than public schools do,” he said. “We have to be more sensitive to the predominant mores within a community, and go by community standards as to what is offensive and what is not.”

He said he believes, although teachers have to follow policy, there is plenty of latitude for teaching. “I don’t think we’ve had problems in the past with teachers complaining about not being able to teach or even to teach on controversial topics.”

But Kersher said she wonders whether her suspension is part of a general climate of repression in classrooms in the state. In Aurora, Overland High School teacher Jay Bennish was suspended, then reinstated, for comparing President Bush to Hitler in class. In the town of Bennett, an elementary teacher was put on paid leave because she showed a video about opera that included a sock-puppet segment on “Faust” that featured the devil.

“I don’t know what’s happening in Colorado,” Kersher said.

Published in April 2006

Cleanliness is next to … something

I love to clean.

(Insert tongue in cheek)

I love the satisfaction of wiping down toothpaste-covered sinks, scrubbing mud, jelly and ground-in lettuce off the pergo floors. Vacuuming the living- room carpet is particularly satisfying when, in March, I am still sucking up needles from the Christmas tree.

Living in a houseful of boys, I can count on the privilege of getting to wipe pee from the toilet seat, the edge of the bowl and the floor around the toilet. Especially great is scrubbing it out of the grout. Soap-scum rings in the bathtub prove a task that I can tackle full force.

Especially satisfying was my day yesterday when after scrubbing the boys’ bathroom floor on my hands and knees, plus removing every last cat hair off the side of the bowl, the toilet overflowed (and overflowed and overflowed and overflowed) right after a number 2. Not only was I literally ankle-deep in toilet water, but I got to use every towel in the house to sop up the drink. The towels, fortunately, were extremely handy since I had just finished the laundry and they were on the living-room floor waiting to be folded and put away.

If anyone had told me that getting married and having children would mean that I would spend every minute of my time cleaning up after one person or another and that often those clean-ups would involve rotten food or bodily fluids, I would have skipped the whole girlhood dream altogether.

Why is it that motherhood suddenly makes a housewife out of the best of us? Growing up, I knew in my very fiber that I wanted to be a mother. My clock started ticking at about age 5. I even thought that marriage and Happily Ever After sounded pretty darn good. But scrubbing toilets and mopping the kitchen floor twice a day was never on my radar for ultimate goals in life.

I know that when I got married I had visions of sharing all of the duties, cleaning, earning money, chopping wood. We bought our house and planned on working side by side to remodel it. Then, less than a week after the closing, I started to feel queasy and within days I knew that that vision would change as sure as I knew that my belly would swell.

So here I am, 8 years later, having had a glorious time being a stay-at-home mother bonding with my children and hanging out with the other neighborhood mothers. And, I am the housewife that I never dreamed of being. Tom has worked full-time throughout the years, so someone had to deal with mopping, dusting and laundry, grocery-shopping, changing sheets and cleansing the fridge of mystery food in Tupperwares. Hell, I even buy the Tupperware.

Having been extremely anal and tidy before co-habitating, there are times when I do enjoy the return to an organized and clean house after a long day of getting it that way. Then, I hear the school bus stop outside and within 3 minutes, there’s mud in the kitchen, backpacks, books, papers, coats, hats and mittens strewn from the front door all the way to both boys’ bedrooms. Lunchboxes with spilled yogurt and juice are thrown on my freshly scrubbed kitchen counters, innards oozing down the spotless fronts.

“Can we have a snack?” results in Fruity Booty crushed all over the pergo and just a few more dishes for me to do. By the time my husband gets home from work to add his chaos to the fray, there is not one spec of evidence as to how I spent my day.

When he has spent the day cleaning up all of the wood scraps, shovels and broken plastic toys in the back yard, he makes it really clear to the kids that they will not scatter to the four winds any time soon. If they do, he vents to me.

“You’re preaching to the choir, buddy…that’s the story of my every day.”

I spent yesterday, my day off from my day job, cleaning and groceryshopping. We were out last night and got up first thing this morning to go to Durango. When I spontaneously asked a friend over for dinner, I thought, well, at least this time, the house is clean, I just have to cook. I was so proud of myself. This is how my mother lives. In such a state of tidiness that an unexpected visitor doesn’t throw her into an apoplectic fit of shame.

I just returned home and the cats have scattered litter all over the laundry room, mud got dragged all the way across the kitchen, there is a fresh pile of laundry to manage thanks to last night’s toilet epic, and there’s a slightly offensive smell emanating from somewhere in the back half of the house.

I’ve tried so hard, I feel so defeated; I’d thrown in the towel if I could find a clean one.

Suzanne Strazza lives in the Mancos Valley.

Published in Suzanne Strazza

In defense of (a little) intolerance

That dirty rotten Communist Karl Marx quite correctly pointed out that religion is the opium of the masses. Karl (I feel like we’re on a first-name basis since I’ve also been cursed as a dirty rotten Communist), who preferred name-callers use the appellation of “scientific socialist,” observed that throughout history organized religions have been used by political and theological leaders to control their disgruntled populations — especially during times of strife and hardship, such as when they were starving to death and dying in other painful and unnecessary ways while the upper crust was making out just fine.

It was the “Divine Right” of kings and lesser royalty to rule and prosper, commoners were told. God wanted certain people to be in charge, and decreed that all others must obey their commands, or suffer the eternal fires of Hell.

This earthly existence is only a testing ground, the ignorant and impoverished populace was sternly instructed by various churches working in league with whatever despot ran the show. This planet is a place of pain and suffering you unfortunates must struggle through in a non-rebellious manner to reap your reward in the next world, a land of milk and honey where you’ll walk on streets of gold. (It’s a condition technically described as eternal bliss.)

Or, as union organizer Joe Hill wrote in one of his songs:

Long-haired preachers come out every night
to tell you what’s wrong and what’s right
but when asked about something to eat
they will answer in voices so sweet:
‘You will eat by and by
in that glorious land above the sky
work and pray, live on hay
you’ll get pie in the sky when you die.’

History is replete with horrible examples of how amazingly well such promises of a cushy afterlife, combined with the threat of unending Hellfire for sinners, have worked toward the ruling powers’ ends, and never mind the great leaps forward in earth-bound misery they caused the faithful. The various Crusades during the Middle Ages, where true believers of the Christian stripe were lured to go on pathetic military campaigns to wrest the “Holy Land” from Muslim infidels (including the infamous and incredible Children’s Crusade), come to mind, as do the Spanish and other gory inquisitions the Roman Catholic Church imposed on suspected “heretics” throughout Europe, with chuch officials burning, hanging and killing in other creative ways anyone who would not embrace their particular one true God. (There were also a few Protestant inquisitions, but these upstart sects didn’t have nearly the clout for making mischief.)

At any rate, torturing and killing still seem to have an inexhaustible appeal to religious fanatics of most faiths and they can, of course, find plenty of justification for their contemptible actions in whichever holy guide book they follow.

For several decades recently devout Northern Irish Catholics and Protestants killed one another with great enthusiam because Jesus was on both their sides. Not that long ago, religious huckster Jim Jones convinced several hundred people living at his South American compound to drink poison because Jesus wanted them to. Religious huckster Pat Robertson takes it a step further, crediting God Himself with striking down Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon because He didn’t approve of a land deal.

But extremism among organized religions is not confined to Christianity. In the Middle East, the popular phenomenon of “suicide bombers” has become the supreme act of Muslim faith among certain fundamentalist sects, a practice where the true believer inserts himself into a crowd of infidels (sometimes the hated Jews, sometimes Christians and other times Muslims of different sects) and blows himself and anyone unlucky enough to be nearby to their personal Kingdom Comes. The zealot’s Kingdom of the future, according to this belief, involves a reward of numerous virgins and eternal life, apparently creating some sort of orgasmic loop.

One of the Danish political cartoons that sparked the riots and killings across the world of Islam last month showed a few tattered, post-explosion suicide-bombers running up a cloudy sky toward Heaven, from where Mohammed is shouting, “Slow down, we’ve run out of virgins!”

Another showed a representation of Mohammed wearing a turban that was actually a bomb with a lit fuse. Supposedly, worldwide Muslim outrage stemmed from the newspaper printing images of their prophet, forbidden in the Koran because it might lead to idolatry. (Don’t think that’ll be a problem in this case, but whatever.)

The cartoons were seized upon by some weighty Muslim clerics as proof of widespread prejudice againt the Islamic faith by Westerners, including the United States, of course, and they sparked weeks of shootings (mostly of demonstrators themselves) and embassy-burnings and uncounted denunciations of the Great Satan (that’s us, folks) and all the little-dog Satans that run with us.

Yet our leader’s first comment on the cartoon-sparked violence was to caution us to “respect” other people’s faiths and be “sensitive” to their beliefs. George “Some of my best friends are Arabs” Bush cautioned the media that “with freedom (of the press) comes the responsibility to be thoughtful about others,” and called for “a lot of discussion and a lot of sensitive thought.”

“I first want to make it very clear to people around the world that ours is a nation that believes in tolerance and understanding,” he said.

Hey, George. Count me out.

When it comes to religious philosophies that sanction and reward the slaying of non-believers in the name of their God, be it Allah, Jesus or Satan, I am not among the tolerant and respectful. I will never understand how such a wretched belief system deserves either tolerance or respect.

My tolerance for others’ religious beliefs goes only so far. In this country, we allegedly don’t countenance ritual slayings and/or torture of either humans or animals in the name of religion, so why should we tolerate any faith that inspires war and mayhem on a regular basis, that seems to encourage suicide, that promotes prejudice against anyone not marching in lockstep with its zealous leaders? (And I won’t even go into how women are treated.)

“Islam, like Christianity and Judaism, is a religion of peace, tolerance (and) moderation,” alleged Jordan’s King Abdullah, a devout Muslim who appeared at the same press conference where Bush uttered his bland emollients. And exactly where does the widespread Muslim hatred of the West, expressed in ugly words and even uglier deeds, fit into that, divine king?

David Grant Long lives in Cortez.

Published in David Long, March 2006

Policing your thoughts

Somewhere inside an American public school a teacher had just about had it. It was nearly the end of the week. He slid a stack of essays into his briefcase, turned off the classroom lights, and headed straight for the main office. The principal occupied her desk with a cell phone pressed to her ear, but she waved him in, gestured toward a chair, indicated with a single finger that she’d be just another minute.

He stood by the door. He waited. The essays in his briefcase got heavier as each minute passed, but he grew stronger, his resolve solidifying around the arch supports in his shoes.

“What can I do for you?” the principal finally asked as she snapped the cell phone shut.

“I’d like to turn myself in.”

“Turn yourself in?”

“Yes, I’d like to surrender myself to the administrative team and take what I’ve got coming.”

“Oh, please, sit down. What’s going on?” the principal asked.

“No, I can’t sit down. I shouldn’t even be in the building. Put me on administrative leave. I said something unacceptable in front of a classroom full of students. And what’s worse, they were listening.”

The pause lasted longer than usual. She stared at him, he stared at her. She sighed.

“You can’t be serious. You said something unacceptable two weeks ago too. And it was on a Thursday, just like today. And anyway, two science teachers are on administrative leave this week, and the basketball and wrestling teams are traveling tomorrow, so there are no substitutes left. We’re just going to have to ignore this one.”

“You can’t ignore it,” the teacher said. “I’m a danger to our youth. I’m a rip in the social fabric of the American dream. I’ve got to be silenced. I say things.”

“But I haven’t even received a parent complaint.”

“It doesn’t matter. You will. Sooner than you think. After all, I’m a teacher.”

The silence between them lasted another palpable minute while the secretary in the outer office grabbed her purse and fled. Finally the silence ended and the bargaining process began.

“OK,” the principal conceded. “I’ll admit that you are, if not dangerous, at least a little to the left of the center line. I can live with that. Really, I can.”

“But what are you going to do about it?” the teacher challenged. “You can’t just put me back in a classroom to go off half-cocked again. Oops. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that either.”

“Is that what you said to the class?”

“No, but it was just as bad.”

“Well, you didn’t show a movie about it, did you?”

“Actually, I don’t think anyone’s ever made a movie about it.”

“There’s something in that at least, which demonstrates a modicum of judgment on your part. It may be that I’m going to have to put a stern letter in your file, this time, and next time, who knows. Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.”

The teacher stared down at his shoes. No next time? But he needed a few days off next week to get caught up with his paperwork. After all, teaching students to write requires reading their writing, doesn’t it? And teaching students to think critically contains the risk that they may themselves harbor inappropriate thoughts. Then, like a tiny tsunami, the blood in his brain swelled until a new idea covered the surface of his tongue.

“Isn’t it inappropriate thoughts that ultimately lead to inappropriate words?” the teacher asked.

The principal considered her options. If she answered yes, she was sure to be short one more teacher before Friday even started. And she’d likely have to put herself on administrative leave for what she’d been thinking. If she said no, well, at least she’d be defending a democratic principle, one of those freedoms that social-studies teachers require their students to memorize. She decided to say no.

“No,” she replied.

“Do you mean to say that words can be initiated without thought?” The teacher smiled. His college philosophy class was finally paying off.

“Well, I don’t know. No, probably not.”

“Then I submit to you that for me to have said anything inappropriate, it must have been prompted by something equally inappropriate that the class was thinking.”

A tiny belt on one of logic’s pulleys had broken – she was certain she heard it snap, but the cell phone in her pocket was vibrating again, and she didn’t have time to search for the culprit.

“So…?”

“So, I’d like to request that all my students be placed on administrative leave until we can meet with their parents and determine where the inappropriateness originated.”

“All of your students?”

“Every last one of them.”

The phone on the desk started ringing.

“If I suspend the entire class, you’ll still be here tomorrow, in your classroom?”

“Agreed.”

“And it’s just that class where you said the inappropriate thing?”

“Absolutely.”

“OK, done. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

The teacher turned and headed out the door. His briefcase felt light as a box of Kleenex; a weight had been lifted. He felt like whistling the theme song from “Brokeback Mountain.”

“What did you say?” the principal called after him.

“Nothing,” the teacher replied, but really he’d been thinking about everything.

David Feela is a teacher at Montezuma-Cortez High School.

Published in David Feela

Garments, goods and gossip: Trading posts, once community centers, are disappearing

I parked my motorcycle on the broken pavement and gravel driveway and went to the front of Ismay Trading Post, with its peeling adobe façade and dust-glazed windows. As I pushed the door open the little dog bounded over the counter where he had been lying in the sun and jumped up on my legs.

TRADING POSTS“Don’t jump on me, pup,” I said, brushing at my pants. He’s a nice pup. He sniffed at the crack in the door.

“You want to go outside?” I asked, and opened the door. “Go sleep in the sun,” I said, as if anyone ever had to tell that dog to go sleep in the sun. I opened a Pepsi and strode over to the counter; Robert Ismay, the proprietor, was on the other side, smoking a cigarette. We generally talk about the weather, or peaches, in season.

“How’d you like the paper?” I asked. I’d left him a copy of the Free Press last time. He’d refused to sell them in Ismay Trading Post (“Navajos won’t buy ’em,” he’d said), but he took the free copy I offered.

“Oh, not much,” he said. We were both in a good humor. I laughed. The door opened and a Navajo girl came in.

“You have mail for my gramdma?” she asked in a voice so soft it was like the winter morning breeze stirring the willows along the creek bottom. Ismay reached behind him to a stack of envelopes on a shelf. He picked them up, riffled them expertly with his thumb, brought one out with two long fingers, and handed it to the girl; she turned wordlessly and went back out the door.

Trading posts have provided centers for communication in rural areas of Indian country almost since their inception. In times past you could leave a message or pick one up, obtain the latest community news, get a seed catalogue, order a bolt of cloth, buy or trade a horse, sell your wool, buy the best yarn, find a deal on a used saddle, learn the latest in rug prices or wool prices, buy a chimney for your kerosene lantern, or a wick, or a gallon of kerosene.

Trading posts often sold hay for livestock (some still do) and some kept livestock to sell or trade. There’s one story (it’s just a tale, mind you, and told long ago) of a Navajo who sold a cow to the trader, then stole it back that night and sold it to him again.

Ismay Trading Post lies near the Utah state line at the end of what in Montezuma County is called County Road G (the McElmo Canyon Road) and in Utah is Road 402. The Hatch Trading Post lies farther to the west, east of U.S. Highway 191 off Highway 262. It has a charming façade, fenced, with trumpet vines that grow across its face in the summertime.

I stopped there and spoke to Laura Hatch, the proprietor. I told her I was writing a story about trading posts. “I don’t know anything about trading posts,” she said.

I asked her when the Hatch Trading Post was founded. “I don’t know,” she said.

The next time I passed through Ismay, I told Robert about my encounter.

“She’s not too sociable sometimes,” he said. He paused. “She’s my sister, you know.”

“Maybe she didn’t like my beard or something,” I said. We laughed.

Both these trading posts exist for the purposes of trading with the Navajos. They don’t excite much tourist business and each exhibits a unique atmosphere. They serve as places where Navajos (Diné, actually) can purchase simple essentials. There’s a big orchard at Ismay and you can buy bags of sweet, juicy peaches in season for a dollar — in addition to cans of soda and candy bars at very reasonable prices.

Trading posts like Ismay, Hatch, and Oljato in the Monument Valley area are lonely places much of the year. In a world that values cookie-cutter franchise outlets and megamarts, trading posts are something of an anachronism. Slowly but steadily, they are disappearing across the West.

The modern era

The modern era of the trading post came about after the Navajo “Long Walk” to Bosque Redondo (Fort Sumner, N.M.), from 1864-68, when Kit Carson, acting on instructions from the U.S. government, rounded up all the Navajos he could find and marched them across New Mexico in the middle of winter. There they were kept in a kind of concentration camp for four years.

When the government admitted the experiment was a failure, the Navajos returned westward to their homeland; the Treaty of 1868 established the boundaries of the Navajo Nation. The government issued licenses to traders and by the 1870s a handful of them were operating on the Navajo reservation. By the turn of the 20th Century there were nearly 100 established trading posts on the Ute and Navajo reservations of the Four Corners.

A profusion of trading posts sprang up in the early decades of the 20th Century as well: at Shonto, Oljato, Monument Valley, Mexican Hat, Tuba City, Kayenta, and Cameron, along with many others throughout the Four Corners.

Trading posts were always built on water sites, so travelers attempting to traverse these great distances of wind and red sand could count on a refuge where they could re-supply and rest.

The traders have invariably been white men (and a few women) who pay a lease fee and sign away all ownership rights to buildings and equipment on the reservation. When the leases expire and are not renewed, the trader walks away, taking only his stock.

Over the years many small, independent traders have been bought out by larger consortiums. The Babbitt Brothers of Flagstaff, Ariz., owned a string of trading posts on the western portion of the Navajo Reservation in the 1950s, and remain a presence in the area.

After a bust in the uranium boom, Joe Nielson of Blanding, Utah, took his family to a place just north of modernday Tuba City, Ariz., called The Gap. According to his son, Vance Nielson, The Gap is still there, and is the first place Vance can remember. He was 4 years old. Few roads on the western Navajo reservation were paved; there were trading posts at Cow Springs, Shonto, Inscription House, Navajo Mountain, Gray Mountain, and Tuba City.

At that time the Babbitt Brothers were big in the trading-post business, he said. “They operated out of Flagstaff. My dad went to work for them at Cow Springs and then went to Old Oraibi, on the Hopi Reservation. I went to kindergarten there at the Mennonite Mission School.

“There were Hopi kids going to school there and they let me go, too. I remember playing with the Hopi boys; we’d go down to the wash. The Hopi were different than the Navajo: a different culture.

“I remember stomping wool,” he said. “They’d clean the wool and put it in bags, then they’d put that wool into big bags, maybe 10 feet tall, and they’d put me into one of those big bags and I’d have to stomp that wool.”

I asked him what the trading post was like at Old Oraibi. “Everything was behind the counter,” he said. “Everything was traded in those days. There was very little cash. People bought the things they needed in between the annual annuity and woolshearing, and when those came through people came in and settled their accounts. Of course, things like baskets and rugs we would take at any time. Accounts were all kept on the books.”

Pawn and language

Of course there was pawn.

“There has always been pawn,” Nielson continued. “Pawn is how Navajos get cash when they need it. All of the traders take pawn. Down through the years there has been very little state regulation on pawn. Traders could charge whatever the market would bear. Today some of the states regulate it. I think it’s regulated in Arizona. But in Utah traders can charge whatever interest rate they can get away with.”

You look through the glass cabinets and see the heavy silver-and-turquoise bracelets, each with a tag identifying the owner. Sometimes a trader goes out of business and winds up with a lot of unredeemed pawn. There was one guy in the 1990s, a young cowboy from Colorado, who opened the Painted Horn Trading Post in Bluff. He had a truckload of pawn that he said his uncle bought in Gallup for a nickel on the dollar. It was the old heavy silver and turquoise that you don’t see much of any more.

The old traders all spoke Navajo and many still do, but with the passing of each generation there are fewer and fewer Anglos who speak the language. The old traders learned it growing up on the reservation. Most trading posts have been replaced by the reservation version of the convenience store.

There is one of these modern places, a big Chevron station, at Burnside Junction at the corner of U.S. Highway 191, at the turnoff to Ganado. I bought a Pepsi there and I asked the checkout girl what “Bidahochi” meant. She asked the other lady behind the counter and she shook her head.

I stood underneath the porch awning sipping my Pepsi when the Navajo man who had been in line behind me came out; we stood for a moment, looking out at the skyline.

“When you come to the next junction you’ll see the red rock. It has a certain color.” He paused for another long moment. “Bidahochi means ‘beneath the red rock.’ You’ll know it when you see it.”

And sure enough I did. I’d never seen rock quite that color before. I passed the old abandoned Bidahochi Trading Post, once owned by Joe Nielson, and then up the gradual rise to Indian Wells, where there’s another little store with the Post Office inside and an asphaltprocessing plant above. I asked the lady in the store the same question.

“It’s that red rock out there,” she said, “below the red rock.” She pointed out the door with her lips and I saw another rock outcropping similar in color to the first one I’d seen down the road, a shocking red.

Images of John Wayne

The Gouldings, Harry and Leona “Mike” Goulding went to Monument Valley in the 1920s and fell in love with the quiet, colorful country. His family had pioneered one of the first big sheep operations in the San Juan Basin, near present-day Durango.

They started in Monument Valley with a tent and eventually established a successful trading operation and stayed there for nearly 40 years. They built their first trading post of Navajo sandstone against a cliff. The original trading post still stands, preserved as a museum, primarily of images of John Wayne and other celebrated Hollywood stars, who made the John Ford movie, “Stagecoach,” and seven others in Monument Valley.

Today Gouldings is one of the most successful businesses in the Four Corners; they run guided tours to the Navajo Nation Tribal Park in Monument Valley. You can have breakfast, lunch, or dinner in a dining room where the view is worth a million bucks. Just next to the dining room is the old trading post with its Hollywood memorabilia and photos of Harry and Mike Goulding from earlier days.

Echoes of the past

The Wetherills also came out of Southwest Colorado. They were cattle ranchers until one winter day when Richard Wetherill chanced upon the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde. For years after that, the Wetherills (Richard and his brother John) were almost entirely consumed with discovering and exploiting abandoned habitation sites of ancient Puebloans.

In 1906 John Wetherill first came to Oljato, Ariz., “Moonlight Water.” At first the Navajos, local leader Hoskinnini- Begay and his entourage, told Wetherill they did not want white men in their country, but Wetherill had flour, coffee and other trade goods with him. He touted the advantages of having a trading post in Oljato, pointing out the long distances they had to traverse to find trade goods. In the end they let him stay and the Oljato Trading Post operated until the dawn of the 21st Century. John Wetherill hauled goods 190 miles round-trip from Gallup, N.M.

A Navajo named Evelyn Jensen ran Oljato Trading Post during the 1990s. She now runs guided tours on horses. The store has a “closed” sign in front.

I stood on the porch at the store at Indian Wells, talking to a local man about the red rock, and a young Navajo boy walked by holding a cell phone to his ear. The man and I looked at each other and laughed. The 20th Century is gone. Navajos still carry their hand-woven rugs to trading posts to sell; they still raise sheep and sell the wool and cook the meat, but much is different.

One trading post, Hubbell, near Ganado, Ariz., has been preserved as a national historic site managed by the National Park Service. The remainder, however, face an uncertain future.

Trading posts can be found all over the Four Corners, but they are changing or disappearing. Whether these dusty stores, with their creaky wooden floors and glass cases, will survive the 21st Century is unknown. But, for now, you can still visit some of them, buy a cold soda and, if you’re lucky, hear some echoes of the past.

Published in March 2006

Canyons of the ancients? Retiree influx altering Four Corners’ demographics

They’re coming. Montezuma County is expecting about 3,000 new residents during the next few years, an increase of more than 10 percent in its population. Who are these newcomers?

One thing is certain: It won’t be the stork delivering these people. More than half of them will be over 50. Historically, Colorado has been a “young” state with a median age of 34.3 years (one year less than the national median). Montezuma County is a relatively mature community with a median age of 38 and rising.

Despite all the jokes about senior moments and cotton-tops behind the wheel, this shift in demographics will have significant impacts on local communities and economies. But those impacts often are more positive than people realize.

Who are they?

The major demographic trend driving population growth in Montezuma County is “amenity migration.” This term refers to the migration of people to Southwest Colorado because of amenities such as natural beauty and rural lifestyle. Some of these people are second-home owners, telecommuters, and/or retirees. This type of migration is usually considered desirable for local economies because these people bring money from outside the area and spend it locally.

Pat Kantor and her husband moved to the Dolores River Valley from Sedona, Ariz. They lived in Sedona for 20 years and watched it change from a small, unknown, rural community into a hip destination for travelers and New Age aficionados.

The reality of moving to a small town or rural area can prove quite a shock for some newcomers. Relative remoteness means traveling unimproved county roads and living without many urban amenities.

The Kantors witnessed that phenomenon, the paradox of amenity migration, in Sedona. Outsiders were drawn there by its natural beauty and rural lifestyle, but they didn’t want to give up the urban amenities they were used to. Now, Sedona has traffic congestion and urban sprawl.

Will a similar fate befall Southwest Colorado? That remains to be seen. Some old-timers already are aghast at the traffic in Cortez in the summer, not to mention Durango during tourist season.

The retiree influx also has sparked some concern about its effect on local schools. When newcomers are older, with their children already grown, will they be willing to pass school bonds for others’ kids? Will the changing demographics lead to a decline in enrollment that will cause school funding to shrink?

So far, that doesn’t seem to be a major problem. Of the total of 3,000 folks moving into the area by 2010, more than half will be under 50 as well, and many will have school-age children.

They have income

What is allowing so many retirees to move to the area is portable income. Social Security and retirement payments as well as savings can be collected anywhere. You don’t even need a post-office box, just an on-line bank and an ATM. Retirees aren’t limited by job opportunities or schools; they can live wherever they choose. And they are choosing to be near the amenities of Southwest Colorado.

The strategy for retirement in a small town is summed up by Nancy Schaufele: “Come with your own money and your own partner.” Schaufele and her husband moved to Montezuma County after visiting the area regularly for 20 years and saving up for their retirement.

Others, like Chuck and M.B. McAfee, moved back home after spending years raising their family in other parts of Colorado. The McAfees grew up in Montezuma County and “were drawn back by the landscape.”

Total personal income and the share of income from retirees in Montezuma County have been steadily increasing. Non-labor income has been the fastestgrowing part of personal income in Montezuma County for the past 30 years. In 2002, retirement benefits amounted to more than $128 million, comprising nearly one-quarter (23 percent) of total personal income in Montezuma County. This is up from $90 million and 16 percent just two years before.

Retirement income has helped to stabilize fluctuations in employment income and to raise per-capita personal income from $19,680 in 2000 to $23,572 in 2002.

How are newcomers spending all this income? New-home construction is certainly one place. However, most of these new houses are not second homes. Despite all the talk of snowbirds and part-time residents, a recent analysis by Region 9 found that Montezuma County has not experienced as much of a second-home boom as other parts of Colorado. Only 5 percent of all homes in Montezuma County were classified as “seasonal.” In neighboring La Plata County, 12 percent of houses are second homes.

This points to a phenomenon that may be called “value retirement.”

Montezuma County holds the scenic landscape and rural lifestyle that many retirees are seeking, at relatively affordable prices. In 2001, the median price for a home in Dolores, Mancos, or Cortez was about $100,000. In rural Montezuma County the median price was about $220,000. In comparison, the median price for a home in Durango in 2001 was about $240,000 and in rural La Plata County about $270,000.

All of the prices have increased significantly since 2001 — partly as a result of the influx of people seeking to buy land or homes in the Four Corners. Soaring home prices can be hard on locals and working-class folks.

But to a family that owns a home in California or on the Front Range of Colorado, housing in Montezuma County is still a bargain. Some of these families can sell their existing home, move to Montezuma County, build a new house on 35 acres and still have cash left over.

They use services

Anybody who uses the Cortez Recreation Center regularly has noticed that the morning and mid-day crowd is mostly retirement-age. These folks use the pool and the library. They have the income and voting power to affect the amount and types of services that will be offered in our community.

The new recreation center and libraries in Montezuma County show their potential impacts. Why after 10 years, did the Cortez recreation center finally get built? New income and demand for services from retirees certainly helped get the sales tax passed to fund the center.

One of the major concerns of an aging community is the availability of health services. In our market economy, the types of health services offered in a location are determined in part by whether the provider can make money on them. You might expect that an affluent, aging society would have excellent geriatric health services.

However, that is not always the case, because of Medicare. People aged 65 and older are automatically covered by Medicare, the federal program for senior-citizen health care. The payment schedule for Medicare generally covers only a portion of the “normal and expected” costs of a particular procedure or service. The remainder must be paid by the patient out-of-pocket or with supplemental insurance.

Medicare creates a situation where there is little incentive for providers to upgrade or add new services to meet the needs of patients who can pay only a minimal fee with Medicare. This trend could create a service gap in place like Montezuma County where retirees are relying solely on Medicare for health-insurance coverage.

They contribute

Like the rest of the United States, Montezuma County was populated through immigration. The first settlers came here to take advantage of the lush native grasses for livestock-grazing.

Subsequent waves of immigrants were drawn by employment opportunities in hard-rock mining and archaeology for the Dolores Project.

Immigrants bring with them ideas and information from outside. They have new ways of doing things. This wave is no different. Many retirees have extensive business and management experience. It may be difficult to accept their suggestions about how things need to change here, but many of them are willing to roll up their sleeves and make the changes happen.

Because these newcomers were drawn to the area because of its natural beauty and rural lifestyle, many hold a strong ethic to conserve and protect these values. The McAfees have one of the largest conservation easements in Montezuma County, which will protect their family’s land from development in perpetuity.

Kantor has been active in protecting the Dolores River Valley from uncontrolled development. She leads Citizens for Accountability and Responsibility (CFAR) and participated in the Dolores River Valley Planning Group.

Through churches, non-profit organizations, and clubs, people of all ages are working to make Montezuma County a better place to live. Retirees represent a pool of new talent; they have time and money to contribute.

They are us

If you haven’t looked in the mirror lately, you aren’t getting any younger.

By 2014, all of the Baby Boomers will be over 50. Just by staying in Montezuma County for the next five years, you will move into an older age group of the population.

Presently, there are more seniors in Montezuma County than ever before. It will be up to us to create the opportunities and services that our mature society will need to stay healthy and vibrant.

Published in March 2006

Is biodiesel really coming to Dove Creek?

Farmers are risk-takers. Each year they gamble big that the cost of input and production will be less than their crop earnings, providing a profit margin to sustain their families into the next growing season.

BIODIESEL DISCUSSIONIn dryland farming areas, the margin is pencil-thin; with every passing drought it diminishes further. So the prospect of doubling or even tripling gross per-acre incomes glints like a one-eyed jack in a poker game. But that prospect is exactly what promoters of growing oil-seed crops to produce biodiesel fuel outlined at a conference Feb. 23 in Arriola.

“If we let this thing go, we’re all gonna be sorry,” said farmer Doug Stowe, who encouraged other farmers to join in the biodiesel experiment.

Biodiesel is a clean-burning alternative fuel, produced from domestic, renewable resources. For various reasons it is usually mixed with fossil diesel to create “B20,” a mixture of 20 percent biodiesel and 80 percent fossil diesel that is sold at the gas pump.

Biodiesel is derived mostly from plant seeds that are pressed into oil and then sent through a process that transforms the oil into biodiesel. The process generates a few by-products, including seed hulls, seed meal and glycerin, all of which are non-toxic and have alternate uses.

The alternative fuel is generating excitement around the United States. In Southwest Colorado, the San Juan Biodiesel Cooperative — formed about a year ago — is gauging farmers’ interest in growing oil-seed crops that can be used to produce biodiesel.

“We completed our feasibility study in October and did some additional analysis, and the outlook is very encouraging,” said project manager Jeff Berman.

He said the benefits would be numerous. “By growing our own, locally made renewable fuel, we can help offset some imports of fossil fuels from unstable regions of the world. We would help improve national security by being less reliant on those imports. We would create 15 to 17 jobs directly and help support the local ag community by creating a more diversified crop rotation and a value-added local market.”

In addition, biodiesel is cleaner burning than regular diesel fuel.

The idea is nothing short of revolutionary. The completed project would comprise a locally owned and operated fuel-producing facility along with a oil-extrusion facility, and selling the competitively priced biodiesel fuel to local fleets.

The co-op’s feasibility study determined that economies of scale exist to support this venture. Members have targeted a site in the Dove Creek Industrial Park for the construction of the plant. The plant would process between 2.5 and 3 million gallons of biodiesel each year from oil-seed crops produced by farmers within a 100- to 200-mile radius.

According to Berman, a comprehensive study in 1998 found that biodiesel has an energy balance of 3.2, meaning producers get 3.2 units of energy out of biodiesel crops for every 1 unit put in. That’s compared to 1.3 or 1.4 at the most for ethanol.

“We hope, with the plant we’re looking at, to achieve a much better energy balance by having a number of efficiencies built in,” Berman said. “We plan on dehulling sunflower seeds and using those hulls in a biomass-based boiler unit that would create the steam we need for our process, rather than relying on natural gas.”

At the Feb. 23 biodiesel conference, presenters went into detail about the project and its implications for farmers. The presenters included Berman; Denise McWilliams, agronomist with the New Mexico State University Cooperative Extension; Jay Allen, Dove Creek farmer; and Mark Stack, manager of the Southwest Colorado Research Center in Yellow Jacket.

A motley crew of farmers, agricultural researchers, and representatives for U.S. Sen. Ken Salazar and U.S. Rep. John Salazar attended. To make a realistic projection for profits from oil-seed crops, one has to examine cost of production and market opportunities.

Dove Creek’s Allen did that in a 2005 trial of sunflowers on 84 acres of non-irrigated cropland. Allen trailed three varieties of sunflower in 2005, with an average total cost per acre of around $53. He also had a one-time cost of $669 to modify some seeding and harvesting equipment.

Yields averaged 1,280 pounds per acre, with a minimum of 1,071 and a maximum of 1,401. With a projected purchase price at 11 cents per pound, Allen’s harvest would net him on average a profit of $88 per acre.

Not bad considering that gross incomes on wheat and beans average around $50 per acre or less. Plus, as Allen says, “They’re a lot of fun to grow, and they’re real pretty to grow.”

Without getting too technical, producers should know that a lot of research has been done locally and in other parts of the United States regarding oil-seed crops. Stack presented findings of 2005 trials performed at the Southwest Colorado Research Center, all of which point to the viability of various oil-seed crops both from production and marketing standpoints.

McWilliams presented detailed specifications for oil-seed crops, with emphasis on canola and sunflower. These are the top two producers of oil per acre, and both are suitable for dryland and irrigated production on the Colorado Plateau.

McWilliams claims biodiesel is “good for rural economics, good for the environment, and good for engines and equipment.” In winter, biodiesel helps prevent condensation from forming in gas tanks, even in the freezing cold of North Dakota.

She cautioned that for producers, of course, “input costs make or break the end result,” and that growers here have to factor in the cost of water over and above traditional inputs to agriculture. “It’s a short season, but an intense season,” she said, but “biofuels have potential in the Four Corners region.”

While production of oil-seed crops may bring local ag producers into the 21st Century in terms of income, the more radical prospect comes with the proposed structuring of the processing plant’s ownership and management.

The current nine-member board of the San Juan Biodiesel Co-op consists of producers, diesel-fleet owners, and community members. The members have a business outline for 2006 that charges them with raising capital, developing a prospectus, and creating a type of cooperative membership structure. The co-op is set to sunset at the end of this year.

Berman said they want to avoid the venture-capital model because “we want to have this production facility locally owned for the benefit of the community.”

Even at maximum production capacity, the proposed facility will produce a literal drop in the bucket of the 56 billion gallons of diesel fuel consumed in the United States each year, half of which comes from foreign sources. But closing the loop between local production and local consumption creates a tremendous advantage for a region historically neglected by politicians and struggling for economic prosperity.

The actual structure of the ownership and management entity remains to be decided. Options may include a formal incorporated cooperative, or a corporation with real participation by the producers in the decision-making process. Regardless, it will likely include a shareholder model with representation of and control by shareholders, ag community members, and biodiesel consumers. The current board of the co-op will spend the next six months on research and recommendations to develop this model.

The project won’t come cheap. Berman estimates $7 million to $8 million for construction, plus additional funds to continue planning. But the coop has already received a commitment of support from a variety of sources including La Plata, San Miguel, and Dolores counties.

The town of Dove Creek recently chipped in $5,000 toward the effort. Town-board member Arlen Bock commented, “We need to show that the town is committed to this thing,” according to the Dove Creek Press.

Noticeably absent so far is Montezuma County, though Berman noted that the commissioners have asked for more information.

One piece of the puzzle will come with the completion of crop surveys recently sent into the community of ag producers. Working with the CSU extension offices, Berman said, the coop has mailed about 1,000 letters to farmers along with a survey asking how much acreage they are willing to use to grow seed crops for a certain price this year and in years to come.

“The big question now is not theoretical, it’s reality,” Berman said. “Now its up to the ag community to step up and say ‘we want to make this happen’ and let us know how many acres out there they want to put into production. “Without sufficient interest here, there’s no point in doing (this).”

The co-op wants to be able to contract out for one-quarter of the estimated acreage needed for full production. This equates to roughly 7,000 dry-farmed acres and 3,000 irrigated acres in the 2006 season. Rep. Salazar and his brother, Sen. Salazar, have both expressed an interest in the project.

The West has always been fueled by independent spirit and wild ideas. The biodiesel idea carries on this tradition. In the words of farmer Stowe, “Farmers are hard-headed, or we wouldn’t be farmers, but I suggest that we support this in any way we can.”

For more information on the San Juan Biodiesel Cooperative, or to get a survey, contact Greg Vlaming, board chair, 970-247-4355, or Jeff Berman, project manager, 970- 946-3967.

Gail Binkly contributed to this article.

Published in March 2006

Famed “El Camino Real” celebrated

Dawn breaks over San Gabriel in the Española Valley, north of where Santa Fe will grow. Several men walk a path. They carry beads, pottery, and turkeyfeather blankets, items they’ve brought from their homes at San Juan Pueblo. Others come from traders to the north, in what will one day be The Four Corners.

The men hope to trade the goods with neighbors. No one has a horse. But in San Gabriel, some strange people do. They also have “sheep”’ “goats” and “cattle.” These people have come up the footpath from some place south. Their carts shriek as wooden wheels grind against wooden axles. People can hear the caravans long before the carts themselves appear.

The men who drive them call the trail “El Camino Real de Tierra Adento.” For them, this “Royal Road of the Interior Land” is new, and starts in a town called “Mexico City.”

EL CAMINO REALThe San Juan Pueblo traders snicker. New! Their ancestors’ ancestors used this trail, long before anybody heard of the newcomers, who jabber in a language like no other.

Oh, they’ve made the road smoother, and easier to walk. Some pueblos have started raising sheep, but still, what good can come of these strangers? Some are nice, but others are cruel.

Reel forward 500 years, to an office in Santa Fe, now a city of 60,000. A man in a suit sits in a chair in front of a tape recorder, talking to a reporter. “The history of El Camino Real is the history of New Mexico,” says Jose Cisneros, director of the New Mexico State Monuments Division of the Museum of New Mexico.

“We still have traces of it,” he grins. “The new Camino is I-25, the highway that parallels (the trail).” He points out that I-25 supports much of the current commerce between Mexico and the United States.

But the history of El Camino Real is more than the history of New Mexico. It’s the history of the American Southwest, both before and after Spanish arrival. From the Camino, Native American traders carried macaw feathers to places like Aztec and Salmon ruins. From the Camino, Conquistadors fanned into the Four Corners, bringing sheep and goats; and introducing new materials, such as silver and wool, to Navajo craftspeople.

Settlers came up the Camino. Some landed in the San Luis Valley of modern Colorado. From there, they drifted south again, into what would become Durango, and Farmington, and Aztec.

To honor the royal road, the New Mexico Monuments Division has opened the El Camino Real International Heritage Center, between Truth or Consequences and Soccoro.

“You might call the center a modernday ‘paraje’,” muses Cisneros, using the Spanish word for the ancient rest stops along the trail.

The 20,000-square-foot building houses a permanent exhibit on trail history. Traveling exhibits will come, too. So will visiting scholars.

Visitors can use Camino Real International Heritage Center to get a “course in New Mexico and Southwest history as complete as one will find on most college campuses,” Cisneros says. Though the Camino begins in Mexico, the International Heritage Center focuses primarily on the portion from El Paso to San Juan Pueblo. That 400 miles has been designated a National Historic Trail.

Individual towns along the road, like Las Cruces, Soccoro, Belin, and Espanola, are developing their own centers that celebrate the highway. “The National Hispanic Heritage Center in Albuquerque is the big one,” says Cisneros.

In addition, Cisneros and his staff have been working with Spain and Mexico to bring those countries’ stories of the Camino to the United States. As part of that project, Cisneros hopes to learn more about archaeological sites along the Mexican portion of the road. In New Mexico, archaeological sites such as forts, wagon ruts, and churches have already taught much about the Camino. “It was a bumpy road,” Cisneros chuckles. “The people who used it took their life in their hands.”

To reach Santa Fe, and San Gabriel from Mexico City, or to find trails leading north, travelers faced bandits, and a long stretch in southern New Mexico called “El Jornada del Muerte.” This “Journey of Death” led travelers through a desert without water or shade. The rough terrain made the trip as hard as the journey pioneers made on the Oregon Trail.

But the trip was worth the danger. Trade caravans brought exotic goods: copper, leather, tobacco, fruit trees, and turquoise. Silver from the mines of northern Mexico made Spain the richest country in the world.

“We have heard about the western expansion and the pilgrims landing on Plymouth Rock,” says Cisneros. “But people forget that exploration had been coming in from Mexico City (since 1598 when Don Juan de Onate claimed the New Mexico Territory for Spain. That’s) way before Plymouth Rock.”

But the exploration probably goes back further — maybe to antiquity, when the first pueblo travelers created the path that became El Camino. The El Camino Real International Heritage Center will tell their story, and the stories of all the people who have traveled and still travel the great road.

El Camino Real International Heritage Center is off I-25 at Exit 115. After getting off the interstate, go south 1.5 miles from the east side of Highway 1 to the back of the Interstate Rest Stop at Mile Marker 24. There, turn east (left) onto County Road 1598, which leads to the center.

Published in Arts & Entertainment, March 2006

Laughing till we hurt

Audiences have certain expectations of stand-up comedians — mainly, that they will make us laugh, probably by appealing to the lowest common denominator governing our collective funny bone. We don’t expect comics to strike a blow for social justice and if we don’t find something funny, we don’t have to laugh.

All of which is why I was surprised to have an epiphany during a comic’s act clear back in 1998. The comic was one of three acts at the Chelsea’s restaurant comedy night. He began making fun of Sally Struthers, a fat actress who was appearing on television to encourage American support of starving Third World children. Fat woman. Starving children. Take a wild guess what his punch line was. Hahaha. Hoo-boy! Hahaha, I said, fully conscious of my body, thinking, Well, it is funny, isn’t it? Mustn’t be seen as one who can’t laugh at myself. Ha — hey, wait. Nobody else is laughing. . .

Nobody else was laughing. The mostly thin audience was booing, and the comic quickly changed his routine. The next comic started out praising the beauty of fat chicks (and he hit on me after the show).

So, by the time I saw Willie Barcena at Harrah’s in Las Vegas on Jan. 1 of this year, I’d steeled myself against the inevitable round of fat jokes in his repertoire. It was simple, really. As the 1998 audience taught me, fat jokes aren’t funny.

What they are is lazy. A good comic is funny because he’s clever, not because he can hurl insults like an over-tall kindergartener. Furthermore, fat jokes are trite, trite, trite. From the no-name comic in 1998, to Barcena this New Year’s Day, everyone has exhausted every conceivable punch line that can possibly be associated with someone’s waistline.

Any doubts as to that can be put to rest by simply typing “fat jokes” into an Internet search engine. The majority of what one will find are “yo’ momma is so fat that. . .” jokes, which are such a poor example of witty repartee that it’s hard to get riled.

One inspired individual suggests men use the jokes to hit on women because “if you can make her laugh, she’ll be attracted to you.” He urges caution in telling the jokes to fat women, but apparently believes thin women will find these juvenile one-liners hilarious and leap right into bed.

In other comedy news, two British comics got into a tiff over a fat joke — not because it was bigoted, but because one says the other stole it from him. Here is the allegedly purloined hooter: A fat woman told Comic 1 that she thought he was “a fattist,” and he replied with: “I think you’re the fattest.” Yup. Totally worth stealing! My swollen gut simply aches for laughing!

What other comedians have to say about fat jokes, though, is heartening. Of the tellers: “hacks,” even “pure evil,” according to Dave Martin, who in 2000 told Eye Weekly he thinks laughter at such jokes is a conditioned response: “It feels like I am at the Nuremberg rally and everyone is sieg heil-ing in the form of laughs.” Said comedienne Sarah Silverman: “For me, unless it’s so funny (a joke about fat women). . . those are the ones that make my heart sink.”

Rabbi Bob Alper, a comic working in 1998, was noted in the Detroit Free Press for his sensitivity. “Alper has gone so far with his principle of avoiding offensive material that he even decided to drop fat jokes from his act.”

Even decided to drop fat jokes. Did you catch that? What would be considered basic respect to any other group is seen as an enormous concession when it comes to fat people.

This is the real problem: Fat jokes are a form of bigotry. Perhaps all comics should be compelled to run their fat jokes through a basic test, by inserting “black,” “Jew” or the slang equivalents every time they want to complain about fat, fatties and lard asses. Puts a different wrinkle on the old fat joke, no?

But, one might argue, a fat joke is not the same as a racist joke! After all, fat people can do something about their condition — I know this is true, for Weight Watchers and the CDC have told me so!

I won’t delve into the lies and manipulation perpetrated by Big Diet and the guv’mint. This is what comics need to understand: Racist jokes are predicated on the notion that there is something intrinsically blameworthy, repulsive and/or inherently funny about Race X. Such jokes are not about whether a person can “do something” about being Race X, but about mocking Race X for its perceived wrongness. In other words, racist jokes are exactly like fat jokes.

The difference is, the people who stood up against racism, be it in the form of “harmless” jokes or crossburning, were eventually given credence, and things changed for the better. Fat people who complain about fat jokes are lumped into the “boo-hoo-everyone-ispicking- on-me” crowd and reviled all the more.

Thing about fat people is, we’re not demanding that everyone love and embrace us and shout: “Fat is beautiful!” We get plenty of love from people who are advanced enough to see us as human beings, and we don’t need the adulation of the masses.

But we are within our rights to demand that mass culture treat us equally, and we’ve certainly got the right to object to public mockery by comedians too lazy to find a different schtick. We might give ‘em a salute. But it won’t be a sieg heil.

Katharhynn Heidelberg writes from Montrose.

Published in Katharhynn Heidelberg

The puzzling phenomenon of rudeness

“Rudeness is the weak man’s imitation of strength” — Eric Hoffer

What causes a person to be rude to another? What would make someone want to say something mean? Is it, as Mr. Hoffer says, related to weakness or the catchall “low self-esteem”? Or is it way more shallow than that; is one person nasty to another simply because it’s fun?

I think there are some folks who are essentially good-hearted but for one reason or another have the tendency to say exactly what they think – without thinking. These individuals seem to do this to anyone available so it’s not fair to take their comments personally.

Then there are those who are much more selective about who gets the full brunt of their snide-ness. These are the ones who can be pleasant when they want to, so you know their rudeness is a choice and you are a chosen one.

My focus is on the second group, because, honestly, we’ve probably all spent time in the first.

Now, I have just as much ability to be catty as the next person, but I do attempt to not always say what I’m thinking aloud. “God, that haircut is horrible”, “By the way, I hate your kids”, “Do you know that your husband is a putz?” Really, what good would it do to say this to a person in the middle of City Market? Is it going to make anyone happier? Doubtful.

I will admit that I may think someone’s husband is a loser while he’s standing right in front of me, but I wouldn’t say anything until I’m in the car, alone, having my own imaginary conversation.

Unfortunately, not everyone shares this philosophy.

There are a few folks around here who could seriously benefit from some quality time with Emily Post. For example, in the past few years, I have been told that I am a sell-out for the way that I dress my son, I am a mother without boundaries for letting Bowen sport a Mohawk, my hair is bad, my shoes are ridiculous and my husband is a dirt bag (all things I already know, thank you very much). Also, I need to read different (translation: better) books on parenting, lower the price on my house, and rethink who I was dating over 10 years ago. Often these observations preempt “hello.”

Why is it that certain people think that their purpose on this earth is to point out all my faults whenever they see me? Granted, there are certain things about me that scream “Ridicule me!” (my hair, my clothes, my butt, my kids, my husband and my housekeeping skills); and if I really minded I would remain a bit more understated, but still…

It doesn’t bother me. I could care less if you like my bald head. What does irk me is the attempt to get under my skin.

I don’t know that I am stronger than the next person. I often think I am a total wimp and that I let people walk all over me. It’s not that I’m kind out of super self-confidence. Seems to me like it takes a lot more gumption to be disrespectful. It’s easier to just be nice. Mostly, I can’t imagine intentionally ruining someone else’s day. Life is hard enough as is.

Recently, my girlfriends and I were overanalyzing this subject and we all agreed that true friends are obligated to let you know when you are being a dork. But close friends are different than the casual acquaintance; they have earned the right to judge and criticize.

Plus, a good friend will also not hesitate to say something nice. For example, “Hi, Suz, you are such a good writer. Really. But what the hell were you thinking dyeing your hair platinum?”

Friends also expect you to be brutally honest with them so that you get your opportunity to dish it out. Plus, a friend will likely say “hello” before starting in on you.

Am I doing this all wrong? Would I have more fun in life if I said what I think to everyone around me? “Your kids are weird.” “Nice nose zit.” “P.S. Your hips are too big for that dress.”

My guess is that the fun would wear off quickly. I am not the nicest person I know, but I try not to be the meanest either. Perhaps I should quit trying and join the ranks of the ridiculously rude, speaking my mind to everyone I see.

Others seem to enjoy it, so maybe I will too.

Beware — next time you see me, you’d better be perfect. Or else.

Suzanne Strazza writes from Mancos.

Published in Suzanne Strazza

Higher education

Every professional sport and every athlete suffers the indignity of being under suspicion for using performance- enhancing drugs, whether they use them or not. I’ve got no problem with that. Professional athletes make serious money, enough for the entire pro-athlete union to put up with the inconvenience of being tested. What bugs me is they actually have these drugs available, that drug laboratories spend good money developing drugs so dumbbells can be lifted off the floor, the mile can be run in record time, a baseball keeps getting blasted out of the park, or basketball players don’t dribble on their shoelaces.

As if games weren’t enough, the pharmaceutical industry also decided to declare sexual dysfunction a major health issue. After years of laboratory research it now produces $2.5 billion worth of drugs designed to enhance man’s locker-room reputation. Congratulations on a major breakthrough, scientists of America. I hope you can keep it up.

For the classroom, however, little progress has been made in finding the right combination of chemicals to produce an energized teacher and student population, a climate where everyone wants to learn and refuses to take its education lying down – that is, unless it’s kindergarten nap time.

I can envision a future where athletes won’t get all the glory, where teachers will be able to confidentially purchase enough pills to last a semester, pills guaranteed to reduce correction fatigue, transform frustration into creative energy, and make standing before a class full of students an experience as rewarding as playing in the World Series before a packed stadium.

Let’s imagine it’s the first class of the morning. A teacher having swallowed a couple tablets of, let’s call it Instructa, suddenly feels indestructible. He totes bags full of notebooks back to school from a grading all-nighter. Better yet, let’s give him a shopping cart on loan from a local retail store. Held between his teeth flutters a single sheet of paper: a new lesson plan, one that occurred to him at 4 in the morning.

As the students wander into the classroom with their usual lack of eye contact, they sense that something is different; they can’t help glancing toward the teacher, wondering why the air around him feels supercharged. When the tardy bell rings the teacher snatches a wandering student out of the hallway from near his doorway and points her toward an empty seat. She’s not even assigned to this class, but already she feels like she belongs. The hands on the clock move too quickly. He talks to his students, not at them, and he shows them how to spark ideas they’ve never encountered before. As the class period ends students ask if they can stay longer, skip the next hour, but he ushers them out the door, assuring them that things will be better, everywhere, now that teachers have what it takes.

In his pocket he fiddles with a bottle of pills. His students having exited, he takes out a couple more tablets, pops them into his mouth. “Education,” he can’t help saying aloud, “has never been like this.”

The warning on the side of the bottle is explicit: In the event that lecturing continues for over two hours, seek medical help. But he doesn’t lecture. And again, he says this out loud: “Parents lecture, teachers instruct. There’s a difference, you know.” Meanwhile, in the hallway a few students have gathered by a water fountain.

One of them pulls pills from a pocket, the same pills the teacher has been taking. He got them by sneaking into his mother’s dresser drawer; she’s another teacher in the district. They each swallow a tablet, bang their knuckles together, and head to class before the tardy bell rings. For a full week no one has ignored his homework, forgotten his pencil or textbook, or picked up the wrong notebook. In class they’re surprised by an uncanny ability to stay focused, participate, listen, practice, and learn. Their grades improve steadily – almost dramatically – since the one boy decided to experiment with performance- enhancing drugs.

I know it’s probably wrong to even think these thoughts – to suggest that it may take something more than mere lip service to the ideals of dedication, discipline, and hard work to get above that plateau where our performance is at best patently proficient. Readers might start complaining that I’m putting ideas into our children’s minds. I just hope they’re right.

David Feela is a teacher at Montezuma-Cortez High School.

Published in David Feela

Mancos seeks solutions to crime wave

If you want to do something illegal, do it in Mancos. There’s no law enforcement here.

That’s been the word on the street this winter, prompted by some staffing glitches in the Mancos Marshal’s Office.

But Deputy Marshal Sam Sparks and Montezuma County Sheriff Gerald Wallace want folks to know that the word on the street is false.

“We are working hard to establish a strong presence in the Mancos Valley,” said Wallace, whose office is helping with law enforcement in Mancos while the search is on for a new marshal.

But it’s true that Mancos has seen something of a crime wave in recent months. There have been several break-ins, both at businesses and private residences. Some of the places burglarized have been the Absolute Bakery, Zuma Natural Foods, Cox Conoco, Ted’s Taco Stand, Coldwell Banker, Four Corners Cabinetry, the Masonic Lodge and the elementary school. In addition to stealing money, burglars have taken computers, cash registers and other electronic items.

At press time, it was reported that several arrests had been made in the break-ins.

Many of the break-ins took place in the period before the holidays, making for a less-than-merry Christmas for some business owners.

The rash of thefts also caused an extremely hectic time for the Mancos Marshal’s Office, which at the time had just one deputy — Sparks. Sparks has been on his own in that office while a search is being conducted for a new marshal.

But Sparks responded “right away” to each of the break-ins, said Carla Borelli, owner of the Absolute Bakery.

Another problem with law enforcement in the town has been that Sparks took a medical leave immediately after Christmas. Greg Morrison, an interim marshal filled in while Sparks was out of commission.

Now, Sparks is back, Morrison is here, and Sparks has also enlisted the help of the sheriff’s office, which has signed a contract to help out the town while the search is being conducted for a permanent marshal.

But the break-ins had to do with more than just a lack of police presence, experts say.

According to Wallace, Sparks, and Sheriff’s Lt. Steve Harmon, who has been working on the cases, the crime spree all goes back to drugs, primarily the stimulant methamphetamine.

“My call load would probably be reduced by 80 to 90 percent if we got rid of meth in this area,” Sparks said.

That’s a strong statement in a place where there is still an element of denial concerning the proliferation of the drug.

Last fall, concerned citizens within the community gathered to discuss the problem, but only a handful of community members actually participated in the meetings. Poorly represented were parents of school-age kids.

While the group worked hard to come up with a plan of action on its own, it also pursued the possibility of Mancos joining the 22nd Judicial District Drug Task Force operating in the county. Eventually the town did join the task force, at a price of $1,000 a month.

“If it makes the citizens of this community feel safer, then we are willing to sign on,” said Town Administrator Tom Glover.

According to Dennis Spruell, an agent with the drug task force, the force is actively working in Mancos, attempting to help with the meth problem.

Spruell attended a Meth Action Committee meeting on Jan. 23 and stated, “Do you have a meth problem here in Mancos? Absolutely . Huge!” And according to law-enforcement personnel, meth lies at the root of most of the crime here and anywhere else that the drug is widely available. Besides burglaries, Harmon said other crimes often related to meth use are “homicides, assaults, auto thefts, just about anything.”

Also attending the Meth Action Committee meeting were Don Kirk of the Piñón Project, Mancos School Superintendent Michael Canzona, Rebecca Larson and Layla Parga from the School Community Youth Coalition, and several community members whose lives have been affected by meth. Many of these folks live near a “meth house” and feel that they are in danger. But again, few parents of school-age children were at the meeting.

The consensus is that one of the main solutions to the problem is education and awareness. If folks look at the break-ins and vandalism as just that, then the drug problem is being overlooked.

Borelli, though, recognizes that her bakery was affected by drugs, not just random burglaries. She has a compassionate view of the situation. After having hundreds of dollars in cash, plus computers and electronics, stolen, she still shows heart.

“These people are suffering,” she said. “We were inconvenienced by being broken into, but their lives are miserable – it is a horrible drug and it makes people suffer. My heart goes out to them.”

Slightly less sympathetic is Megan Tallmadge, one of the owners of Zuma Natural Foods, which was hit the day before the bakery, on Dec. 21. “If someone had broken in to get money to feed their family, that would be one thing, but they came here to supplement their addiction,” she said.

But she remains upbeat. “I hope that we are not going to turn into a fearful, blaming community,” Tallmadge said. “Maybe these events will actually bring people together to look out for each other.”

The town, meanwhile, is working hard to hire a marshal. According to Glover, “We are hopeful that we will find someone who really wants the best for this town. We have about 15 applicants to interview and will be conducting those interviews in the near future.”

Although the town is participating in the drug task force, citizens must not become complacent, according to Sparks. “The citizens cannot just turn this over to the DTF,” he said. “There are three officers covering both Montezuma and Dolores counties. People must continue to stay active and participate in groups like the Meth Action Committee and the Neighborhood Watch Program.”

The committee is trying to move forward with plans, one of which may be to join forces with the town’s Public Safety Committee. Another is to increase education and awareness in the area; this includes professionals, parents, kids, and everyone else.

Sparks is pushing to have a school resource officer working within the schools. He believes that a large part of the solution lies in prosecution and “severe sentencing” for those arrested for crimes involving drugs.

Wallace agrees. “We are attempting to do everything exactly by the book to increase our chances of prosecution,” he said.

Sparks added, “This problem will be ongoing until the environment gets so bad for dealers that they have to leave.”

Many people would like to see Mancos return to being a sleepy little town, a haven from the perils of the outside world. With a great effort on many people’s part, perhaps that wish will come true.

Published in February 2006

Gambling with the future: How far should a town go for financial gain?

She sits looking right at you — full frontal nudity. The only thing she’s wearing is a tiny pendant around her neck. Her hands are flat on the white floor, fingertips pointed away from her thighs. Her legs are artfully crossed at the ankles, toes pointed toward you; her lovely knees hide her breasts. Nothing is revealed, yet everything is exposed. She is not smiling, she is merely looking at you.

It’s dime ante. We’re playing the Bluff Game. I won’t tell you how to play the Bluff Game. You have to play with someone who knows in order to learn the Bluff Game. One of the guys said he taught it to some folks in Carbondale, Ill., so I guess they’re playing it there now.

We arrange our nickels and dimes on, near, around the girl and her flawless two-dimensional body. One time I put nickels over her eyes. Another time I put a dime on her toes, or just below her toes because I thought maybe her toes would bring me luck. I put a dime on her knee. Nothing worked, but she is still nice to look at.

Here in this little hamlet, on a night cold with winter frost, we play poker for fun, just as millions of other people do, around a kitchen table. We drink a little, we trade rumors, we talk about our latest trips to Mexico or Padre Island, we smoke, we play poker. We have been playing these small around-the-kitchen-table games for a long time. But now. . .

The poker craze is everywhere: on TV, on the Internet, in cellars, sports clubs, bars, churches and casinos. “National poker craze drawing attention of law enforcement” read a Jan. 18 headline in USA Today.

But one place where gambling is not experiencing a boom is Utah. So it seems peculiar that the town of Bluff recently found itself facing the dilemma of whether to rename itself “Pokershare.com” in order to gain $100,000.

Dead man’s hand

There’s a mystique about gambling in the West, this wild, lawless, and colorful place, “out there” to back- Easterners, fueled by dime novelists and yellow journalists.

James Butler (Wild Bill) Hickok was shot dead in Sweeney’s Silver Dollar Saloon in Deadwood, S.D., on Aug. 2, 1876. According to “The Legend of Wild Bill Hockok” by Loren D. Estleman, he was holding aces and eights, with a queen of hearts for a kicker — forever after “The Dead Man’s Hand.”

Plenty of people in Deadwood said Hickok was just about done before Jack McCall shot him in the back of the head. He wasn’t steady enough to hold any kind of job — he couldn’t even stay on with Bill Cody’s Wild West Show, he was so drunk. They wouldn’t hire him in law enforcement any more because he sometimes killed the wrong people. And his poker game was unsteady.

Novelists and late 19th-Century newspapers loved to paint the portrait of the Western gambler, guns slung low, with his sharp blue eyes, his haughty demeanor, his cruel cunning, his incredible courage as the fire blazed from the ends of his Colt .45s. Hickok never carried a .45, but it was a .45 that McCall used to splatter Wild Bill’s brains all over the poker table and ruin a perfectly good deck of cards, along with the table. It did make good copy, though.

But I digress. Wild Bill died gambling, and once again gambling and its mystique have become popular and important — like riding Harleys.

No gambling in Utah

Gambling is not permitted in Utah. Gambling has been systematically forbidden in the Beehive State from the beginning of the Mormons’ arrival. For the longest time plural marriage was allowed, but not gambling, and now even plural marriage is (almost) extinct. There has never been any legalized gambling in Utah, and likely never will be. Unless you enjoy an abundance of outrageous scenery, Utah is not really a “fun” state.

But back in the day, Bluff was a pretty rowdy place, and people drank publicly and played cards privately, but openly. There’s no more public drinking in Bluff — the Mormons don’t like it. And since there aren’t any bars to play poker in; when people play, they play in their homes.

People do get compulsive about gambling, I guess, but not the kind of people I play with. Bluff doesn’t have any reputation as a gambling mecca. There are a few games around — quiet, private affairs — but I’ve always played the same game with approximately the same guys — mostly boatmen; guys who hunt, fish, travel, like blues music, jazz and salsa.

The modern gambling era

Three things, all of which began before the turn of the 21st Century, played important roles in the increase in gambling’s popularity: Reservation (and off-reservation) casino gambling, TV gambling, and the Internet.

Politicians in some states saw gambling as a way to increase their coffers. The state-run Colorado Lottery was approved in the 1980s, ostensibly for the sole purpose of improving public projects such as Colorado state parks and recreation, and met with such wild success that the state approved offreservation casino gambling (but only in three communities) in the 1990s.

Most of the casino gambling is done on slot machines, those loud, flashy monstrosities designed with the latest technology to methodically steal your money — and they do so with startling regularity. There are casinos on two nearby Ute Indian reservations, in Ignacio and Towoac, and the Navajos are now planning to allow casino gambling.

In addition to slot machines, most casinos also have poker tables. They have helped fuel the game’s rising popularity.

What’s in a name?

Still, Patrick McDermott, chair of the Bluff Service District Council, was surprised when reporter Keith McCord of KSL-TV in Salt Lake City called and asked an odd question: “Are you aware that someone has posted a $100,000 reward on the Internet to the town of Bluff if you will change your name to Pokershare.com?”

“I thought he was joking, and I said, no I was not aware of that,” McDermott recalled.

“Anyway, I kind of didn’t believe it, but he said, ‘Yeah, this guy said if anybody knows who to contact in the town of Bluff, this company wants to talk to you…’”

Pokershare.com was an Internet gaming site based in London. Pokershare hired Darren Shuster, a Los Angelesbased public relations firm, to promote the site in the United States. The firm made the same offer to Bluff, Pa., and a few other places named Bluff.

According to the Pittsburgh Post- Gazette: “It’s a publicity stunt. But that doesn’t mean Mr. Shuster and Pokershare.com aren’t serious. They have the money — poker Web sites are all the rage — and they’re willing to spend it to put their name on the map.”

“Even if no town takes the offer, the publicity generated might already be worth $100,000 to the Internet site,” author Dan Majors continued in the article.

Pokershare.com managed to get articles in the Deseret News and the Salt Lake Tribune in addition to the story on KSL-TV.

Bluff, Utah, is technically not a town. It once was incorporated — called Bluff City, in fact — but locals decided they didn’t want all of that responsibility (town marshal, mayor, streets, curbs and gutters, sewer system, accountability to the State of Utah) so they voted it out. The Navajos called the place Lasiddy, and still do. Present-day Bluff is merely unincorporated San Juan County, Utah.

The only legal status it has is as a special district, with limited powers and responsibilities (recreation, water, and wastewater). The district is responsible to San Juan County and has a board of directors. McDermott was the elected chair of that board at the time of the offer.

McDermott said he didn’t reject Pokershare’s offer outright but certainly didn’t say yes.

“I never told them we’ll do it,” McDermott said. “I was looking for some way to put a spin on it, maybe get a few laughs out of it, maybe something more.”

“What do we have to do?” McDermott responded to the initial queries. “And the guy told me: ‘There aren’t any hard and fast rules; all we want you to do is change your name. It has to be a real name change; you have to change the signs and everything.’ “I started thinking about it,” McDermott continued, “and I thought, ‘this has to be a hoax,’ but I went along with it just to see.”

Stories appeared in the Utah media, and McDermott sent e-mails informing Bluff residents of the offer. The responses he got were very different.

Outraged pioneer descendants

Some responses were humorous. Said Nate Sosa in an e-mail: “I kind of like Amazon.com better than Pokershare.com. It has more of a ring to it.” He also suggested that we should auction off the name on eBay.

Another resident commented, “If we change the name to Pokershare.com, it might make it more difficult to do a town exchange with Bluff, New Zealand, and I’m still hoping for a trip there. Of course it might make it easier to do an exchange with Las Vegas, but who wants to go there?”

McDermott received calls from people all over San Juan County and around Utah, many of whom were outraged that the town would entertain the notion of changing its name for money.

“Our ancestors came to Bluff,” one caller said. “They were pioneers. You can’t change the name of Bluff.” Quoted in the Deseret News, San Juan County Commissioner Lynn Stevens asked: “Is it logical that the current residents of the city own the name?” He maintained that the current generation isn’t the only owner of the community; it belongs to future residents as well.

Bluff resident Theresa Breznau stated: “For once just about everyone agrees on what is essentially a very important issue — the health, integrity, and well-being of Bluff, for both the near and far terms. It is extremely impressive to see the descendants of Mormon pioneers, Native Americans, county commissioners, residents of San Juan County, and the residents of Bluff all echoing similar sentiments. . . creating a larger view that is held very dearly, it turns out, in common.”

McDermott received angry phone calls from San Juan County residents living outside of Bluff, especially from Blanding.

But then someone noted that Blanding, in 1914, changed its name from Grayson in return for the promise of a “library,” which turned out to be a largely-disappointing collection of unwanted books.

“The people of Blanding were disappointed with what they received in exchange for changing their name,” San Juan County writer Terri Winder said, “but they kept their part of the bargain anyway.” Grayson has kind of an elegant ring to it. Blanding?

Long-term consequences

After the dust had settled and people had more time to think about it, the questions of short-term gain and longterm consequences came to the front. What are the consequences of the decisions people make on behalf of their communities?

Radioactive waste might come into that thinking. Back in the early ’90s the U.S. Department of Energy was looking for places to store spent plutonium fuel rods, which have a “half-life” of something like 50,000 years. Truth is no one knows.

There were meetings throughout San Juan County. Two of the three San Juan County commissioners made a trip to Washington, D.C., to talk to politicians and DOE officials. The feds were making similar offers to counties out West and to Indian tribes.

The bait came in three stages. In Stage I they offered $150,000 to talk about it. The ante was upped to $500,000 to the more serious Stage II conversations and planning. Stage III was preparation and paper-signing, for a negotiable amount for actual storage.

One of the Apache tribes took the DOE all the way through Stage II, then dropped out. The Goshute Tribe, in Western Utah, took it all the way. They are now a legal repository for uranium waste.

San Juan County never got past Stage I. Navajo County Commissioner Mark Maryboy and the Utah Navajos joined the people of Bluff and a few others in the county to fight the proposal.

In the end Gov. Mike Leavitt and other Utah politicians feared the consequences to such a degree that they passed measures prohibiting the transportation of nuclear waste in the state.

But the Utes’ White Mesa Mill, in Blanding, currently processes nuclear waste from Superfund sites as far away as Buffalo, N.Y., under the guise of “reprocessing” it. On the surface it appears that they are a processing plant (the only one like it in the United States). They “re-process” waste in order to gain the last ounce of useable material — at a loss and a cost to the taxpayers.

The catch is simply this: The nuclear waste that comes to White Mesa never leaves after it has been “re-processed.” They are storing it, literally, and Bluff is downstream.

“This is the spin I finally got,” McDermott said. “There are people in San Juan County who would, for some jobs and a few hundred thousand dollars, approve the storage of nuclear waste here. The same people who are outraged that we would consider changing the name of our town are willing to sell the future of our children and grandchildren by poisoning San Juan County with someone else’s nuclear waste. And these people don’t see the inconsistency. We are willing to sell our souls and our future for a few jobs and a little money.

“White Mesa Mill is upstream from my home,” McDermott continued. “My kids play in Cottonwood Wash when it rains. The future of Bluff is very frightening. Bluff is downstream, the San Juan River is downstream, Lake Powell is downstream.

“Why not consider changing the name of San Juan County to Radioactivewaste.com?” But the name-change issue may be moot. At press time Pokershare.com’s website stated that its licensor had terminated its license and closed down all customer accounts.

Published in February 2006

“Visions” shows Diné in their native lands

“Visions of the People in Their Native Land,” the 40-piece photography exhibit currently at the Navajo Nation Museum in Window Rock, Ariz., is the show that almost wasn’t. “(It) came about in an odd fashion,” says David H. Davis, who with photographer Carmen Hunter put together the exhibit of portraits expressing the beauty of Navajo culture. The show also grew in a slow fashion. Last year Hunter and Davis worked together on a DVD entitled, “Native Faces, Desert Light.” The collections and exhibits curator at the Navajo Nation Museum, Clarenda Begay, saw it and asked Hunter to exhibit at the museum.

Hunter agreed. But when Begay asked for 40 prints, Hunter didn’t think she had that many. She asked Davis for advice.

They had met in the late 1990s. He was shooting portraits on the Navajo Nation. She was a Chinle native, a guide at Canyon de Chelly, and a teacher of Navajo, who picked up photography watching photographers in the canyon. She wanted to learn portraiture.

“She saw the elders in her family starting to age, and unfortunately, some of them were passing away,” says Davis. “She wanted to preserve their legacy in a photographic form.” She and Davis struck a deal: She would provide subjects. He would teach her to make portraits.

So, when she called about “Visions of the People in Their Native Land,” he suggested a “side-by-side” exhibit. She approached the idea by photographing family and friends. He photographed people in the landscape. The result is a set of images that complement each other, 20 of hers, 20 of his.

“It worked out well,” says Davis on the phone from his Grand Junction, Colo., studio.

The shots come from many locations. Some are posed; some not. They focus on a variety of subjects. Davis’ “Sunrise Offering,” taken in Monument Valley, shows two sisters watching the early-morning light. Their juxtaposition to natural formations is a gentle reminder that Native Americans have been in the area a long time.

Hunter’s “The Sheep Herder” presents a close-up of a woman on horseback, with rocks behind her. The rider has a look of gentle concentration on her face. Her mouth almost smiles, as if she enjoys the task of guarding her animals.

Besides doing separate photos, Davis and Hunter worked on projects together for “Visions of the People in Their Native Land.” She helped him identify subjects. He aided her with the technicalities of shooting.

Sometimes, they worked in the same locations. Hunter’s “Two Young Ones” shows her granddaughter sitting in a hogan doorway holding a lamb. Davis caught the child and the lamb by a corner of the hogan, as if “playing hide and seek.” He called the piece “Grandma Found Us.”

Davis and Hunter took all the pictures in “Visions of the People in Their Native Land” with available light. “That creates some interesting light, and soft light,” says Davis.

They shot both color and black-andwhite, putting some images through a sepia-toning process to give them a timeless quality, something disappearing from Navajo life. Others they converted digitally from color to blackand- white.

Davis believes some shots just work better in black-and-white, citing the example of a great-grandmother spinning yarn while chatting with her great-granddaughter. Looking directly at each other, unaware of his camera, they chatter about their lives.

“Color adds a dimension, but take away the color and you get the full impact of what’s really going on (in the picture),” says Davis.

The picture becomes about all great-grandmothers and greatgranddaughters, as they talk across generations, one passing on traditions, the other adapting them to her needs.

That universality, and the strong principles of portraiture in each picture, recall the work of many photographers who have made pictures of Native Americans, particularly Edward Curtis, who worked in the 19th Century.

Davis chuckles. “He was a great portrait photographer. To have my work mentioned in the same breath with his — I’m flattered.”

But Davis then explains an important difference between his and Hunter’s work, and Curtis’s. Curtis believed he was photographing a dying race. Davis does not.

“Native America is gaining in strength and making its voice heard,” he says.

To that end, he believes Native America must nurture photographers to document their own visions of family, tradition, and culture. He has gathered a group of master photographers willing to donate time, money, equipment, and supplies to make that happen.

With the aid of grants, he hopes to create a two-year program so students can learn the art and craft of photography “not in school, but in a real-life setting.” He hopes many shows will come out of the project for his students, and for the people working with them.

Meanwhile, “Visions of the People in Their Native Land” hangs at the Navajo Nation Museum through May 20.

The Davis-Hunter collaboration worked so well that instead of placing their photos for the show on separate walls as planned, they intermingled them. Some just belonged together.

“The notion of unselfishness personifies itself in the show because it’s not an ego trip of photographers showing their work, but of sharing it with the public,” says Davis.

The Navajo Nation Museum is in Window Rock on Highway 64 and Loop Road, a quartermile west of the Arizona/ New Mexico border, 26 miles from Gallup.

Published in Arts & Entertainment, February 2006

Protection or over-regulation? Talk of ‘wild and scenic’ status worries water-users

Should the lower Dolores River be considered “wild and scenic”? How about Hermosa Creek near Purgatory, or the Piedra River east of Durango. These are questions that will soon be mulled during public discussion of proposals for a new management plan for San Juan Public Lands.

Protecting “wild and scenic rivers” seems an innocuous goal at first blush. After all, what Westerner worth the price of a good hat would want them tamed and unsightly?

But in one sense we all want them tamed, because those of us living in the semi- (and increasingly) arid Four Corners are becoming ever more dependent on the water and energy supplied by managing our rivers, including the Dolores, Animas, La Plata, San Juan and Piedra — all of which have myriad users, sometimes conflicting.

Like most things pertaining to federal lands, the issues involved in determining which rivers merit wild and scenic designation — similar in some respects to a tract of territory becoming a wilderness area — are more complex and contentious than they seem.

Public-agency officials, water attorneys, water-users, even environmentalists all exude caution when speaking about wild and scenic designation. The issue is surfacing as part of a new management plan being developed by the San Juan National Forest and BLM’s San Juan Resource Area, and is scheduled to be discussed at public meetings starting in March.

From a broad list of 50-some river or stream segments considered eligible for wild and scenic listing, some will be upgraded to a “suitability” list that will be included in the final draft of the forest management plan, and they will then be managed to protect the attributes that qualified them as suitable, or what are called their “outstandingly remarkable values.”

Competing values

That’s where things can grow contentious. “They may be managed as if they are already designated (wild and scenic) while you wait,” said Don Schwindt, president of the Dolores Water Conservancy District board.

Under the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act — passed by Congress in 1968 — a formal WSR designation triggers special protections that can restrict future uses of both the river corridor and the water, generally prohibiting further development such as dams or new uses and establishing a federal reserved water right.

Only Congress or the Secretary of the Interior can ultimately make a WSR designation, and there is general agreement that is unlikely in Southwest Colorado, given the current political climate in Washington. However, just placing a river on the suitability list that will be adopted as part of the final forest- management plan can in itself restrict future uses.

According to one expert, a suitability listing is akin to a Wilderness Study Area designation, which dramatically limits uses of those public lands.

In order to be eligible for WSR consideration, a river or stream segment must be generally free-flowing and must possess at least one ourstandingly remarkable value such as scenery, recreation, geology, fish and wildlife, or historic or cultural resources. Planners have narrowed streams on the San Juan National Forest to a draft list of 54 eligible segments.

“We have a draft list of the segments that have the outstandingly remarkable values that would make them eligible,” said Kay Zillich, a forest hydrologist working on that part of the management plan. That draft list has begun to be distributed to the public, and public meetings in Cortez, Durango and Pagosa Springs are tentatively planned in March, although dates and locations were not available.

A few of the stream segments on the list are:

  • The Dolores from McPhee to Bedrock, for recreation, geology, endangered fish and special plant communities;
  • The Animas from Silverton to Bakers Bridge, for whitewater rafting and scenery;
  • Hermosa Creek and its tributaries, for recreation and native Colorado River cutthroat trout.

“We’ll ask people to comment on that selection of rivers and tell us if we really missed it as far as those outstandingly remarkable values,” she said. “If there’s factual stuff we messed up on, they could certainly give us input on that.”

In addition, Zillich said, “we’ll be asking folks what are the competing values on those rivers — what opportunities we would miss out on if they were designated a wild and scenic river,” such as additional dams and reservoirs or other diversions.

Alternatives to WSR designation that would adequately protect the rivers will also be explored, she said. For example, if a river has archaeological sites along its corridor, a WSR designation probably wouldn’t be needed to protect them.

“Even our archaeologist says that that current laws regarding heritage resources are sufficient to protect those values,” she said. “You don’t need wild and scenic in addition.”

The goal will be to narrow the eligible streams to a list of “suitable” waterways that could theoretically be managed as WSRs without sacrificing major projects. That list will become part of the final forest plan.

What measures should be taken to protect a “suitable” stream segment depend on what special values it has. More water may be needed to protect a population of native cutthroat trout, for instance, than to protect geologic features.

For stretches of river valued for recreation, Zillich said, there might be very few restrictions.

“Those can have parallel roads and railroads, and residential and occasional commercial development on the banks of the river,” she explained. “That’s not very restrictive at all.”

Already recommended

Zillich said no federal reserved water right is established unless a river is formally designated a WSR, and that is a rare occurrence. Colorado has just one WSR, the Poudre near Fort Collins.

However, some environmentalists would like to see that number increase.

Chuck Wanner of the Durangobased San Juan Citizens Alliance said the group would initially focus its efforts on getting Hermosa Creek north of Durango on the suitability list and then possibly into discussions of a WSR designation.

“That’s the (river) we wanted to talk about first,” he said. “It’s got several outstandingly remarkable values, but the two that come to mind first are the water quality and the fishery. It would be a good, small basin to start a discussion on.”

SJCA is focusing mainly on the upstream part of the river that flows through national-forest land, he said, and believes the chances of it being included on the suitability list are “quite good.”

Another river frequently mentioned as having high WSR potential is the Dolores. But deciding which stretches of the lower Dolores might be suitable is a complicated problem that will take more time to address, Wanner said.

“We believe the studies that were done in the past were probably correct and there’s a lot of river that should be considered down there,” he said. “We’re just trying to talk to folks to arrive at better flows for downstream at this point — that’s a big river and there are a lot of interests involved.”

Schwindt said water-users would be concerned about the possibility of any such designation for local rivers. “Wild and Scenic designation has a lot of significant problems with water management in this state,” Schwindt said. “We don’t know how serious our concerns are on the lower Dolores.”

Zillich pointed out that, in the forest plan adopted in the mid-’80s, the Dolores River below McPhee Dam and the main and middle forks of the Piedra River were already on the “suitable” list and have thus been managed by the USFS for years as if they were wild and scenic. The Dolores, West Dolores, Piedra and Pine rivers were recommended for WSR status in legislation in 1976.

“Whatever (the users) have been doing to the river so far is enough to support the outstandingly remarkable vaues we picked out, which are some special plant communities and some gorgeous scenery,” she said. “So people have this history of what it’s like to live with one of these that’s recommended suitable in a forest plan, and I don’t think it’s as much of an issue as some of our constituents think it is.”

But Schwindt remains wary of the “suitable” label. “That’s why things get arguable as to what’s the impact of that — I’ve heard the Forest Service planners say, ‘This is no different than they’ve been in the last forest plan,’ and there was no problem as far as I know in what’s occurred driven by that, but my guess is that there are nuances there that make those statements maybe not untrue, but skewed.”

Beyond restricting future development, Schwindt said, the designation “limits management, maybe more than just dams and development — there may be implications way beyond that.”

Schwindt questioned whether it is necessary that a suitability list even be made part of the final forest plan; some other forests choose only to make an eligibility list.

Open to interpretation

He said future management of the rivers that make the final cut will be “open to interpretation by those folk who may choose to bring political pressure” to further restrict their uses.

Such pressure could make obtaining permission for legitimate uses a protracted struggle, he said.

“My concern is simply on this state’s ability to manage its water resources, and management means many different things besides potentially just a dam — maybe things that are extremely important to adding to the value of the lower Dolores.”

Schwindt is a member of the Dolores River Dialogue, a group of water-users and stakeholders with different interests and priorities that have been discussing alternatives to WSR listing to protect and enhance the river.

Three things being discussed to improve the lower Dolores are management of the spill (the amount of water released from the dam at different times of year), the base-flow rate below the dam and possible in-channel work to improve that stretch of the river. “We might land on any or a combination of those three,” he said.

A WSR designation could alienate some of the participants in those discussions, Schwindt said. “You lose the impetus and coalition-building that’s been built to date.”

Wanner declined to discuss the WSR issue in detail, but said he hopes something can be worked out to protect the streams’ special qualities.

“We think (the San Juan National Forest) made some good choices on the eligible list and we’ll be following the suitability process and participating,” Wanner said.

Published in February 2006

A rare bird is growing even rarer

New research showing the harmful effects of oil and gas development on sage grouse may have implications for shrinking populations of the birds in Southwest Colorado.

A recently released study by a doctoral student at the University of Wyoming finds that drilling contributed to reduced numbers of sage grouse, and even after drilling ceased, the birds failed to rebound.

“This study shows the impacts of oil and gas development to be quite severe and calls for development of a comprehensive blueprint for sagegrouse recovery,” said Erik Molvar, wildlife biologist for the Wyomingbased Biodiversity Conservation Alliance, during a Jan. 19 conference call.

“Potential impacts of oil and gas development to sage grouse include physical habitat loss, habitat fragmentation, spread of exotic plants, increased predation probabilities, and greater . . . activity and noise resulting in displacement of individuals through avoidance behavior,” states the study by Matt Holloran.

The five-year study involved greater (or northern) sage grouse, the largest grouse in the United States. Once plentiful throughout the West, they are now found in 11 states, including Colorado, and parts of Canada. But their numbers are on the decline.

Southwest Colorado has no greater sage grouse, said Joe Lewandowski, spokesman for the Colorado Division of Wildlife in Durango. They live in the northwest corner of the state.

However, this area is home to a closely related and much rarer bird, the Gunnison sage grouse, which was found to be a separate species only in 2000. The Gunnison, which is smaller than the greater, probably numbers fewer than 5,000 birds in the world.

Concerns about energy-drilling and habitat loss that apply to the greater sage grouse apply to the Gunnison as well, according to researcher Clait Braun.

“You’re dealing with a different species but the situation would be the same,” he said. Braun, who worked for 30 years with the DOW, now owns a consulting firm in Tucson called Grouse, Inc..

Gunnison sage grouse once inhabited the Four Corners states, Oklahoma and Kansas. Now, like fish in a drying creek, they have dwindled down to eight scattered populations — seven in Southwest Colorado and one in San Juan County, Utah, and most of those are in decline.

The two grouse species — commonly known as sage hens, sage cocks or sage chickens — were once widely hunted for food. (Hunting of greater sage grouse is still allowed, but the DOW ended hunting of Gunnisons in June 2000.)

The birds are best known for the flamboyant mating dance performed by the males every spring on strutting grounds called “leks.” The larger, strikingly colored males dance and jig before the females, inflating their yellow breast sacs and making burbling sounds.

(See www.western.edu/bio/young/ gunnsg/gunnison-grouse.htm)

‘Pretty bleak

That dance is seen by fewer and fewer people these days.

Greater sage grouse are believed to number from 100,000 to 500,000, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Between 1965 and 1985, they declined about 3.5 percent per year.

However, in January 2005, the FWS decided not to list the species as threatened or endangered, saying that some populations had stabilized and the rate of decline had slowed to under 1 percent annually.

It’s a different story for the Gunnison sage grouse. In December 2000, the species was listed as a candidate for endangered or threatened status, but the FWS has yet to rule on the listing.

“I believe they’re doing everything they can to delay listing until the bird is essentially extirpated,” Braun said.

Recently, he said, the FWS reached an agreement with petitioners to arrive at a ruling by March 31, 2006. A one year comment period will follow before the final decision is made.

Meanwhile, the species’ status remains extremely precarious.

The population of Gunnison sage grouse in the Dove Creek area is down to an estimated 10 birds, a precipitous decline since 1998’s 70 to 100 birds, according to the DOW and FWS. The Cerro Summit population southeast of Montrose is estimated at 39.

A larger group in the San Miguel Basin (which includes Dry Creek and Miramonte) was estimated at 334 in 2005, according to Lewandowski.

“The situation in this area (the Four Corners) is pretty bleak,” Braun said. “Dove Creek is essentially extirpated.

The La Sal population (near Monticello, Utah) has very little chance of long-term success, either.” That population was an estimated 93 in 2004, according to the FWS.

The largest group by far is in the Gunnison Basin, where the 2005 estimate was 3,885 birds, a dramatic increase of almost 2,000 since 2004. However, Braun is not optimistic.

“The trend is all downhill for the Gunnison sage grouse,” he said. “The only population that stabilized last year was at Gunnison, and the DOW has admitted those birds may have been overcounted. The expansion was too much for one year. The 10-year trend is all down.”

‘An alcoholic in denial’

What happened to the grouse is similar to what’s happened to many wild animals. Farmers cleared fields of sagebrush, needed by the grouse for food and cover; ranchers put cattle on the land. Roads chopped habitat into little pieces. Cheatgrass proliferated.

Blue Mesa and Miramonte reservoirs flooded grouse territory. “Ranchette” owners turned loose their dogs and cats; a 3,000-acre subdivision sits right in the middle of sage-grouse habitat near Dove Creek.

“Habitat loss is really the leading contributor to all problems with species that are in decline,” said Lewandowski.

“At the far western end of the state, agriculture has been very intense for many years. A lot of sagebrush and piñon country where these animals evolved has been chipped away. You can’t blame anybody. A lot of it happened before we even understood how habitat affects these birds.”

Energy development certainly bears some responsibility for the birds’ disappearance, Braun said. “We can point a finger at oil- and gas-drilling as to why sage grouse no longer occur in La Plata County, Archuleta County and even farther to the east,” he said.

However, much of the birds’ decline came in the 1940s through 1960s, so not all the factors are known, he said.

Today, most oil- and gas-drilling in the West occurs in sagebrush habitat.

The new study makes it clear that such drilling can be exceedingly harmful to the birds. The study covered sage grouse in a 421-square-mile area in western Wyoming managed by the BLM. Only 24 wells existed there in 1997. By 2004, there were 450.

Lek sites were classified according to how many producing gas wells were within 3.1 miles of them. For heavily impacted leks — those with more than 15 wells nearby — the total maximum number of male grouse declined 51 percent over the study period, while control leks (without heavy impacts) had a 3 percent decline.

“Now the BLM can no longer claim there’s nothing wrong with the way it’s designing and approving drilling applications on public lands,” said Molvar during the conference call. “The agency is somewhat like an alcoholic that’s in denial. We hope this will put BLM on the path to recovery.”

In the Four Corners, the San Miguel Basin and Utah grouse populations live in areas with high potential for oil and gas development, according to BLM studies.

Means of mitigation

Braun said researchers are not calling for an end to energy development, but for mitigation to reduce harm to the birds and other wildlife.

Directional drilling using existing well pads would reduce impacts, they said during the conference call. In areas where leases are “checkerboarded,” well pads can be put at the corners of different leases and shared by different companies. Another important factor, they said, is making sure old well sites are completely reclaimed — something that often doesn’t happen because bonds required for the companies are too low.

“Sure, I think oil- and gas-drilling should continue,” Braun said. “I think it needs to be modified. But mitigation costs money and reduces profits, and you may have to admit you were wrong. It’s hard to find that in this administration.”

Braun said the BLM and FWS could do much to aid the birds’ survival, but he fears the “political will” is absent. Molvar and others called for a comprehensive strategy to save sage grouse, particularly in light of the push for energy-drilling.

“All over the West we’re seeing this stampede to develop oil and gas resources,” Molvar said. “Care must be taken if we’re going to have these wideopen ecosystems in the future.”

Published in February 2006

Locals debate idea of paving Norwood Road

NORWOOD — Montezuma County commissioners are lobbying the federal government to pave their way north towards this tiny mountain town using Forest Road 526, more commonly known as the Dolores-Norwood road.

But in late January, the recently publicized plan sparked disagreement between Norwood locals fearing increased development and traffic, and others who are eager for the economic boost and convenience a new route may bring.

DOLORES-NORWOOD ROAD

The graveled, washboarded section proposed for paving begins 10 miles from Dolores and ends roughly 50 miles later at Norwood, a quaint bedroom community of the ritzy Telluride area.

Along the way the popular “locals” road weaves through the rolling remote foothills of the San Juan and Uncompahgre national forests, forever in the shadow of Lone Cone Peak, a 12,600-foot landmark in the region.

The road is used primarily by hunters, recreationists and residents to access the backcountry, mostly during the summer and fall.

It also provides the main access to private land surrounding Groundhog and Miramonte reservoirs as it passes through Montezuma, Dolores and San Miguel counties. The route is not maintained in the winter months, nor is it ever closed. During dry winters, the lower-elevation terrain can be passable by four-wheel-drive vehicles.

Citing improved access onto public lands for recreation, hunting, logging, ranching, fire control and energy development, Montezuma County Commissioner Dewayne Findley informed Norwood citizens of the paving goal and urged their support.

“I see it as an alternative route between our two communities, one that is more direct than Highway 145 or going around through Disappointment Valley,” Findley told an audience of about 27. Going to Norwood from Dolores via 145 is 92 miles; using the Disappointment Valley route is 100 miles.

The U.S. Department of Transportation has funding for such paving projects, he said, but the road must be designated as a “forest highway” with the Federal Highway Administration before money can become available.

San Miguel County’s portion has retained a federal forest highway designation, according to Art Goodtimes, San Miguel County commissioner.

Dolores and Montezuma counties lost their highway designation in the 1960s in a tradeoff for a paved route from Highway 666/491 to oil fields near Aneth, Utah.

The Montezuma County commissioners believe a federal designation is the most realistic solution to improve the road. However, obtaining that status depends on community support in the form of letters from all counties, towns, and land agencies affected.

“(The FHA) has made it clear they won’t go forward with paving projects without community buy-in,” Findley said. “We saw that with the West Fork.”

As a federal highway, the West Fork road gained funding and was paved bit by bit for 12 miles over many years up to Fish Creek. The plan was to connect Highway 145 with Dunton, now a private hot-springs resort on the West Fork.

But resident outcry over the paved road threatening the rural atmosphere of the remote, pristine valley quashed the project and the feds pulled out eight miles short of Dunton.

“In order to be taken seriously, we want to avoid a firestorm from the local community,” Findley said.

But it’s apparent that the Dolores- Norwood paving proposal is driving full-bore into the same storm of controversy.

One Norwood business owner, Cheryl Grafmyer of High Country Motorsports, said she was against the paving because it inevitably spurs sudden development.

“I’m not willing to ask people to give up quality of life in a rural area just so my business can survive. We like our remoteness; we are not scared of our lack of emergency services. It makes us unique.”

Findley emphasized that supporting the federal highway designation for Montezuma County does not guarantee a new road will be built. “It just puts us in line for funding down the road so we have that option,” he said. “It could be 10 years (before funding is a possible) but it still goes back to local control to decide if they want their section paved or not.”

That triggered skepticism among the crowd. “I firmly believe that once a road begins to get paved, it ends up all the way paved,” said Jim Boyd.

Said another man, “What about traffic control? Already that road sees a lot of speeders. Will there be restrictions on truck traffic? Paving it will just bring more.”

Findley said the road would have the normal restrictions any highway has for truck weights, but he didn’t believe it would be used by truckers heading north.

Already the route is partly paved.

From Dolores, the road was paved for eight miles to the House Creek turnoff as part of the McPhee Reservoir project.

In a cost-share with the Forest Service, Montezuma County recently chip-sealed it another three miles to provide better truck access to the Sweetner Gas Compression Station.

The county plans to chip-seal the remaining three miles to the Dolores County line. Chip-sealing with oil is the poor man’s pavement. Chip-seal requires minimal maintenance but only lasts for up to 10 years, and costs $100,000 per mile.

Asphalt lasts 20 years or longer, is more durable, but costs at least $200,000 per mile. Supporters of paving the road point to the longterm savings for counties on road maintenance . Gravel roads need constant blading, require dust abatement with magnesium chloride, and have constant drainage problems that require repair.

Counties would not have to pay to build the road, Findley said, but would be responsible for maintenance. According to one official estimate, paving the remaining 50 miles of the Dolores-Norwood road would cost the federal government $10 million.

Art Goodtimes, a San Miguel County commissioner and member of the Green Party, grudgingly supports Montezuma and Dolores counties’ request for the designation. The other two commissioners are undecided.

“Personally, I don’t want the road paved,” Goodtimes said. “I live there and the traffic is already bad. But as a representative of all of you, I feel it is in our best interests to get into the (funding) hopper. In 10 or 20 years if the funding ever comes, it will be our choice of what we want to happen and when.”

Better access to Norwood from the south could improve the town’s struggling economy. “Norwood has to decide. Do we want to grow independent?

Or stay being a bedroom community of Telluride?” Goodtimes said.

“If you build it, they will come,” Findley said. “People are not finding you now; maybe you will see an increase in business. Dolores is having the same trouble as Norwood.”

A show of hands revealed nine for the proposal, five against. The rest were undecided.

“I’ve got mixed feelings,” Boyd said after the meeting. “That is a major elk corridor; there are (rare) Gunnison sage grouse there [See Page 6]. A paved road increases wildlife deaths from traffic. Sometimes it is good to say no to a convenience that is just going to speed development.”

Be careful what you wish for was another sentiment voiced at the meeting.

“I’m a newcomer from Arizona, and there our town jumped from 350 people to 5,000 in 12 years,” said Frank Marciante. “That is why we moved here. It is mind-boggling how fast it can happen and with it comes crime, congestion, everything you move to get away from.”

For the past three years, the Montezuma County commissioners have been attending annual federal transportation meetings urging the highway designation for FR 526. Securing highway funds on the Western Slope is tough, because most tax dollars are spent on the populous Front Range.

“They wanted to kick us out of those meetings, but our approach is that we are not going to go away,” Findley said.

The Norwood Chamber of Commerce said they would poll their businesses and decide if a letter of support for the project is warranted.

Reportedly favoring the designation are the San Juan and Uncompahgre national forests, Colorado State Parks, Dolores County, the Division of Wildlife and the majority of private landowners along the road.

Published in February 2006

Useless things: A Christmas memory

I’m not sure I can remember the exact age when owning a horse amounted to a full-time thought, but I know when it occurred I spent my days from dawn to dusk thinking about it. I was maybe 4, or 5, or even 6. Right now it doesn’t matter, because that horse has been put to pasture for nearly 50 years. I also can’t remember why I wanted it so badly, much less what I got out of having it.

Of course, it wasn’t a flesh-and-blood horse. Children in the movies get those; mine happened to be molded out of plastic. It stood about 8 inches high with moveable joints in its legs and a saddle that could be removed and reattached by lining up little plastic pegs that conveniently fit into holes located somewhere at the top of the horse’s rump. One of the pegs broke soon after my parents brought the horse home for Christmas. Two of its legs hung limply before a month was up. I’d have shot it and put both of us out of our misery, but another month would pass before I wanted a toy pistol so badly I couldn’t think of anything else.

And that’s how things have gone for most of my life, one blinding urge to own something followed closely by an urge to own something else. I’ve tried to moderate my consumerism by shopping at thrift stores and yard sales, but in the end I guess I’m a useless materialist.

The philosophy that less could ever be more sounds good, and I want to believe it, but when applied to me it works out to be ridiculous. I believe that in the end the meek shall inherit the earth, but I suspect it will be only because all the good stuff will have been taken to other planets.

Still, for all the bad press that consumerism generates in America, useless things have their places. I mean, especially in what they make me do to acquire them. These passions to own new things get me up in the morning and off to work. They force me to persist when I’d prefer just giving up. They keep my attention focused on the world around me, the new, the revolutionary.

In the end of course, no matter what initially excites me, it seems I always end up being the proud owner of one more useless thing. One of my problems is electronics. Atomic clocks, digital weather stations, GPS devices, battery-powered blackjack games, ultrabrite flashlights, talking key rings, the list goes on and on. Just before the Pod people hit the streets, I thought the mini disc was the next revolution in music technology. What is an i-Pod, after all, if not an elaborate solution to a minuscule problem. All these people walking around with more songs than a radio station make me think I could have been a disc jockey. I rationalized the purchase, thought, If I owned an i-Pod, I could get rid of all my CDs, but no, not likely. I haven’t tossed out music equipment since the Beatles arrived in America. I even hang on to cassettes, just in case. And now that LPs are deemed “collectible,” I found a very nice turntable at a thrift store, one I never could have afforded back in the vinyl era. On the plus side, though, I’ve stopped buying 8-track tapes.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but doesn’t it seem the products these days are being manufactured with an eye toward an earlier demise? Even the plastic feels cheaper, and plastic is the main ingredient of a useless thing. Other characteristics include an unusually glossy finish that attracts the eye, a secret compartment for batteries, and a set of instructions that claim to be written in English.

If you’re still not sure what constitutes a useless thing, stop by a Dollar Store and shop the aisles for 15 minutes. Here’s the concept of uselessness raised to a corporate level, a national distribution of merchandise guaranteed to cost no more than a buck and worth even less. What surprises me is not that people flock to these bargain bins, but that the dollar itself has officially been reduced to a denomination that stands for junk.

David Feela is a teacher at Montezuma-Cortez High School.

Published in David Feela

Sins of the past haunt us today

Environmentalists — the enemies of progress! Or at least that’s what we hear from those who rape and pillage our planet.

When Bambi meets John Wayne the sparks fly and reason heads out the door. Yet both sides need the environment as much as the other.

I consider myself an environmentalist. I haven’t been to college and am not what one would call an erudite man. But I have traveled extensively and observed what has happened to our environment in my short lifetime of 76 years, and not in all the centuries before the last one has humankind done so much damage to the earth. I was raised on what would now be called a small farm. We didn’t even know what an environmentalist was, but we were conservationists.

We didn’t have costly chemicals to enhance growth of crops or livestock. We rotated our crops, letting the land rest periodically. We carefully monitored the breeding of livestock, whether horses, cattle or chickens. Many in my home town opted out of producing grain and elected to raise your Thanksgiving turkey, which produced year-around jobs. Yes, we were conservationists, but things changed. “More and bigger” became the guidelines instead of diversity.

We were urged to grow more and more of a single crop on the same land, pouring fertilizer and pesticides into the soil to boost our cash crops. We plowed acres of hazelnuts under, expanded our crop-producing acreage, and found ourselves producing more of a crop but at the same time bringing the price down. More and bigger resulted in less income.

Meanwhile, the government was conned into draining swamps, resulting in the destruction of birds, wildlife and native plants. On our farm we had a place to dump unneeded things: glass jars, paint and paint cans, bedsprings, old tires, fan belts, iron from broken machinery, grease and oil and dead animals. Were we polluters? You betcha. We did this through ignorance and every farmer in the area did the same. So did industries. Now the taxpayers are paying millions to reclaim the wetlands and clean up these private contaminating dumps.

The “more and bigger” philosophy has had consequences everywhere. Take the earth’s oceans. Two-thirds of our planet is water; only 1 percent is potable, and we have managed to pollute about all of it.

I remember my sixth-grade teacher explaining that we might have to one day depend on the oceans for food. Well, that possibility is extinct. The number of species in the oceans today has dropped by 50 percent. Why? Frantic, sustained over-fishing, plus pollution from the dumping of sewage and garbage from industries — all directly related to the expansion of the human population.

To say it ain’t happening is like burying garbage — out of sight, out of mind. As we should know, what happens anywhere on this planet affects our health and welfare. A dust storm in China may bring beautiful sunsets but it should remind us what a sunset is — the time before darkness.

Let’s bring the environment into perspective. Say it’s your home, abode, place of refuge. Common sense tells you that you like to keep it clean and pleasant. You keep the dust down, you’re careful with your water supply, you don’t let your garbage pile up. You scrub, change your beds, vacuum the furniture, plant flowers inside and out. Environmentalism is simply doing the same on a larger scale.

I think back on the mistakes we and others made through ignorance. These problems did not surface for years, in the form of costly and serious damage to the soil and water supply.

We were a railroad and farming community. At that time, the coal-powered steam engine provided the power for the grain and cattle trains. Coming right through town the smoke and steam released by the engines wreaked havoc on Monday’s wash and the windows, to say nothing of the dust it left in the home.

To stifle complaints, the railroad installed an underground pipe from the place where they let off steam to clear the boilers to the river a couple miles away, draining the rust and impurities into the river that provided drinking water for the area and ice to cool our ice boxes. This was done not with malice but with ignorance. Later, when the diesel engines came to be, they then, through ignorance, drained the oil down this pipe. Not too good an idea by anyone’s standards!

This went on for years after I left, and not until people became aware of the damage was something done. One would think that people with enough intelligence to run a railroad would know better, but it took the complaints of average people to bring this to a halt. So let’s not be so quick to ridicule the layperson environmentalist as a kook, tree-hugger, or animal activist.

The environment is a relentless, informative teacher. It is rarely forgiving and extracts a high cost if we do not adhere to the lessons. Extinction is just that — gone, caput, no more. There is a purpose for every living thing, be it plant or animal. It has its place in the circle of life, each depending on the other for survival. If the links are destroyed the circle gets smaller and the struggle for life becomes more precarious.

In times gone by we committed many travesties against the environment through a lack of knowledge of what the consequences would be. If we’d just erred on the side of caution there would not be so many Superfund sites throughout our nation. Maybe we ought to heed the environmentalists and err on the side of caution from now on. It could save us a lot of headaches in the future.

Galen Larson lives in rural Montezuma County.

Published in Galen Larson

Unwanted immigrants: Africanized bees are steadily spreading closer to Colorado

Swarms of “killer” bees, an aggressive hybrid true to their name, have long inhabited Texas, Nevada and southern Arizona. More recently they have been spreading through New Mexico, arriving in Santa Fe neighborhoods last November.

Will they migrate further north into Colorado? Experts say the possibility is remote but can’t be ruled out.

“Colorado’s colder year-round climate appears to be the approximate boundary for their range,” said Whitney Cranshaw, a professor of entomology at Colorado State University. “Aside from reports of some testy bees, there have been none (of the Africanized strain) confirmed by lab in the state.”

The hot-tempered insects, known as Africanized bees, are the result of a hybrid experiment gone wrong in Brazil in 1957.

AFRICANIZED BEES

Breeders there successfully combined the European honeybee with the genetically more defensive African honeybee, thinking the resulting strain would be better adapted to warmer climates.

African honeybees’ very aggressive, territorial nature is a result of that continent’s temperate climate, which allows for a persistent threat of competition from hordes of predatory insects and animals.

But the genetically altered bees escaped, forming feral colonies in Brazilian forests. They have been breeding and migrating north ever since, occasionally injuring or gruesomely killing pets and people who wander too close to active hives.

The Smithsonian Institute estimates that 1,000 people in the western hemisphere have been killed by Africanized bees, mostly in rural areas where there is limited shelter. Some 100,000 cattle are estimated to have been killed by the insects as well.

In 1990 they hit the United States at Hildago, Texas. Since then that state has had 11 deaths linked to Africanized bees. Their presence has also been verified in Florida, Georgia, California, Utah, Arkansas, Louisiana and Oklahoma.

According to entomologists, Africanized bees view an otherwise casual threat, such as a hiker on a trail, a dog in a yard or homeowner cleaning a woodshed, to be worth attacking. And they do so with chilling effectiveness, chasing and then swarming over victims, stinging them repeatedly in the face and neck, forcing them to fall to the ground so they are more vulnerable. It takes 2,000 stings to kill the average person. But swarms can include 10,000 or more bees. One hive found last June in Kenna, N.M., estimated by agriculture extension agents to have 80,000 bees. Each bee can only sting once before it dies.

Allergic reaction is the typical danger for victims, but death can easily occur in the elderly and the young as well, usually from asphyxiation due to swelling from thousands of poisonous stingers released into the bloodstream. The stinging itself releases airborne hormones that alert the rest of the hive to join in the attack on the perceived threat.

Entomologists dislike the term “killer” bees, but the insects have lived up to their reputation on occasion, as these news clips tracked by stingshield. com since 1996 confirm.

  • In Santa Fe, Joel Simko, a pestcontrol worker, fell off a roof as he was attacked by bees later confirmed to be from an Africanized colony. He survived after escaping into his truck, where he said the bees kept on swarming, trying to find a way inside. Experts believe the September incident is the furthest north that killer bees have ever been found in the western United States.
  • In November, 2005, killer bees were confirmed near several homes southeast of Albuquerque in Torrance County. Samples from a hive in a homeowners woodpile tested postive. So far 16 counties have detected the vicious strain of honey bee, and speculation by state entomologist Carol Sutherland is that they are likely in every county.
  • In 2000, Lucille Kincaid, 74, of Carlsbad, died of cardiac arrest when attacked by a swarm while in her backyard. She is the only reported death from the bees in New Mexico.
  • During a picnic in El Campo, Texas, Francis Hernandez was attacked by killer bees and died. She was 36. Her mother told reporters that Francis, who was blind, was covered from head to toe with the bees.
  • In Mesa, Ariz., a man cleaning a shed foolishly knocked a hive from a wall. When the bees swarmed he fled and the bees gave chase. He ran past an 88-year-old man and the bees turned to attack him instead, killing the elderly man. A firefighter described the horrifying scene, explaining that the man’s head looked like a hive of bees.
  • Two farmers from Texas, one from Houston, the other from Richmond, were attacked by Africanized bees while operating tractors. They both died after jumping off and being crushed by their still-running equipment.
  • In Bisbee, Ariz., Africanized bees swarmed over pedestrians and motorists, prompting panic and fear, reported the Bisbee Police Department. A four-block area was cordoned off, and witnesses reported that everywhere you looked bees were attacking. Pigeons dropped from the sky covered in the bees.
  • Carol Davies of Tucson watched in horror as her Labrador was stung to death by a colony living in a adjacent vacant house. “Her whole body was just brown with bees. It was a living nightmare,” she said.
  • In Scottsdale, Ariz., a man attacked by bees ran into traffic and was hit by a car, but survived. A 13-year-old boy from Ahwatukee, Ariz., was not as lucky. He ran into traffic fleeing the bees and was killed by a van.
  • Hurrican Katrina is thought to have blown killer bees into Miami, Fla., officials report. The bees took refuge in a log at Miami Gardens. When a pestcontrol worker tried to remove them, they swarmed over a neighborhood, killing two dogs and stinging residents, officials said. Firefighters on the scene reported that the colony was so large, it covered their truck. They had to put on full bunker gear.

Africanized bees appear to be able to handle colder temperatures by clustering around the queen and quivering their thoraxes.

They adapt well to the Southwest, experts say, because there are frequent sunny winter days. It is then that they can become active if disturbed. Spring and summer, they are feeding and breeding, so extra caution is needed.

A shorter growing season in Colorado and higher altitudes may contribute to keeping them out of the state, Cranshaw said, “because there is just less food here for them.”

But global climate change that is warming the earth makes it “possible they could arrive if (global warming) were persistent,” Cranshaw said.

“We’ve seen insects migrate from southern, warmer climates in the state to the north where they have not been seen before.”

But a bigger concern for apiaries are mite infestations, he said, that kill off honeybee colonies.

A pheromone was discovered by researchers in Africanized bees that smells like bananas and is emitted from direct attacks.

The hormone has been re-created synthetically and has been used successfully for traps in Florida, Louisiana and Texas. Cranshaw advises people to not use fruit-scented perfumes found in shampoos, skin creams and sunscreen. If attacked, Cranshaw said, the best

thing to do is run in a straight line, don’t fall down, cover your face and seek a shelter that seals off completely. If hiking, carry an emergency shelter blanket for use in case of attack.

Beekeepers are familiar with the Africanized strain’s peculiar habits. If captive bees seem unusually aggressive, the hive is destroyed or the queen is replaced with a more docile strain.

In Montezuma County, honey producers have not reported any problem with bee populations within their operations, reported Jan Sennhenn, CSU ag extension agent.

Killer bees look exactly like the calmer European bees, but do not produce as much honey. A DNA test is required to identify the Africanized strain.

Extension offices should be contacted if a killer-bee hive is suspected so they can be professionally exterminated and sent to a lab for identification.

Published in January 2006

Seeking a pollution solution

Jim Hook, owner of the Recapture Lodge in Bluff, Utah, brings forth an empty, dusty old wine bottle. It has a dilapidated cigar shoved down its neck, and around its middle is taped an official vote tally from a 1997 election. The tally reads: “Bluff Sewage Issue — Shall we have a central sewage plant? No’s — 82, Yes’s — 50.”

Hook explains, “This is the wine we drank on the night we won, and this is the cigar we smoked!”

Many residents of this tiny town feel the same way today about the possibility of a central sewage plant in Bluff, or even of any mandatory requirements for regular inspections.

A July 2005 engineering report strongly recommending that the town at least install two “cluster” septic systems and begin regular monitoring of existing septic systems has met considerable resistance. It was downplayed by the Bluff Area Service Board at a meeting of the San Juan County commissioners on Dec. 12.

And Bluff’s Wastewater Committee urged Utah water engineers Nolte Associates, Inc., of West Jordan to rewrite parts of the report not only to correct mistakes but to alter its general thrust. The report “highly recommended” not just septic-tank monitoring and pumping but two major installations requiring costly outlays for neighborhood piping and equipment.

BLUFF, UTAH

According to Steve Simpson, a lawyer in Bluff who attended the commission meeting, Wastewater Committee members reported mainly a “maintenance” problem with septic systems in Bluff, while project engineer Rod Mills of Nolte had warned that improved maintenance of on-site septic systems cannot solve Bluff’s systems- failure problems.

“Many onsite systems already failed or are malfunctioning while many systems have potential to fail or malfunction in the future,” the report found. The report called the failure rate of 10 percent or more in two years among the 122 systems disturbingly high, which was part of the terminology that Wastewater Committee chair Theresa Breznau asked to be changed.

The Nolte report was commissioned by the Bluff Wastewater Committee, a loosely organized group of volunteers chaired by Breznau, the only member appointed (by the Bluff Service Area Board).

Bluff, which is not an incorporated town, is managed by the board rather than a formal town council. The wastewater committee has been meeting for at least two years, working for countless hours without pay to steer Bluff toward a resolution of its sewage problems.

But according to e-mails from Breznau obtained by the Free Press, she objected to the Nolte report from front to back and threatened not to pay the firm unless it made numerous changes.

One missive dated July 26, 2005, from Breznau to Rod Mills and Delmas Johnson of Nolte Associates begins, “No one on our committee is happy with this report.”

The e-mail later states: “(Y)ou have three options as far as we can tell. You can correct the data and then correct the conclusions so that they match the data. (Our preferred course of action.) Or you can just correct the erroneous data. Or you could refuse to do any further work on this. If you decide not to make corrections, I can’t guarantee that you will receive payment for #6 milestone. . . .”

Breznau made 57 objections to the engineers’ report, each of which was addressed in a later e-mail by Mills. Mills later corrected a typo that transposed key soils data and tried to accommodate Breznau on lesser points, but stood by his original recommendations. Despite Breznau’s threat, he was paid.

Breznau declined to comment on the matter.

The Nolte study was funded by a grant Bluff was awarded in 2003 by the National Onsite Demonstration Program, based in West Virginia. The program encourages the use of alternative, onsite and wastewater treatment technologies to ensure water quality and protect the environment in small rural communities.

The grant also funded a town inventory of homeowners. Forty-six percent of town residents allowed on-site inspections and volunteered septic histories. Numerous homeowners revealed that they had never pumped their septic tanks out.

Proponents of a central system say the 54 percent who declined to be inspected could be hiding even more system failures, and there are rumors of old, illegal, jerry-rigged septic systems that are still in use.

Remaining grant monies now are allocated to Souder Miller & Associates, engineers from Cortez, for a small study of lowland treatment options, even though Brent Adams, a Souder Miller engineer attending the Dec. 21 wastewater- commitee meeting, said that government regulations would prohibit any treatment in the available BLM lowlands along the San Juan River.

In the Nolte report, Mills recommended mandatory maintenance inspections and regular pumping “at the least.” He also recommended installing one cluster system west of Cottonwood Wash where lots are too small to meet Utah code.

In cases where lots are under one acre, it is acceptable to install underground equipment to upgrade septictank effluent before it goes to your leach field. Mills was recommending a simpler system that would pipe all effluent (for up to 100 homes) to a central location where assembled underground equipment could process everyone’s output together.

Mills recommended a second cluster system to serve the east side of town , where numerous clay “lenses” retard normal leaching. Homeowners would still be required to pump their individual tanks regularly and comply with scheduled inspections and permits as well.

Mills reported costs per home for individual on-site septics (with no clusters) at $19 per month. The cost per month for a central sewage plant, he said, would be about $26. That is because state and other funding would cover 80 to 90 percent of all construction and maintenance expenses. There would, however, be a sewer hook-up fee, which has yet to be determined.

The Nolte report as well as San Juan County Commissioner Lynn Stevens insist that any program requiring regular maintenance of septic systems must be mandatory, but some wastewatercommittee members say a voluntary system will work.

“The situation in Bluff as it relates to wastewater is very much in turmoil,” Stevens said. He said the commission and the Bluff Wastewater Committee must resolve their differences before the county will call for a general meeting with the state, in Bluff. Such a meeting is expected around March. Andrea Carpenter, whose husband, David, is a member of the Wastewater Committee, hopes for a constructive solution to the sewage dispute. She would like, for a start, to get credible figures on how many septics have actually failed.

Aside from the town inventory, Jim Hardin, head of operations for the town water system, claims to have reported every failure he has encountered to government authority. But that data has not been publicized. Breznau’s proposed maintenance program would gather hard data over a period of years, but would be reliable only if mandated.

A factor in the debate is that many believe a conventional central plant, would promote rapid growth, and many would like to see Bluff stay just as it is.

Because Bluff is not incorporated and cannot shape its own destiny, it has for years used septic tanks and the lack of a central system as its tool for planning and zoning, thus keeping businesses few and land undeveloped. And this is fine with many residents who came to Bluff to escape the rampant growth that has already arrived in other parts of the area, such as Moab.

Eugene Foushee, the builder and former owner of the Recapture Lodge motel, is outspokenly one of those. With only 122 hook-ups strung out along close to two miles of sewer main, he said, a central sewer system would be extremely expensive for the property owners.

“Some day when there’s more businesses and more people, it will reach critical mass and then there will be a sewer system,” he said, “but we’ve been through this several times since the mid-’70s.

He said the major property owners and local developers are behind the push for a centralized sysyem.

“They want to be able to advertise and say, ‘Oh, yeah, we got a sewer system, come on in’,” he said “But the town is not going to grow like that anyway — this is a remote spot and the way we see it should grow, is slowly. Only the people who really like what this town has to offer should come here — not to try make it into another sleepy little two-bit Western town that’s overpopulated and overuses its scenery.

“(Business interests) would love for it to be a Vail, a Moab, a Sedona or Telluride, any of these places where developers have made a bundle and the curio-stand folks have made a lot of business out of it.”

Foushee said he would support mandatory inspections every few years.

“Pumping could be a useful thing, and I could see that we might even own the (pumping) truck at some point and say we’ll just pump them out automatically every three or five years.”

Concerning the septic-tank survey, Foushee said that homeowners were simply asked if they wanted to participate, and many of those whose systems are problem-free simply had no interest in the inspections. In other words, they didn’t “refuse” to have them done, as critics have charged. He said the Nolte report told residents little that was new, and called it a “high-powered bunch of eye-wash.”

“Septic tanks work and it’s a rarity that they don’t,” Foushee said.

But Commissioner Stevens told the Free Press that septic tanks in Bluff fail too often. “It is the unanimous opinion of the San Juan County commissioners that the sewage wastewater situation in Bluff is unsatisfactory and unhealthy,” he said.

“There has been contaminated groundwater on the surface from failed septic systems,” Steven said. “I think we ought to take a hard look at all of the different engineering evaluations that have been made. Certainly a central sewer system would be the most healthy.”

He said the question of financial feasibility is difficult to answer.

“There is a central sewer system in Aneth and Montezuma Creek, both of which are signifcantly smaller in population and in income than Bluff,” Stevens said. “I don’t know how you answer the question of whether it is financially feasible. Certainly state and federal money is available to install a central sewer system. It’s a question of whether the people are willing to accept that and to have a monthly recurring bill.”

The county has no direct authority in the matter, he said, because there is no county health department, just a regional branch of the state health department to handle such issues. The county has delegated its authority over Bluff to the Bluff Service District. Some town residents believe no one should tell them how to handle their septic systems, he said.

“Sometimes when it comes to wastewater it gets quite personal. Individual families say it is not a public matter how they manage their septic system on their own property, but we believe that if a septic system overflows and creates contamination on the ground then dogs, cats, birds, flies or whatever get in contact with that effluent and it creates a public problem.”

Another reason people resist the idea of a central sewer system is opposition to growth, Stevens noted.

“Some of the citizens of Bluff resist a central system because they think that would encourage increased population, and the people don’t seem to be very eager to have the town grow at all,” he said. “The commission’s position is it has nothing to do with the economy or growth. It has to do with public health.”

Published in January 2006

Relocated: A new visitors center leaves vendors in Monument Valley with an uncertain future

What is now graded red sand at the junction of Highway 163 and the Monument Valley Road in Utah was, just six months ago, the “Vendor Village,” also referred to as the Monument Valley Mall.

It consisted of two lines of vendor booths constructed of rough-cut lumber, where a generation of Navajos worked and sold their wares to tourists from around the globe. I’ve heard them called “shacks” by members of the San Juan County establishment, some of whom have made a long and concerted effort to remove them from the beautiful, photogenic landscape.

MONUMENT VALLEY VENDORS

Today, a brand-new facility of brick and steel is being constructed on Utah State Parks land on the southeast corner of the junction, and the vendors are gone. With them went a piece of Monument Valley’s past.

Forced out at gunpoint

There’s a history of relocation among the Navajos. In the 1860s, Kit Carson, on orders from Gen. James Carleton — who was convinced that great mineral treasures lay below the Navajo landscape — rounded up all the Navajos and Apaches he could get his hands on, and relocated them to a place called Fort Sumner, N.M. The Navajos were forced to march there in the middle of winter. Pregnant women and enfeebled or injured Navajos who couldn’t keep up were shot.

“Bosque Redondo,” as the Navajos called it, became their home for four years. Attempts at turning this concentration camp into a successful farming enterprise were a total failure. Many hundreds of Navajos died during their internment before the tribe was allowed to return their homes.

In the 1950s San Juan County, Utah, cattlemen, who tired of Navajos herding sheep on public lands north of the San Juan River (a traditional herding area for the Navajo for hundreds of years, but off of the reservation boundaries established by the Treaty of 1868) forced them from their camps at gunpoint in the middle of winter and drove them back across the river.

Now, as I stood beside the “junction” — where Highway 163 intersects with the road connecting the village of Monument Valley (the Post Office, medical clinic, Head Start, the fire department and EMS, Goulding’s Lodge, the air strip, and the high school) with the Navajo Nation Tribal Park — I could not help but wonder at the events that led to the current chapter.

Ten years ago, I frequently stood in the same spot with a stack of copies of the Canyon Echo, a small, local newspaper which included monthly articles about the Diné, or Navajo people, the Utes, and occasional historical references to the “disappeared” Paiutes who once formed an important part of the indigenous community along the San Juan River.

Every month (except January and February), I delivered papers to the people at Vendor Village, and so got to know them and their families. I went to high-school graduations and weddings, and saw some of the boys go off to fight in their country’s service.

Children played in the Monument Valley sand close to the little coal- or wood-fired stoves in the winter, and the wind blew the red sand through the cracks, covering the tables where sat silver and turquoise jewelry, pottery, and arts and crafts, designed to entice Germans, Japanese, Italians, and Americans in Winnebagos to stop on their tiresome journeys between the Grand Canyon and Mesa Verde and peruse what the Navajos had to sell.

As the saying goes, “There’s a history to everything,” and this story is no exception.

Fictional Indian tribes

Back in the 1930s a fellow named Harry Goulding had an idea. He had a small trading post and a few rooms to rent in what he thought was the most beautiful place on earth, Monument Valley.

When the Paiutes were relocated and moved off the Paiute Strip, and the Navajo Reservation was extended from the Arizona border to the San Juan River in exchange for the land which is now Lake Powell, Goulding found out about it and wangled a section (640 acres) from the State of Utah. That’s the current location of Goulding’s Lodge.

Goulding’s idea was Hollywood. He thought Monument Valley would be a great place to make movies, and he was right. He convinced director John Ford of it, and the result was many movies featuring John Wayne fighting a wide assortment of fictional Indian tribes. The names of the tribes weren’t fictional (Sioux, Cheyenne, Apache), but many of them had never been anywhere near Monument Valley.

I had a friend, Michael Lacapa, who was Hopi/Tewa/Apache and grew up among the White Mountain Apaches, his mother’s people.

“I grew up around Fort Apache,” he said. “I had seen all of those John Wayne movies when I was a little kid and I always wondered at how unalike the landscapes were. Then when I finally went to Monument Valley, I said, ‘Oh, so this is Fort Apache!’”

Barter and trade

The basis for a relationship between peaceful Anglos and Navajos has always been trade. When the Hollywood celebrities arrived on their chartered flights and in their fancy convertibles, the Navajos presented their colorful rugs and jewelry, and a lively barter ensued. This went on for a number of years (until Hollywood became bored with making movies about cowboys and Indians) and became the basis for the Vendor Village.

In the 1950s the Navajo Nation built a visitors center on the Arizona side, overlooking the most spectacular part of Monument Valley, and a road to it. Local Navajos built small enclosed stands to protect them from the weather and set out their tables with goods on display.

It got crowded in the little parking lot and, according to one source, “The tribe didn’t like the competition,” and decided that if the local Navajos wanted to sell there they’d have to pay fees. The result was that the community of vendors moved, lock, stock and barrel, to “the junction” on the Utah side, where they sold their goods and raised their children until just this year.

They were camped on Bureau of Indian Affairs property within the state of Utah. The road is maintained by the Utah Department of Transportation. It was a good spot for the vendors and tourists — but one that was in the way of progress.

The State of Arizona decided years ago that it wanted to build rest stops on scenic byways. It offered to put up $2 million to build one at Monument Valley. About 20 years ago the State of Utah decided it wanted to be a part of this project, and San Juan County got involved.

The Vendor Village, the one people have called Monument Valley Mall all those years, was located on BIA land, but outside the fences and on the highway right-of-way. Inside the fences was State of Utah land.

Somewhere during this long, convoluted chapter, federal money became available. Twenty years ago it was called “ISTEA” money and was set aside to promote American scenic byways such as Utah’s Highway 163.

Officials wanted to use the money to build their “interpretive center,” but the Navajo vendors were right there in the way, in their shacks.

In an age when uranium-mining had ceased to be the means by which southeast Utah garnered its income, tourism seemed the logical next step.

‘Basically the bully’

“That (funding) was just for an interpretive center,” said Peggy Humphreys, director of the San Juan County Economic Development Council. The SJCEDC has been a prime mover in the project. “But then we started to talk about a Vendor Village for the vendors down there, who are at the present in those shacks you see going off toward the tribal park.”

I first met Leroy Teeasyatoh in his booth at Vendor Village a decade ago. He had been “relocated” from the Joint Use Area of the Hopi Partition Lands by an agreement between the Hopis, the Navajos and the U.S. government. He and many other Navajos were relocated from the homes where they had lived for generations.

“The (Navajo Nation) tribe is basically the bully,” Teeasyatoh said. “I think the tribe has a chip on its shoulder, and who they take it out on is the next person who’s like a crab, trying to get out of the bucket.

“I say this because I went through it. It’s happening right now. It has been happening since I was born. It’s happening because the Navajo Nation put me out here in Monument Valley because of relocation.”

Teeasyahtoh has been highly involved in the Monument Valley Economic Development Association (MEDA). He is the owner/operator of Sacred Monument Tours. He has served on the board of directors of MEDA, and now is on the board of the Monument Valley Tour Operators’ Association.

Eventually, between the federal government, the State of Arizona, Utah, and the Navajo Nation, more than $4 million was raised for the project. They have been working on this phase of the project for 15 years.

But the vendors were in the exact place which was ideally suited for the Monument Valley Visitors Center. The trick was how to get them to move. It was a slow process, but MEDA had the money committed to build the visitors center and also a commitment from Utah State Parks for the land on the other side of the fence.

Remember that the Monument Valley Mall was located outside the fence on highway frontage owned by the BIA and maintained by UDOT. There were no restroom facilities (Navajos used outhouses perched precariously out on the sand dunes which no tourist would consider approaching, let alone using).

There were proposals and counterproposals, meetings and arguments, and Oljeto Chapter (the governing body of Monument Valley and Oljeto, similar to a county) meetings. But, in the end, progress prevailed.

Not the same

The vendors were entreated, threatened, cajoled. Finally a lawsuit and forceful removal were threatened. The result is what you see now: the new facility at the southeast corner of the junction, with the vendors gone. You can look down Highway 163 and see what remains of the vendors, listing in a row on the west side of the road The vendors were offered funding to buy building materials to relocate farther up the road, on Highway 163 in Arizona. Some of them did, but they say it isn’t the same.

“There’s not much business up there at the new location,” said Garry Holiday, Jr. (his family has been vendors for two generations). “The traffic doesn’t slow down along there. The location is not nearly as good as the old one.”

“Some of the vendors are selling at the flea market in Kayenta now,” Torrie Teeasyatoh said. “But tourists don’t stop there. Now, they are trying to sell to their own people in Kayenta.”

There are two phases involved in the process: finishing construction of the visitors center, and building the Vendor Village. The price tag is between $4 million and $6 million for both projects, with estimates of $1 million for Vendor Village.

Construction of the visitors center is under way. Construction of the Vendor Village has not begun.

A question of cost

What of the new village? Wasn’t providing a permanent home for the vendors the motivation for getting them to move in the first place?

“That’s right,” Humphreys said. “At first we were just talking of a visitors center, but we wanted to get the vendors interested because there’s going to be 40 stalls, 40 places to sell their work.”

That’s impressive, I thought. Booths heated and air-conditioned, bathroom facilities for everyone to use, clean, paved walkways. Very civilized.

But Torrie Teeasyatoh is skeptical.

“They’ll never build it,” she said. “I don’t think it’s going to happen. We just got used. There’s no Vendor Village, as you can see.”

Leroy Teeasyatoh agrees. “That was a tactic they used to get local Navajo support for the project. There’s no funding for the vendor village. I think the Utah Department of Transportation needs to cough up some money. They don’t put nothing into it. I’m sick and tired of those guys.

“To force the vendors to move the way they did really affected them. The local Navajos are really struggling right now. If you want to be self-sufficient you have to struggle. That’s what we are doing.”

One of the principal issues is rent. At their old location, the vendors didn’t pay rent. They were their own bosses. They came and went like the wind, adjusting their movements to their needs.

With the new vendor village (if and when it is built) fees can be charged, taxes collected. Under the old system the state of Utah wasn’t assured that it was getting its sales tax.

“The major issue is of rent, of fees for using the booth space,” said Patricia Seltzer, longtime principal of Monument Valley High School, and a community member. “The vendors don’t want to pay it.”

How much will fees be for the newly constructed village?

“A minimum of $10 per day,” Leroy Teeasyatoh said, “plus utilities and fees for trash pick-up, and association dues.”

The fees will be charged year-round. “That’s $3,650 per year at $10 per day. I’ve heard the estimate as high as $6,000.”

Who will decide these things?

“The Vendor’s Association,” Humphreys said. “The Arts and Crafts Association of Oljeto Chapter will govern themselves.”

In the meantime a handful of vendors are stretched along a narrow strip of Highway 163 and few cars stop, even when the weather is fine. There is no vendor village and some people think there may never be one, and if it were built tomorrow, the vendors wonder, who could afford it?

Published in January 2006

Learning about life through bits and pieces

“In the dry early summer of 1992, I am still nominally a physician, but I dig in dirt these days, instead of taking stock of my patients’ bodies, attending only to bones stripped of muscle, blood and brain. . .”

Sarah MacLeish says this because she can’t maintain her medical practice. She is a multiple sclerosis victim, no longer able to use her hands in diagnosis.

She is also the main character in Russell Martin’s novel, “The Sorrow of Archaeology,” recently released by the University of New Mexico Press.

The story is set in Southwest Colorado, and drawn from several of the author’s interests.

“When I started imagining the book, I knew I wanted to write about the Cortez area,” Martin explains quietly in a phone conversation from his Denver office. Martin is a former resident of Montezuma County.

“I also wanted to write about the ancient Puebolan culture that has had such an impact on the Four Corners. (It) had. . .a longer tenure (here) than ours has.”

Martin also finds archaeology, medicine, and disability, particularly multiple sclerosis, interesting to write about. For him, they become metaphors for life’s universal issues.

People “contract MS just at the time when lives are unfolding — at a time of meeting and marrying, child-bearing, and starting careers,” he explains.

“They can live a long life, but face a great challenge in making it productive.”

This idea solidifies in Sarah MacLeish. Knowing she will eventually use a wheelchair, and terrified of the idea, she determines to be normal as long as possible, before she must give in to her disease. She becomes a member of an archaeology dig team her husband, Harry, is supervising at an ancient pueblo site in a canyon near Cortez.

She worries about her relationship with Harry.

He jumps from project to project and adventure to adventure, seizing life with both hands and riding it like a wild horse. She lives carefully, avoiding surprises, and searching for security. She and Harry share a deep bond. Still, troubling moments have arisen between them, over their differences, and she senses his unhappiness with her.

“She knows he loves her, but he would like to rebuild different components of her,” says Martin.

Worse, as a physician who has treated patients with illnesses like hers, she knows she will probably face divorce, though Harry denies he will ever leave her.

To give Sarah the full range of emotions she needs as she struggles with her issues, Martin constructed her story in a series of short chapters. The book draws its title from one of these, in which Sarah laments the fact that archaeologists must try to learn about people’s lives from fragmented evidence.

Flashbacks written in the past tense interweave with current details, stated in the present. Martin also lets Sarah narrate the novel in the first person.

“It’s a personal story, and an intimate one, which fits the voice.”

He enjoyed the challenge of doing the book from a woman’s viewpoint.

“I think men and women are remarkably similar. Yet we are unquestionably different.”

To make sure he got “imagining through a woman’s eyes” right, he relied on help from friend and partner, Lydia Nibley. “She told me when I didn’t have it,” he says with a gentle laugh.

On the dig, Sarah discovers the remains of a pre-teenage girl with a severely deformed leg, which Sarah believes congenital. The girl also has a shattered skull. Immediately, Sarah connects with her, wondering how she lived, how she died, and above all, how she coped with disability. Harry says that Sarah will probably never know. Bone fragments and grave goods cannot possibly explain the girl’s emotional state at death, why she died, or how she lived with her crippled leg.

Sarah insists on trying to find out.

One of the dig-team members, the flamboyant Alice, agrees to send the remains to a friend in a forensics lab. The gesture both comforts and troubles Sarah, who suspects Alice and Harry have begun an affair. Harry must replace the sex that no longer interests Sarah.

Driven by her fear, Sarah struggles harder and harder to understand the child’s story, and through it, her own. The mosaic of personal and archaeological past and present interweave more and more tightly in her mind.

“I want to share with the readers (the idea) that we are all trying to make sense of our lives from fragmentary information. That’s the big challenge — to see clearly. Archaeology attempts to sort out ancient cultures and people. We try to figure out ourselves.”

What Sarah finally figures out about her life and illness, the people around her, the crippled pueblo child, and Harry and Alice, brings “The Sorrow of Archaeology” to a close. What sort, the author refuses to divulge.

“The bottom line is telling the story as richly as one can, in the most dramatic way possible,” says Martin, who has published many non-fiction books in a long writing career.

He spent 15 years writing “The Sorrow of Archaeology,” first trying Sarah’s voice. Once he felt comfortable with it, he began constructing plot. He used neither character sketches nor outlines, but “got to know” his heroine as he wrote.

The book’s slow development didn’t bother him. “I’ve been a typist a long time. Fiction is an imaginative process. You have the freedom to make things up.”

‘The Sorrow of Archaeology” is Martin’s second novel. He published his first, “Beautiful Islands,” in 1989.

Published in Arts & Entertainment, January 2006

Future of roadless areas in limbo

The Clinton roadless rule vs. Bush’s state petitioning rule

Keep roadless areas roadless. That was the message delivered by a majority of speakers at a meeting of Colorado’s Roadless Area Task Force on a wintry night at the Tamarron Resort north of Durango in December. Dissenters, however, said roads should be allowed where needed and complained that roadless areas are tantamount to highly restricted wilderness areas.

FISH CREEK AREA

The 11-man, two-woman task force was appointed by Gov. Bill Owens and certain members of the state legislature to help decide the fate of Colorado’s 4.4 million acres of roadless public lands.

On the San Juan National Forest, recognized roadless areas include nearly 150,000 acres in the Hermosa Creek area near Durango and roughly 20,000 acres in the pristine HD Mountains where extensive natural-gas development is planned.

“These are real places that are valued by real people,” Mark Pearson, executive director of the Durango-based San Juan Citizens Alliance, told the task force.

He described some of the San Juan’s most significant roadless areas: Fish Creek on the West Fork of the Dolores, with extensive wetlands; Blackhawk Peak, the backdrop to Rico; the vast Hermosa area near Durango; the HD Mountains, “the last tiny sliver of the San Juan Basin that has not been exploited for natural-gas extraction”; the San Miguel area between Molas and Lizard Head passes, and Treasure Mountain south of Wolf Creek Pass, habitat for lynx.

The HD Mountains were mentioned by numerous people at the gathering. Lying south of Highway 160 between Bayfield and Pagosa Springs, they constitute the last roadless lower-elevation ecosystem on the San Juan, according to the SJCA.

However, they have also been targetted for natural-gas drilling under existing leases, a plan that has proven enormously controversial.

Bill Vance, a rancher representing the HD Mountains Coalition, said he owns a 360-acre ranch in the heart of the HDs and has grazing leases in the area. He said building roads and pipelines among the steep, rugged, highly erodable slopes would cause erosion that would “choke up our ponds and irrigation systems, myself and neighboring ranchers.”

How to comment

In addition to comments at meetings, Colorado’s Roadless Area Task Force is taking written comments. Send them to The Keystone Center, ATTN: Roadless Areas Review, 1628 Sts. John Roads, Keystone, Colo. 80435, or go to www.keystone.org/html/roadlessareas_task_force.html and look for the link to the public comment form.

“I feel our water rights are in danger from this,” he said, citing concerns about methane seeps and possible contamination of groundwater. He urged the natural-gas companies to use horizontal drilling to reach their leases under the steep roadless area.

Bayfield Mayor James Harmon also urged the task force not to allow drilling in the HDs, and supported the use of alternative energies instead. “Woody Guthrie didn’t write, ‘This land is made for industry’,” he said, quoting a popular song.

But Christi Zeller, executive director of the La Plata County Energy Council, a consortium of energy producers and service providers, did not want restrictions placed on roadless areas that would hamper oil and gas development.

She said all roadless areas should remain open for multiple use. “Any further restrictions on natural-gas development in the HD Mountains will constrain the supply of natural gas for consumers and run contrary to existing leases,” she said.

She said restrictions would cause “this valuable resource to be left in the ground.”

Roadless or wilderness?

“Roadless is de facto wilderness,” she said, a theme that was repeated by several others. “We do not support the concept of roadless identification.” However, officials with the publiclands agencies said there is a definite distinction between a roadless area and a wilderness area.

Mark Stiles, San Juan National Forest supervisor, explained that of the 1.9 million acres of land in the San Juan National Forest, approximately 415,000 acres are in designated Wilderness Areas, where motorized and mechanized uses (such as bicycles) are forbidden.

The term “roadless,” in contrast, is just a description and does not delineate how an area should be managed or what uses should be allowed. That is what the task force is trying to decide.

On the San Juan, approximately half a million acres have been tentatively inventoried as roadless. Such areas are usually at least 5,000 acres or greater, Stiles said, and contain no authorized roads wider than 50 inches or built for full-sized vehicles.

However, other motorized vehicles such as snowmobiles and ATVs may be allowed, as well as mechanized vehicles such as bicycles, Stiles said. “You can have snowmobiles, oil and gas development, timber harvest, mining, things like that,” he said.

Statistics provided by the agency say that 44 percent of the roadless inventory is open to snomobiles, and onethird has motorized trails.

Thurman Wilson, assistant San Juan Public Lands Center manager, explained that the most recent survey done by the San Juan National Forest, which is working on a new management plan, found that about 18 percent of currently roadless areas are under a type of management prescription where new roads are likely to be built.

However, Stiles said, “Most of the 32 roadless areas inventoried so far, it appears, will continue to be managed in a way to minimize disturbance.”

A $10 billion backlog

Many of the speakers at the Dec. 9 meeting, however, weren’t content to sit back and hope that roadless areas remain that way. They urged the task force to manage the state’s areas as they would have been managed under the 2001 Clinton Roadless Rule, which essentially closed 58.5 million acres of national-forest land across the country to road-building. President Bush rescinded that rule and said it was up to the states to decide how to manage their roadless areas, so Colorado created the task force to make recommendations to the governor.

The Clinton roadless rule vs. Bush’s state petitioning rule

In the final days of his administration in January 2001, President Clinton signed a rule that virtually halted road-building, logging and development on 58.5 million acres of national-forest lands considered worthy of special protection because of endangered species or sensitive habitats.

The rule was immediately controversial, and at least nine lawsuits were filed against it. About 97 percent of the affected land lies in 12 states, all in the West. The 58.5 million acres constitutes nearly one-third of the 191 million acres managed by the Forest Service nationwide.

Clinton’s Roadless Area Conservation Rule prohibited road construction and road reconstruction on the affected lands, but made exceptions for measures to protect human health or safety from imminent dangers such as fires or floods; for certain federal highway projects; for mineral developments on existing leases; and for resource protection or restoration.

Logging for commodity purposes was likewise banned, but harvesting of small-diameter timber was allowed if it would improve certain roadless-area characteristics; improve threatened or endangered species habitat; or reduce the risk of catastrophic wildfires.

President Bush, who initially claimed to support the roadless rule, eventually revoked it, replacing it with a process allowing individual governors to help design roadless plans specific to their own state. States were given 18 months to petition the federal government with a roadless proposal.

If a governor does not make a petition to be involved, the task of deciding the lands’ management will fall to the Forest Service. Petitions must be submitted by November 2006.

A federal advisory committee will have 90 days to review completed petitions and advise the U.S. Department of Agriculture, which oversees the Forest Service. The USDA has six months to decide whether to accept each petition and begin notice and comment rule-making. The state-specific plans will be subject to public review and National Environmental Policy Act analysis.

The Secretary of Agriculture makes all final decisions on the rules.

La Plata County Commissioner Wally White, who said he was speaking only for himself, told the task force that “the ongoing attack on public lands by the current administration is really inexcusable.”

He said 90 percent of the comments concerning the Clinton Roadless Rule from Colorado were in favor of preserving roadless areas, and added that because the U.S. Forest Service already has a $10 billion road-maintenance backlog nationwide, it makes no sense to build new roads on national forests.

Montezuma County Commissioner Gerald Koppenhafer, however, had a different view.

“I’m glad these issues are back in the hands of the local people,” he said. “I think the people here can make these decisions a lot better than somebody in Washington.” He said the county’s other commissioners concur.

Koppenhafer said one of his concerns about roadless areas was how grazing permittees would be allowed to manage their stock ponds.

“If they have a water development in that roadless area, will they be able to go in and clean that pond?” he asked. “If you restrict it so much they have to go through a long-term process (to be allowed to clean the pond) — there’s a short window of time when it’s dry.”

‘Heart and soul’

Koppenhafer’s concerns appeared to be in the minority at the meeting, however, as a motley assortment of environmentalists, hunters and recreationists expressed support for keeping new roads out of the areas in question.

Mike Murphy, owner of T Bar M Outfitters of Durango, said he wants to “maintain the status quo” for land management.

“There are 112 permitted outfitters on the San Juan National Forest, and every one of the San Juan roadless areas is important to them,” he said. “The viability of nearly every outfitting business depends on roadless areas. The people that outfitters serve want to get away from roads. To us these areas represent the heart and soul of this country.”

He added that studies show that as road densities increase, numbers of mature bull elk fall, and he spoke of the unhappiness and frustration hunters experience when they can’t kill a trophy animal.

Murphy also said there are 2,711 miles of system roads on the San Juan National Forest and 1,033 miles of unmaintained roads, many of which are illegal. The current maintenance backlog is $7 million, he said.

“Why build new roads to scar our forests when we are incapable of caring for our nearly 3,000 miles of existing roads?” Murphy asked.

Joe Griffith, representing the Colorado Mountain Club, which includes aficionados of the Colorado Rocky Mountains, said he strongly supports the preservation of roadless areas.

“We here in the West value our public lands for their wildness and their beauty,” he said. “They are also of enormous economic importance.” He said the lands’ value for recreation and tourism “far exceeds what we would receive from extraction, mining and logging.”

He lamented the “draconian budget cuts” public lands have undergone in recent years and said volunteer efforts cannot begin to make up for a shortage of agency personnel.

Jim Goodyear, northeast assistant regional manager for the state Division of Wildlife, did not voice an opinion on how roadless areas should be managed, but noted that when a road is put in, it causes a change in habitat.

“It either fragments, contaminates or eliminates it,” Goodyear said. Among other things, roads help spread noxious weeds and can kill or isolate wild animals.

Being selfish?

But Jay Paul Brown of the Colorado Woolgrowers Association said no restrictions on road-building should be put on the areas. “Selfishly, as a rancher, I’d just as soon there weren’t any more roads,” he said. “We pack everything in on mules and so on. But we need to look further than that.”

He said new roads might be needed for reasons of national security, as well as for thinning trees, water development or weed control. Local publiclands managers should make decisions, with public input, about whether new roads are needed, he said.

Sid Snyder, a Montezuma County rancher, agreed. “As more people come onto the forest you need to have a place for them to go,” he said. “We don’t like more people coming here, but we ain’t going to be able to stop them.”

The need for more places for recreation was echoed by Bill Shaw, representing off-highway vehicle users.

“The San Juans have become a major draw, attracting recreationists from all over the world,” Shaw said. “A large portion of those dollars comes from OHV recreation.”

He said a Colorado State Parks survey found that 49 percent of trail users in Colorado are motorized users, a statistic other speakers questioned. Roadless areas constitute roughly 29 percent of the San Juan National Forest, wilderness areas another 23 percent, and special-use areas 3 percent, he said.

“Closing these areas to motorized (uses) would mean closing 55 percent of the forest to 49 percent of the users,” he said.

Instead, there should be more trails, particularly loop trails, built to accommodate OHV users, Shaw said.

Looking for a compromise

But Michael Cochrane of the San Juan Citizens Alliance pointed out that many roadless areas contain trails for motorized uses. In addition, he noted, control of wildfires is allowed in roadless areas, as is grazing.

Pete Turner of Durango said the task force should “look 30 years down the road,” when population pressures will be intensifying. “Roadless acts as a buffer to wilderness,” he said. “Without roadless areas we’ll have to have permits just to get into wilderness areas.”

And Jim Fitzgerald, a former Fort Lewis College professor who lives in the HDs, said that “great big places” quickly become small when roads are put in.

He told the task-force members they will be pressed to come up with a compromise saying that roads should be allowed in at least some of Colorado’s areas, so multinational corporations can make short-term profits.

“No compromise!” he urged.

The task force will be having more public meetings around the state in coming months. The next one is scheduled for Friday, Jan. 6, in Pueblo. The group is also meeting monthly to discuss its findings, but Pearson of the San Juan Citizens Alliance said he doesn’t think that’s enough.

“I don’t think the task force has really grappled with how much work this is going to require,” he said in an interview.

“They’re only meeting for three or four hours once a month. That isn’t enough to deal with the issue.”

Published in January 2006

Fear and loathing in Colorado: A cat’s view

By Hunter S. Catson

(As told to Katharhynn Heidelberg)

Your life can change in an instant— especially when it’s pretty much dependent on the good will of other creatures.

You probably don’t think a cat could comprehend that, but I do. When you’ve had as much time behind bars to reflect on things as I have, you can’t avoid comprehension. I understand that I used to have a home, where people took care of me. I was used to the food they gave me, the comfort, the playtime and the welcome pats on the head. I was used to answering to the name they gave me, Hunter. I was a tame cat, a good kitty, but now, I am just sad. You see, one day, my people left their home, and when they left…they left me, too.

I don’t know if they just suddenly forgot they had me; if they wanted to take me along and simply couldn’t find me, then couldn’t come back (oh please, please, let it be that! The alternative is unbearable!), but in the end, it didn’t matter. I had nothing. I waited outside the door every day, for a while, hoping. Surely, the female would come out, fill my empty dish, pick me up and hug me like she used to do. Surely, I’d soon be inside and warm — a fur coat only goes so far when the temps sink below zero, and as has been remarked, some things are hard to do when you are only a very small animal.

I lived up to my name, though — didn’t have a choice. Still, there are some things that hurt worse than an empty belly, and I went through them all in the next few weeks. The doubt. The fear. And growing anger. What had I done to merit this?

Then there was the ninny next door, who took five freakin’ days to figure out that I’d been dumped like a piece of decrepit furniture. She left me food twice a day, and warm water in the mornings, so I condescended to grant her this interview. Still…five freakin’ days. I could’ve died in that time.

What do people think, Hunter-cat? she’d ask, while I butted my head against her hand, desperate for her to just pick me up and take me inside. There was talk of something called a “lease” that somehow meant she couldn’t, and her own cat, whose answer to “can’t we all just get along?” is apparently a resounding “no!”

I’ll tell ya what people think: They don’t, at least, they don’t think properly. They’ve got this crazy idea that because a cat tends to be more individualistic than a dog, it means a cat is some kind of independent bad-ass that can overcome being left alone in the cold and the dark. But I am a felis domesticus. DOMESTICUS. Get it? I, and all the other cats on whom this horrible fate has been inflicted through such gross ignorance, fare little better than would an abandoned human 2-year-old. I am fundamentally helpless in the face of the elements, dogs and other predators, cars, disease and starvation.

No, for optimal survival, I must rely on you. I don’t mean to complain. And I understand that the ninny next door did her best, but I loathe her. I’d just grown to trust her when she turned on me, grabbed me, shoved me in a crate, put me in a car and drove me to a strange place, where I was put into a cage.

There are other cats here. They tell me I was lucky; that this place doesn’t practice euthanasia. I don’t know what that is. I don’t want to. And the bright spot is, we are well cared for, loved, and we get to leave our cages to play.

The people here are wonderful, but sadly, they seem to make up the minority of your species. And, how long can they tolerate being forced to solve problems created by the irresponsibility of others?

I am a cat. I like to roam a little bit. I like fresh air. I like activity. I want to be free! But I need your protection, too, and I’m praying for a human willing and able to provide the right balance. God bless.

Hunter, a thick-furred gray/ brown tabby with white chest and muzzle, and beautiful, clear green eyes, resides at the Second Chance Humane Society shelter in Ridgway. He’d be glad to instead reside at your warm and loving home; call 970-626-CARE.

Katharhynn Heidelberg writes from Montrose.

Published in Katharhynn Heidelberg

The pain of being fit

I have never been much of a “gym” person, preferring instead to stay fit due to my lifestyle rather than scheduled workouts. But, in recent years (those surrounding the age of 40), my lifestyle isn’t keeping me quite as healthy as it used to.

My back still gets a workout every time I lift the laundry basket full of wet towels, my right arm is fairly buff from scrubbing the toilet and I’ve managed to remain thin thanks to too much coffee and no time to eat a decent meal. But somehow, I don’t feel quite as good as I did when I lived in the mountains, carrying a 60-pound pack and hiking all day every day. Surprise, surprise.

So, I recently took a good look at my body and my health — both mental and physical — and decided that I need to make some improvements — it ain’t happening through osmosis. I would like to balance out the muscles in my arms.

I also realize that at a certain age, things do begin to descend and perhaps a bit of working out might hold them up a little better. (I also recently had shoulder surgery, which requires physical therapy, so that gives me a great excuse for going to the gym.)

I like to go when there is hardly anyone there — I panic that I might actually see someone I know and that they will see how pathetically unfit I really am. So I go when everyone else is either at work or still asleep. My first couple of times, I got on the elliptical machine, started my brisk trot at Level 1 and wore myself out within 8 minutes and 33 seconds. I then lifted 5 pounds, did four stomach crunches and took a good long look at the leg machines.

Too embarrassed to leave right away and have the employees see how pathetically short my workout was, I took a 20-minute shower, painted my toenails and read a chapter in my book.

When I finally strolled out of the locker room looking considerably more buff, I gave the gal at the counter the stiffnecked nod of a serious weightlifter, then ran out to my car and drove to the Silver Bean for coffee and a burrito.

Now, after a couple of months, I am more relaxed about going in. I bought a lock — a sure sign of commitment — and a CD player. I’m quite serious about my workouts. I still try to go when no one else is there, but this isn’t always possible, like today. Although I do handle myself a bit more confidently these days.

So this morning, I strolled in (still with the serious weightlifter’s look) put in a rockin’ CD, and practically ran up the stairs to my favorite elliptical machine. I hopped on, pressed “play” and began my imaginary trek to Everest Base camp. I’ve found that with the right music, I could go all day on those dang machines. As I was hoofing it up to 18,000 feet I got so excited that I actually started singing out loud. Wondering why everyone had turned to stare, I realized how ridiculous I was and tried desperately to cover my foible. I raised my arm to wipe the sweat off my forehead, hit the cord on my player and sent it flying across the room, between the Greg LaMonde bikes, disc landing a good five feet away from player.

I just wanted to ensure that each and every person there caught me being a fool.

I did exercise for a good amount of time, but half of that time was spent checking out the other people (especially women), looking to see how much they lift, how many reps they do and wondering which machines gave them the amazing muscles they all seem to have. Then I’d take a look down at the paunch hanging over my pajama pants and the scrawny arms sticking out of my t-shirt and wonder, “Is it just too late — have I already slid so far downhill that I might as well give it up right this second?”

Of course, at the same age, my husband looks better than ever. Even my friends are making comments. He’s thin, fit, tanned and full of energy. And, not having given birth, he still has some elasticity in his midsection. It’s just not fair, is it?

So, do I still keep trying? Yes. Do I still hold out hope? A bit. Do I feel ancient? Absolutely. But, I bought a 20-punch pass, so I will go to the gym at least 19 more times before quitting.

If you see me there, please act as if you don’t recognize me and if I sing out loud, just ignore me.

Suzanne Strazza writes from Mancos.


Published in Suzanne Strazza

This just in: Bush administration acted illegally!

With all the attention drawn by the ongoing CIA leak case and the indictments of Dick Cheney’s brain, Scooter Libby, another unethical and illegal action by the White House has sparked little comment.

The federal General Accountability Office ruled in October that money spent by the Bush administration to buy positive publicity for its programs was illegally spent.

Disgraced columnist Armstrong Williams, the fake opinionist who was revealed last winter to be a paid mouthpiece of the administration, says he may give back some of his ill-gotten gains to the federal government now that the GAO has ruled that the money was spent illegally to produce “covert propaganda.”

The key word here is some. The part he plans to keep – which also comes from the federal taxes he rails against as excessive – is money he earned honestly, he argues. (Or sold his soul for, at least.)

In fact, the belated gesture, should it actually come about, would be merely another calculated step in William’s hypocritical attempt to rehabilitate himself – as in, I sure would like to get back my credibility . . . and my syndicated column. (And never mind that I used it to promote a political agenda for the old payola even while pretending to be an independent thinker who was objectively weighing the pros and cons.)

As I recounted in an earlier column, Williams was paid nearly a quarter-million dollars to heap praise on Bush’s No Child Left Behind Act.

In January Williams claimed in his own defense that he would have done these things without being paid a nickel because NCLB is something he deeply believes in. But this explanation is belied by his own words, unless he’s had a Road to Damascus conversion since he wrote them. A big fan of federal vouchers to pay for kids attending private and religious schools, Williams had severely criticized the final legislation that Bush signed because the provision for vouchers had been taken out of it.

“By letting vouchers fall by the wayside and by throwing more money at public schools than any president has previously imagined, Mr. Bush scooped out the soul of his own education proposal,” Williams wrote in his syndicated column published May 16, 1991. A month later on Fox News, he said Bush had “just totally capitulated to Sen. Ted Kennedy on his education plan.”

But that was before he signed a handsome contract two years later with Ketchum, Inc., a public-relations firm hired by the Education Department to promote the law. Suddenly Williams saw the light: NCLB was good, very good, and five very positive columns about NCLB flowed from his goldcovered fingers. (And never mind that NCLB doesn’t provide for vouchers, it has more soul than a Ray Charles album!)

But Williams still can’t come clean. He’s now trying to defend his behavior by explaining he simply wears different hats, and this was just a business deal that his PR firm hatched with the Department of Education to produce a couple 1-minute ads, so it was perfectly legitimate. (Which raises the question of why, if everything were so proper, he wouldn’t do it again.)

He’s “negotiating” to return part of his loot, he now explains, because he didn’t really promote NCLB, as was called for in the contract, and had, in fact, asked that provision of the contract to be removed. (It wasn’t, but what the heck, he’d signed it anyway.)

“I’ve said all along that there were things that they asked me to do that was clear in the beginning that I would not do,” he told USA Today in October. (Huh? What happened to him being willing to promote the law for free because he believed in it so fervently? Were all those positive columns he wrote about it pure coincidence?)

Even the Department of Education spokeswoman admitted it was ridiculous (not to mention a lie) to deny, as the department previously had, that Williams was being paid personally, and without informing his audience, to promote NCLB.

“We’ve been saying for the past six months that this was stupid, wrong and ill-advised,” she told USA Today.

And the GAO recently concluded that the Education Department had violated federal law by paying Williams to promote Bush’s plan. A department investigator said Williams’ own reports showed that he’d promoted the Bush plan 168 times in columns and on radio and TV. (Williams now claims this is only “confusion.”)

Sen. Frank Lautenberg, a New Jersey Democrat who along with Senator Kennedy asked the GAO to investigate the matter, said “the Bush administration took taxpayer funds that should have gone toward helping kids learn and diverted it to a political propaganda campaign,” and demanded the money be returned to the Treasury.

Lautenberg has also called for fraud charges to be brought against Williams, and a Justice Department investigation is under way.

“I hope that we can put this mistake behind us,” Williams wrote in swan song after his duplicity was exposed, and at least those words are without a doubt the whole truth.

This whole issue may seem like very small potatoes in an administration that uses “covert propaganda” for far more lethal ends, such as justification for invading Iraq and killing uncounted thousands of its citizens along with 2,000 of our own kids. (Saddam has a huge arsenal of weapons of mass destruction! And he’s about to develop a nuclear capability unless we act fast! Mushroom clouds are coming! The sky is falling!) — all part of the Bush agenda for keeping American oil billionaires safe from terrorists and taxes.

And maybe it is tiny spuds, but the principle is the same:

The president’s minions keep demonstrating in myriad ways they will not hesitate to deceive the ordinary people who elected them to benefit the really important people who paid the tab for their victories.

In what now seems like a sick joke, Bush promised during his first campaign to bring honor and integrity back to a White House soiled by Bill Clinton’s tawdry sexual escapades, and enough Americans fell for it to give him an eight-year lease.

But Clinton only jollied a more-thanwilling young woman and betrayed the trust of his family.

Bush is sticking it to all of us – whether we willingly bend over or not.

David Grant Long is a resident of Cortez.

Published in David Long, December 2005

Measure would put public lands up for sale

Mining claims on public lands across the nation would be up for sale to private developers under a provision slipped into the 2006 federal budget last month.

The brief language, buried within the 830-page House spending bill, lifts the 11-year ban on selling mining claims established under the 1872 Mining Act. The net effect, environmentalists charge, could be to put public land anywhere in the nation up for sale.

“This proposal is absurd, and more people would be outraged if they knew about it,” said Dan Randolph, a coordinator with the San Juan Citizens Alliance, a Durango-based environmental group.

At press time, the bill was in conference committee, where lawmakers from the Senate and House negotiate a final bill to be sent to the President. The Senate version does not include the mining-law rewrite, and there is speculation that it will be removed before the bill is sent to George Bush.

Behind the changes are Richard Pombo, R-California, chair of the House Resources Committee, and Jim Gibbons, R-Nevada, who say it is a way to spur economic development in mining towns gone bust.

Critics charge ulterior motives, noting that Pombo is notorious in Congress for attempting to change laws in order to privatize public lands, often through the use of riders. He also is sponsoring a controversial bill to alter the Endangered Species Act [Free Press, November 2005].

If the bill is passed as is, the new law would allow the Forest Service and BLM to sell public lands with mining claims for as little as $1,000 per acre or market price, whichever is higher. Buyers would have to invest a minimum of $7,500 in mining studies on the land claimed in order to then be allowed to purchase the property.

The new law would also repeal the requirement that each claim have proven mineral requirements. Theoretically, that puts all the nation’s 350 million acres of public lands at risk for privatization, according to the National Academy of Sciences.

All House Democrats and 14 Republicans opposed the bill, but it passed the House by a vote of 217 to 215 on Nov. 18.

Congressman John Salazar (D-Colo.), and his brother, Sen. Ken Salazar, also a Colorado Democrat, have both characterized the mining-law change as a land grab for special-interest developers.

Environmentalists decry the proposed law change because it privatizes public lands and also because it removes high-impact mining and other development from public and environmental review.

“It’s not about mineral mining at all, it is about real-estate speculation and development,” Randolph charged. “We’ve been here before with Pombo’s tricky politics. A law change with such huge implications has to be a standalone bill for debate in the light of day, not slipped into a spending bill with a huge amount of other issues.”

Virtually all of Colorado’s 24 million acres of public lands could technically be up for sale if some preliminary mineral studies are completed under the new law, according to the Environmental Working Group.

Under the proposed change, existing mining claims would sell first, especially around resort areas such as Telluride and around national parks, observers predict.

According to the EWG, nationwide there are 5.7 million acres of established claims on public lands. In Colorado, 123,457 acres of current claims could be sold. Gunnison County would be most impacted by the land grab, with 22,524 acres potentially up for sale.

In a study conducted by EWG, other nearby counties with mining claims that would be immediately up for sale include Montezuma County with 227 acres situated entirely within the La Plata mountains; Dolores County, 1,024 acres along the Colorado Trail; La Plata County, 4,957 acres and San Miguel County, 6,533 acres.

Once limited studies are complete, the land can be sold, but there are no requirements that the land be mined at all, according to Pombo’s proposal.

The newly privatized land could then be sold for other development — from strip mines, logging operations and oil exploration to malls, condos, ski areas and luxury homes.

The new industry growth would not be subject to standard reviews by the National Environmental Protection Act (NEPA) because it would be removed from public ownership. And it would leave local communities without a say in land management and use.

Pombo’s supporters argue that selling off some public lands would be a way to reduce the projected $1.6 trillion federal deficit by $158 million over five years. However, critics maintain that his plan is a giveaway because it does not include mining companies paying royalties to the federal government for minerals extracted.

Oil and coal companies, in contrast, chip in up to 12 percent in royalties.

Pombo told the Washington Post that “it is important that more (public) land become private property. The environmental groups want the federal government to own everything.”

A more moderate mining-law update proposed by Rep. Nick J. Rahall (DW. Va.) puts an 8 percent royalty requirement for mining companies working on public lands, which would raise $350 million over five years for the federal government. The mining industry has told Congress it does not oppose a fair royalty payment.


Published in December 2005

A party animal, not a donkey in disguise

You’ve probably heard the buzz about Mark Larson, the state representative from the 59th District.

Although he’s a Republican and has been for decades, people hint that he isn’t . . . not really. “A very moderate Republican” is how he’s often described, or “a centrist,” or even a closet Democrat who stuck an R after his name in order to garner votes in a conservative area.

But Larson, who’s winding up his fourth and final two-year stint in the lower house under the state’s termlimit law, maintains he is a traditional Republican, just not the sort that currently occupy the White House and Congress.

STATE REPRESENTATIVE MARK LARSON

Larson recently announced his candidacy for the Sixth District Senate seat now occupied by Sen Jim Isgar (D-Hesperus), who is widely expected to run for another term in 2006 but hasn’t formally announced.

“I may seem, in this more or less neocon environment, to be an anomaly,” Larson said recently, “but I haven’t changed in the 35 years that I’ve been around and voting.

“My philosophy goes back to my grandfather, who was a Texas oil man in Fort Worth,” Larson said. “He was the treasurer of the Texas Pacific Oil Co. and one of the first drillers in Ranger, Texas, when they discovered oil years ago. He was a Republican and one who was very proud of the environmental role that he played. I remember going out to projects with him and him telling me, ‘Look at how we are able to exploit the mineral but we’re also taking care of the environment as well’.”

Larson said his grandfather also stood up for minority rights at a time when there were still issues of segregation and discrimination in Texas. “He was always so kind to everybody. He practiced Big Tent in his life. He had a huge impact on why I am a Republican.”

Larson said he believes in caring for the environment and doesn’t think that policy is at odds with historic Republican values.

“Teddy Roosevelt created the national parks; Richard Nixon was probably the single most environmental president in the history of the country. He did the Clean Air Act, the NEPA process, ESA (Endangered Species Act), EPA. He genuinely did some good things that unfortunately we’re now seeing start to be turned back.”

Larson said the people he represents don’t want environmental destruction.

“I guarantee there’s no Republican that I represent that wants to breathe dirty air or drink dirty water or not take care of the environment for the future of their grandchildren.

“When we start looking at Republican values, if people are judging me as a candidate on that, they need to go back and look at where our party’s been historically,” he said.

“When I say I want a limited role of government in my life I mean that wholesale — I don’t want to have my personal opinions put into the law.” He added that true Republican values don’t include having “the government in my body or my bedroom.”

Too much federal power?

Certainly Larson supports the traditional GOP value of states’ rights. He is outspoken about the federal government’s hubris in dictating policy to the states.

“Look at NCLB (No Child Left Behind),” he said. “An unfunded mandate. They’re only giving us half the dollars they said they would. Take the Individual Disabilities Education Act. They promised us 40 percent (funding) and we’re at 19 percent now and they keep ratcheting down.”

Then there’s highway funding. It infuriates Larson that the federal government orders states to comply with its dictates, such as lowering the legal threshold for drunk driving to a blood alcohol content of 0.8 percent, under the threat of withholding highway funds.

“They tell us we’re either at point 8 or they’ll keep back our own tax dollars,” he said. “What hubris.”

Larson blames some of the rise in federal power on the 17th Amendment to the Constitution, ratified in 1913, which changed the way U.S. senators are chosen. Previously, state legislatures appointed them; now, of course, they are elected directly by the voters.

Although the new way was more democratic, it did mean candidates had to cater to hundreds of thousands of people instead of just a few, requiring expensive campaigns. Larson thinks the old way was better.

“You now have the House and Senate both pandering to the voters instead of listening to states’ rights issues, so we’ve gone down that federalism highway of unfunded mandates and holding the states hostage if they don’t do what the federal government wants them to do.”

If Senators were still appointed by the state legislatures, he said, “we probably would be sending some of those people back to their day jobs.” He would like to return to that system, though he knows it’s unlikely.

“It would give some teeth to the 10th Amendment,” he said. (The 10th Amendment says powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the states.)

His belief in states’ rights has led Larson to support the right to obtain medical marijuana, because that is what Colorado voters decided in 2000. However, the federal government has fought the states’ right to develop their own drug policies.

“They have the audacity to say, when Colorado passes a medical marijuana initiative, that ‘Congress knows better’,” he said. “I don’t think Coloradans are ready yet for the federal government to run the state.”

Losing the Drug War

Whether marijuana should be legalized entirely is another question, but one Larson is willing to consider.

“We’ve lost the War on Drugs,” he said flatly. “Drugs as a whole we need to treat differently. I supported a bill that came out three years ago, that unfortunately was vetoed, that was going to treat first-time non-violent non-distribution (drug) offenses as a medical condition and require that person to stay in house arrest, forcing them to go through treatment instead of putting them in a jail cell. That really is not solving any problems.”

He also would like to see the use of drug courts, like one in La Plata County, expanded, because the current system isn’t working. Methamphetamine use is burgeoning, he said, and drug use is now involved in six out of 10 crimes.

“We’re going to have to treat this differently or prisons will be the No. 1 expense in the state,” he said. “What’s the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Let’s get some different results by doing drug courts and putting the responsibility back on the drug user.”

Legalizing pot, considered by many to be a benign substance in comparison to meth, opiates or even alcohol, is another option to at least be considered, Larson said.

“You’re looking at a society that still thinks it’s OK to drink and drive, and at the same time we are saying that somebody who is going to smoke marijuana and stay home and make themselves fat is (a problem) of a larger magnitude. Marijuana obviously is a lesser-impact drug and people are saying, ‘Why are we treating it the same as methamphetamine?’

“I have no problem being a voice of reason when it comes to saying that we have lost the Drug War and should start looking at alternative solutions.”

Budget woes

Larson says listening to the voters is one thing that differentiates him from many other politicians. He lays claim to “setting the standard for true representative government” as far as keeping in touch with constituents.

“My reputation and my history of service has been stellar, I think, for my district, and I want to continue that,” he said. “I respond to all e-mail in a timely fashion, I answer every letter and I return all phone calls.” He added that even though the legislature isn’t currently in session, he still gets 80 to100 e-mails from citizens daily.

“I don’t worry about status or stature — anybody with a problem that calls, I will champion their issue.”

Another way he’s different from a stereotypical politician, Larson said, is that he’s up-front about his views.

“We may disagree (on an issue) and I may tell you no because I don’t think that’s the right way to go, but at least you’ll know where I stand,” he said. “I don’t tell people what I think they want to hear.”

One issue on which Larson has been outspoken is the Taxpayer’s Bill of Rights, or TABOR, Amendment, passed in 1992. He was likewise vocal in supporting Referenda C and D on last month’s ballot, two measures to help counteract some of the limitations of TABOR; C passed but D did not.

C’s passage will ease the state’s fiscal woes but won’t solve the basic problem, TABOR itself, Larson said.

“We fixed only one thing in TABOR that could be structural and that was the rachet-down effect,” he said. (Referendum C allows the state to keep and spend all its revenues for the next five years rather than being forced to turn some back.) “All we did was ask for a five-year timeout.

“We did not fix the problem for those who think TABOR is a problem,” he added. “We still are going to have to reconcile the differences between Amendment 23 and the Taxpayer’s Bill of Rights.” (Passed by voters five years ago to shore up the traditionally niggardly funding of public education, Amendment 23 mandates annual increases in education spending regardless of what the overall revenue picture may be, while TABOR dictates that state government return to taxpayers any revenue in excess of a formula involving population increase and the perenially rising cost of living.)

Larson said legislators need to put something on the ballot that will reform the state’s conflicting budgetary laws all at once.

“We’ll never see the voters revoke the ability to vote on tax increases, but if we offer them a comprehensive tax package and say we need to look at certain aspects of TABOR, here’s what to do about TABOR, Amendment 23, Gallagher (an amendment that boosts business property taxes), I think they might consider it.”

‘A different perspective’

Larson was disappointed by the failure of Referendum D, a measure that would have allowed the state to borrow up to $2.1 billion for roads, fire and police pensions, and capital-construction projects.

“The voters shot down D and I think it was because they don’t like the implications of long-term debt,” he said, “but I don’t think there’s anybody today who wishes they hadn’t bought a house 10 years ago and had kept renting (instead).

“I don’t think people understand infrastructure is not a pay-as-you go.” He said, although many citizens do understand budgetary and economic issues, there’s a sizable group that has an overly simplistic view.

“There are people who understand the immensity of the problem and that we’re going to have to pay for it and it’s not going to be paid for in a year,” he said. “But there is also the group that says they’ve never seen a CDOT crew that they like and they think they could do better efficiencies in government than we’re doing.

“There are people who call me and say they pay their taxes so they want their road fixed. I’ll find out where they live and put a pencil to the abstract you get from the county assessor’s office and say, ‘Based on your assessed valuation you paid $19 or $20 into the highways for the county last year, so why don’t we have the county give you your 20 bucks back and you can do the best you can with those dollars?’ And it kind of puts it in a different perspective.”

Going fishing

Dealing with the complexities of the state budget may seem like a far cry from Larson’s former occupation as a restaurateur. He owned and operated the M&M Truck Stop south of Cortez for 22 years; although it sits vacant now at Highway 491 and County Road G, it’s still a local landmark.

But running a business with a hundred employees gave him plenty of experience in juggling a budget, dealing with people and working hard, Larson said.

Still, he never thought of himself as a politician until others urged him to run for the state House in 1998. Larson took a three-day ride on his motorcycle, did some thinking, and decided to give it a try.

“I intended to go up and serve and then go into private life, but I have found that applying what I did in business to what I’m seeing happening in the legislature, it’s too important. I feel I need to stay and be that voice for business, for the little guy.”

Larson said he has no ambitions beyond the state Senate. “I have no desire to run for governor or Congress. I don’t want to face the scrutiny and put my family through that. I want to run for (state) Senate and then go fishing.”

In the lull before a new legislative session and the 2006 election, Larson is reading Christy Whitman’s book, “It’s My Party Too.” Whitman, a former New Jersey governor, was briefly head of the EPA before she resigned in the face of political impotence in dealing with an administration that has displayed a propensity for relaxing or erasing federal safeguards of the environment and public lands.

“It’s a good book — her points are some of the issues I’ve faced of late from people,” Larson said. “I’m not sure the government we’re seeing in D.C. is representative of the Republican Party in Southwest Colorado.”

Published in December 2005

Low fish numbers on the Dolores River prompt concern

Operators juggle needs of boaters, irrigators

If you happen to be a trout or a native fish living in the Dolores River, you’re probably feeling pretty lonely. Fish numbers continued to decline despite increased river flows this year, according to Colorado Division of Wildlife fishery biologist Mike Japhet.

Japhet has been studying fish in the Dolores River for 20 years and recent trends in trout and native fish populations are alarming, he told participants in the Dolores River Dialogue at a meeting in November.

MEASURING FISH ON THE DOLORES

The DRD is a diverse group of farmers, boaters, environmentalists, scientists, and government officials dedicated to finding better ways to operate the Dolores River.

Using electro-fishing and other survey techniques, Japhet and other DOW biologists recorded the number and mass of fish in the Dolores River from McPhee Dam to the confluence with the San Miguel River. They found that since 1995, the number of trout between McPhee Dam and Dove Creek has been in decline, despite the DOW’s ongoing effort to stock trout in the river.

At one time, the 11-mile section of river between McPhee Dam and Bradfield Bridge was classified as goldmedal fishing water, Japhet said. The long-term average and goal for trout biomass in this section of water is about 30 pounds per acre. In 2004, DOW measured 10 pounds of trout biomass per acre; this year, they found twice that. However, Japhet added, “For comparison, the trout biomass in the Animas River’s gold-medal waters is 120 pounds per acre.”

In order to reach the goal of 30 pounds per acre, Japhet reported, the DOW stocks the Dolores River with 10,000 rainbow trout and 10,000 native cutthroat trout fingerlings every year. They will continue these efforts with greater emphasis on the Colorado River native cutthroat trout.

The low flows in the river during the past few years have obviously decimated the trout populations, which have a long way to go to reach goldmedal status once again, he said.

In addition, native fish including the flannelmouth sucker, bluehead sucker, and roundtail chub — all small nongame species listed as “sensitive species” on the San Juan Public Lands and t h r o u g h o u t Region 2 of the U.S. Forest Service — are down to “precarious” numbers, according to Japhet. Sensitive species are those that are not yet listed as endangered under the Endangered Species Act but are recognized as in decline.

The roundtail’s historic habitat is around and below the dam on the Dolores, but recently “we haven’t really picked them up anywhere above Bradfield Bridge,” said David Graf, DOW regional water specialist, by phone from Grand Junction. “They’ve been declining.”

Long-term surveys over the past 10 years for the river section between Dove Creek and Big Gypsum launch site recorded these species as “common.” But surveys this year found no flannelmouth suckers, one bluemouth sucker and only a few roundtail chub.

The two suckers have historically been found along the San Juan River and its tributaries. The suckers are still common in the lower San Juan , but not in the tributaries, such as the Mancos and Dolores rivers, according to Japhet.

Graf agreed. “The two suckers are not doing well in the Dolores,” he said. “The general trend is kind of down.”

Furthermore, Japhet said, surveyors noticed only small-sized fish, indicating an unstable population without any large fish.

Finally, Japhet said he had observed green sunfish, a predator of roundtail chub, for the first time in the river. All these observations raise grave concerns about the future of native fish in the Dolores River.

It’s possible one or more of the species may be listed as federally threatened or endangered, which would prompt major regulatory changes.

Graf said the Colorado River native cutthroat trout was recently proposed for listing but the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service decided that measure wasn’t warranted yet, partly because of aggressive conservation efforts being undertaken. A tri-state agreement among Colorado, Wyoming and Utah signed in 1999 outlines strategies to recover the native cutthroat.

However, there’s concern that the roundtail chub may also be proposed for listing. “The roundtail has got the attention of people, but it has not been formally petitioned,” Graf said.

Colorado has entered into a six-state conservation agreement to try to recover the chub and the two suckers.

The historic drought certainly contributed to bringing the native fish to an all-time low, Japhet said.

He also speculated that the crash in fish populations on the Dolores may be related to river operations and low release levels last March.

“These low flows increase water temperatures and signal to the fish to get ready to spawn, kind of like fruit trees blossoming in the spring,” he explained. “Then, in April we starting spilling a whole load of cold water, messing up the fishes’ spawning, just like a late freeze ruining the blossom set.”

One possible solution, Japhet said, would be to better mimic natural river flows. He said one-quarter of all natural river flow occurs in March. His proposal would increase release levels in March to 100-200 cubic feet per second to keep the water temperatures down and delay spawning.

At the November DRD meeting, Kent Ford, a boater from Durango, voiced support for the proposal, saying he believes boaters “would be willing to give up some of the spill to keep fish alive in the river.”

 


Published in December 2005

Images reveal bonds between photography and archaeology

The wall cuts horizontally across the photograph. It has vertical holes for an entrance and window. But glass, door, and ceiling have disintegrated

It’s a desolate wall. Still, a presence clings to it. People depended on its adobe long ago to shelter them. It’s a universal wall. It might have been part of an Irish cottage, or an inn on the high road through the English moors. It happens to be part of the old army hospital.

Its image, entitled “Army Hospital, Fort Laramie, Wyoming,” hangs in a 90-piece black-and-white photography exhibit entitled “Presence Within Abandonment: Photography, Archaeology, and Western Historic Sites,” at the Anasazi Heritage Center near Dolores.

Thomas Carr, photographer and staff archaeologist for the Colorado Historical Society, put the show together from work he’s shot since coming to the West from North Carolina 11 years ago. Photography and archaeology share a rich and common history, he says. One emerged in part because of the other.

Archaeology came first, in Renaissance Europe. “But there wasn’t really a scientific approach,” he explains in a phone conversation from his Denver office.

“People were collecting objects for curio cabinets,” Those antiquity collectors also concentrated on large things, buildings and trappings of kings, not common people and small objects. Focus on small detail came with the beginnings of photography. “The archaeology we know came about because of the invention of the camera obscura and the camera lucida,” says Carr. The camera obscura projected an image onto a wall using a pin hole, and a lens.

The camera lucida cast light onto a table by combining a prism with a lens. Using these tools, antiquities hunters could trace accurate images of sites.

They could also realize that the position of objects at a dig had importance to understanding the excavation, and discover the need to capture the image made by a camera obscure or camera lucida. Not all antiquities hunters could trace a good likeness of a site.

Inventors went to work. When Louis Jacques Daguerre created the daguerreotype in 1839, and Fox Talbot and John Herschel ushered in modern black-and-white photography a few years later, the young science had the perfect tool at its disposal.

Now archaeologists could make images of sites without drawing. They could see many details they had missed. As papers, developers, and films got better, they could also interpret what they saw. By the end of the 1800s, a body of artistic photography grew from more and more disciplined study at historical sites.

But now, scientists were intent on separating archaeology from antiquities- hunting. They stressed disciplined digging and documenting of finds, and had no time for interpretive photography, By the turn of the 20th Century, archeologists used photos strictly to record their work

Meantime, artists found photography. They carried on the tradition of interpreting historical places.

Eugene Aget prowled Paris looking for landmarks. In the United States, Edward Weston searched for Indian ruins. By mid-century, photographers like Paul Caponigro and Fay Goodwin used archaeological sites to express their personal feelings about the past.

Today, Carr continues the tradition of blending archaeology and photography In the archaeological field, he snaps pictures of unearthed objects to show their relationships to each other, the strata in which he’s found them, and a host of other scientific things.

After work, he employs art photography to make a personal statement about history, using Aget and Caponigro’s work for inspiration.

“We need to get in touch with our roots in the arts and sciences,” he says.

He came to that conclusion in college. A photography student, he volunteered to work on an archaeological site one summer. The experience so fascinated him that he changed his major to archaeology.

“Presence Within Abandonment: Photography, Archaeology, and Western Historic Sites” makes strong statements about the past.

“Grand Staircase, Hotel Meade, Banack , Montana” presents steps that seem to wait for someone to come down. Unlike “Army Hospital Fort Laramie , Wyoming,” this picture suggests people have visited the abandoned hotel recently.

Carr confirms that tourists can still go inside the 140-yearold building that served as the capitol of the Montana Territory, as well as a hotel and brothel in the 1860s. “Not that long ago, t h o u g h (Banack) is now a ghost town.”

Another shot, “Hovenweep Castle, Utah,” examines how native people used natural materials to build their homes, blending them neatly into the landscape.

Carr includes captions with his photos. The achingly beautiful “Ludlow Massacre Site, Las Animas County, Colorado” becomes chilling when the viewer learns the story of the killing.

During a a strike by coal miners in 1914, soldiers burned the tent city in which they were living near Ludlow, Colo. Barricaded in a cellar under one of the tents, women and children perished. Their deaths helped change American labor laws.

For Carr, photography serves as a metaphor for human existence. He points out that the caption for “Army Hospital” explains that the building sits atop an ancient cemetery dating to the time traders used Fort Laramie.

He shoots carefully, selecting films, exposures, development, and printing paper to evoke just the feeling a place evokes to him.

“To me the arts and sciences should be linked,” he muses.

Published in Arts & Entertainment, December 2005

Pat Robertson: A poor example of a Christian

Woe betide Dover, Pa., because to hear Pat Robertson tell it, it’s truly godforsaken.

Last month, Dover became ground zero in the “700 Club” founder’s self-proclaimed holy war, when its residents had the temerity to vote out eight school-board members who’d decided intelligent design theory could be taught in the schools. Pat, in his imminently rational way, said Dover had just “voted God out of its city,” so, it shouldn’t be surprised if disaster struck, in which case the residents should call on Charles Darwin. God, Robertson said later, is loving and patient, but “we can’t keep sticking our finger in His eye forever.” He also said “spiritual actions have consequences,” apparently mistaking the ballot box for the high altar.

It is time — past time — to rein in Pat Robertson, not because he’s a raging nutbag, but because he’s a bad Christian. It’s hard to see that, because he’s always presented as some sort of Uber Christian Extraordinaire, but some fellow believers do see it, and for us, his “outbursts” provoke both shudders and laughter.

For a good old case of the heebie jeebies, we’ve got Pat, Pat the Megalomaniac chattering absurdities — feminists, and witches, and Hugo Chavez, oh my! — as if he really believes them. He speaks with the charm and skill of a slick, snake-oil mountebank peddling his panaceas to the gullible. The difference between a lunatic and a charlatan, though, is important: A lunatic really believes it when he says: “Lo! God shall smite thee, thou feckless Pennsylvanians!” A charlatan, once the wagon is packed and rolling down the road, calmly counts his money. Or takes stock of the influence he has, not just on the faithful, but on the political system that serves those of many faiths.

Then of course, there are the absurdities, which have real giggle potential. What’s Pat’s deal? Does he just sit around waiting for this type of thing to happen? Doing so would give him time to rehearse the looniest possible “outburst.”

Of course, he could also have spent that time actually helping his fellow man, but I guess buying a beggar a cup of coffee; raking an old lady’s leaves, or trying to find a stray animal a home isn’t going to attract as much media attention as: “Don’t call on God, Dover! You rejected him out of your town! We can’t keep sticking our finger in God’s eye forever!”

Well, Pat, seems there’s a beam sticking out of your own eye. Perhaps you ought to look to that before picking at Dover’s motes?

Oops. Hypocrisy’s not a laughing matter. But the underlying idea of Pat’s latest spew of propaganda that masquerades as spontaneity kind of is: That Dover, by not voting as Pat would’ve liked, “rejected” God. Last I checked, God wasn’t on the Pennsylvania ballot, and it isn’t as if His existence could be proven or disproven by a majority vote of any kind, anywhere.

Another ribtickler: The idea that old Pat is somehow “in the know” concerning God’s next move. Does he have a burning bush in his yard, or is God text-messaging him?

It’s laughable, but for many Christians, it’s laughter that rings a dull echo in the pit of a churning stomach. We are, in a word, tired. We’re tired of Pat Robertson making a mockery of our faith and destroying our credibility. Also, he’s scaring the pants off us. So, Pat, listen up: God Almighty is not at your beck and call. Do not presume to know His mind, and stop invoking Him for your own ends, you blasphemous windbag.

Pat Robertson is a good Christian in the same way that a snake-oil salesman is a good doctor. He’s got all the trappings; from the fire and brimstone in the belly to a glittering stage, but his agenda has precious little to do with saving anyone.

A good Christian does not grandstand on his faith to gratify his own ego. A good Christian does not hide his hatred and bigotry and sheer, mind-boggling stupidity behind the word of God. A good Christian does not react hysterically when others challenge his beliefs — he doesn’t need to, because if those beliefs are genuine, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks. A good Christian does not pretend that God values him above others, or that he has some “special” connection; that, after all, is the domain of cult leaders.

Of course, a good Christian also doesn’t judge, which means I’m a poor one myself. But unlike Pat, I don’t pretend to be perfect.

Katharhynn Heidelberg is a journalist working in Montrose.

Published in Katharhynn Heidelberg

Wheel of Jeopardy

The television made it look so much better, and my neighbor had already bought one. Naturally, I didn’t want to be the first to purchase it, but I also didn’t want to be the last.

Then I saw the ad again and I couldn’t believe my eyes: The sale price was outrageous! It was like an invitation, an omen, a rainbow that doubles back across the sky and ends up in my own back pocket.

All I had to decide was which way to make the payments.

I’ve always been partial to rebate offers, so I seriously considered that option. What’s nice about rebates is the feeling of having a little extra cash immediately after spending too much of it, the image of money growing on trees, just dangling over your head. Whoever engineered the concept of rebates must have been an angler. In the end, though, I figured I’d just spend the rebate money on accessories, so I decided to avoid that bait.

Of course, I could just refuse the cash back altogether and use the sum as money down, which is a great way to get my hands on some money without having to reach into my actual wallet. I seriously considered the idea, but out of habit I ended up reaching for my back pocket anyway. Its flatness made me realize I’d been losing a little financial weight.

Without any money down, which I really didn’t have, the company still wanted to do business. It offered zero percent interest for the first year. I tried to figure out how much cash the interest- free deal would save me when I realized I had to know way too much about interest: how it accrued and how it compounded, how it refinanced and how much principal remained once the interest free period concluded. I guess I got distracted; I knew if I thought about finance charges much longer, it didn’t matter where I placed the decimal point. I would be the one losing interest.

But if I wanted to look at the big picture, the salesman explained, I’d have to consider my total debt, which was why he recommended consolidating my bills into one payment, which could include the price of my new purchase. The consolidation fee was just a drop in the bucket compared to the money it would save me. I looked around for a bucket and imagined me stepping into it. Consolidation. It sounded too much like consolation, and the way things were going I was going to need a little cheering up.

I thought about leasing instead of buying, but then the extended warranty wasn’t an option. I asked about renting and the salesman laughed. I asked about no payments for a full year, see if I like the thing as much as I like it right now, and if I don’t, just return it and sell it to somebody else? The salesman excused himself, pretending he heard a telephone ring. Had I considered applying for a loan from my bank? Pay the total purchase price with a loan and knock an additional 10 percent off the already rock-bottom sales price.

Supposedly, I had enough equity to make the bank’s approval a moot point, and as I considered the list of everything I officially owned but was still paying on, I could see he was right about that. The house, the car, the new tires on the car, the high-definition flatscreen television, the 4-wheeler, the computer, the high-speed internet service provider that made me part owner of a satellite circling the globe, the cell phone, the riding lawnmower, the kitchen stove, the washer and dryer, the pop-up tent camper, the hunting rifle with scope, the surround sound Dolby theater system, and even the jacket on my back. The bank couldn’t afford to let a customer like me off the hook. I knew it was time for a decision. The sales department seemed to have thought of everything. And what’s that? You say I can always put money from my salary aside and wait to buy until I have saved enough? What kind of option is that?

I ought to report this whole outfit to the Better Business Bureau. I mean, what kind of fiscally responsible consumer would jeopardize his credit rating by paying with cash?

David Feela is a teacher at Montezuma-Cortez High School.

Published in David Feela

2005: The best of times, or the worst?

Ah, harvest time. Orchard parties and U-Pick signs inviting you to gather a piece of autumn condensed into a crisp, red apple. Or the pleasant weariness that comes from putting up the last of two dozen jars of salsa lovingly made from homegrown tomatoes and chilis.

These are the ways that many of us experience the harvest, but for a significant portion of our neighbors, harvest time is when they learn their economic fate for the next year. Even after all of their diligent work through the spring and summer, uncontrollable factors such as market prices and weather ultimately determine whether they make a profit or not.

STORING GARBANZO BEANS

Agriculture plays a small but significant role in the economic vitality of the Four Corners region. According to federal, state and regional statistics, there are about 1,500 jobs in agriculture and agricultural services (such as veterinarians and feed providers) in Montezuma and Dolores counties. Four out of five of these jobs are directly related to crop and livestock production and the remainder are in ag services.

Surprisingly, given drought and other adversities, the total number of agricultural jobs in the region has increased over the past 10 years. In 2002, agribusiness contributed 2 percent of total income for Montezuma County and 15 percent for Dolores County, where agriculture is the largest employer.

Even the majority of us who are not ranchers or farmers appreciate the non-economic amenities that farms and ranches provide us: Pastoral views. Open space. A connection to the changing seasons. A chance to buy our food directly from the producer at the farmers’ market.

However, recent analysis for the Comprehensive Development Strategy, a report compiled periodically by Region 9, has uncovered some rather disturbing trends in agriculture for Montezuma County. Their analysis shows that since 1994, production expenses have consistently exceeded agricultural income.

This means that for the past 10 years, on average, farmers and ranchers in Montezuma County have lost money.

Harvest 2005 has had the usual mixed results. Above-average moisture levels increased yields for hay, beans, and other produce, but untimely rain reduced hay quality and in some cases, hail pummeled entire crops into oblivion.

Cattle prices are the highest in years, helping ranchers offset some of their losses due to drought and higher fuel prices. The fruit harvest was spotty. But, for grape-growers prepared with frost protection, this was a banner year.

Alfalfa hay: Good news and bad news

In Montezuma and Dolores counties, alfalfa hay comprises the largest share of total crop revenue, though in Dolores County dry beans are a close second. In Montezuma County, which has good access to irrigation water provided from the Dolores River though the Montezuma Valley Irrigation Company and the Dolores Water Conservancy District, more acres are planted in alfalfa hay than all other crops combined. In Dolores County, with its more limited access to irrigation water, more land is planted in dry beans and wheat than alfalfa, though in 2004 alfalfa hay had a higher crop value than beans or wheat.

According to the Econometer, a quarterly economic report put out by the Fort Lewis College School of Business, prices for alfalfa hay are up 10.1 percent over last year. On average, the price of one ton of premium dairy-grade alfalfa hay is $110. This is good news for hay farmers.

Additionally, an above-average snowpack filled McPhee Reservoir and DWCD farmers could use a full allocation of irrigation water. Alfalfa yields were up and 2005 looked like the year when hay farmers would finally turn the corner after the devastating drought of the past few years. Unfortunately, badly timed rains damaged the cut alfalfa.

“Most farmers haven’t had a dry cutting since June,” observed Bob Bragg of Southwest Management Consulting and Training. “They haven’t been able to get the cut alfalfa out of the fields before it rained and the resulting damaged hay can only be sold for beef-cattle feed at $70 to $80 per ton — if it can be sold at all.”

Dry beans: high yields, low prices

Last year, dry beans made up about one-quarter of the estimated $13 million in crop revenue for Montezuma and Dolores counties. As the self-proclaimed “pinto-bean capital of the world,” Dove Creek and Dolores County depend on dry beans for economic and social status in the community.

Starting with good winter moisture in the dryland fields, 2005 brought a good growing season and excellent yields. But as with alfalfa, late-season rains during harvest may have damaged the crop.

“We need a dry spell to pick up the rest of the beans,” Bragg said. “The beans down in the fields held up for the first wet period, but wet and cold weather could do damage to those beans.”

Even for beans that were harvested before the wet weather, the news is not good. Dry-bean prices are down by 40 percent from last year. In 2004, dry beans were commanding a price of $28 per hundred-weight (cwt). This year the price has been as low as $20.

This could be devastating for local bean farmers who planted more acres in beans this year after last year’s high prices and spent money on seed and fuel to produce a bumper crop — only to see oversupply causing prices to plummet. With fuel prices — the major production cost for these dryland farmers — increasing by 100 percent or more, low prices don’t give them much motivation to remove the remainder of the soggy beans from their fields.

Livestock: A bright spot

The bright spot in the commodity ag markets is calf prices, which according to the Econometer are more than 15 percent higher than last year. per hundred-weight for feeder cattle,” said Bragg, who has been tracking cattle prices in the region. The reason for this price increase, however, is not clear. Some of the increase is attributed to higher beef demand caused by the high-protein diet craze. Other experts point to a drop in supply because the Canadian border has been closed to cattle imports because of Bovine Spongiform Encephalitis (mad cow) scares.

However, when the border opened late this summer and Canadian cattle imports resumed, prices did not change. Whatever the reason, higher cattle prices mean that ranchers have a better chance of keeping up with higher fuel and production costs and making a profit this year.

Farmers’ market grows

The Cortez Farmers’ Market has been the place to buy local produce for more than 26 years. The size of the market has ebbed and flowed, but the past three years have seen substantial growth.

Rosie Carter of Stone Free Farm, a member of the all-volunteer Cortez Farmers’ Market Committee, attributes the market’s recent success “to efforts by a dedicated group of core vendors.”

The market committee made changes to the arrangement of vendors to create a better environment and scheduled live music each week. A greater variety of vendors selling everything from vegetables, fruit, flowers, bread and honey to breakfast burritos also increased the market’s appeal.

Carter thinks sales were up for everyone, despite the lack of fruit this year. Locally grown fruit is usually a big customer draw, but spring freezes in McElmo Canyon eliminated most peach and apricot yield, although some apricots were available from Dolores County. Overall, the Cortez Farmers’ Market is turning into a regular weekend event profitable for both buyers and sellers.

Specialty crops: A promising future?

Just as the farmers’ market is finding success through diversification, local farmers are moving beyond traditional hay, beans, and wheat. Grapes and garbanzo beans are some of the specialty crops that have been successfully grown in the area. The most recent ag experiment is oil-seed crops such as sunflower and canola to provide feedstock for the much-anticipated biodiesel production facilities that are planned for the region.

Vintner Guy Drew enthusiastically reported that in his vineyards in McElmo Canyon, “The grape harvest went very well this year. Much better than last year, with five times more volume and better-quality grapes.”

Drew attributed the improved harvest to more mature grapevines and improved frost protection. The highlight of this year’s harvest at Guy Drew Vineyards was having enough volume from each of the 10 grape varieties to produce some varietal wines (wines made from a single grape variety rather than a mixture) for the first time.

The Sauvignon Blanc and Cabernet Sauvignon were especially promising; however Drew won’t know the quality of the wines produced from these grapes for six to 24 months.

“Winemaking is an evolving process,” Drew observed. “You don’t know the result until it is bottled. Some wines, like the reds, keep changing as they age in the barrel.” Clearly, patience (and a substantial savings account) are virtues in the wine-making business.

The Southwestern Colorado Research Center in Yellow Jacket, operated by the Colorado State University Extension Office, is designed to try new crops and growing methods. They have experimented with everything from dwarf fruit trees, using innovative irrigation and frost-protection systems, to grapes and garbanzo beans, and this year, oil-seed crops such as canola and brown mustard. Oil-seed crops would be used as feedstock for biodiesel-production facilities.

Locally grown diesel fuel has plenty of appeal [See story on Page 6], as is demonstrated by the success of biodiesel in Durango, where the city’s fleet uses it. The other appeal of oil-seed crops is that farmers could use existing equipment and cropping practices to grow and harvest them.

One of the most significant barriers to adopting new crops in the region is usually the investment in existing equipment and the inertia of traditional cropping practices.

But Mark Stack, who directed the oilseed- crop experiments in Yellow Jacket, found that they could use a standard wheat combine to harvest the canola. Next season, they plan to experiment with other oil-seed crops such as other types of canola, soybeans, and safflower.

With the tightening economics of farming and ranching, the future of agriculture in the area may depend on the rest of us somehow compensating farmers and ranchers for the amenities they provide, because the harvest alone may not be bountiful enough.

Published in November 2005

Environmentalists decry proposed ESA changes

The Endangered Species Act of 1973, long considered the premier conservation law for protecting rare plants and animals, would be severely altered under a rewrite that has already cleared the U.S. House of Representatives.

U.S. Rep. Richard Pombo, a California Republican and property-rights barrister, has teamed up with Democratic Rep. Dennis Cardoza, also of California, to overhaul how endangered and threatened species are protected. Their bill has momentum but must still pass the generally more ecofriendly Senate.

Democratic Congressman John Salazar, representing western Colorado, voted in favor of the bill. House Bill 3824 would limit conventional scientific scrutiny of endangered species, eliminate critical-habitat designations and vastly expand compensation to landowners for development profits lost because of critical-habitat designations.

A draft version of the bill provided for the ESA to sunset off the books by 2015, but that measure was removed from the legislation.

Environmentalists are largely opposed to the ESA revision. “This bill has huge flaws,” said Sara Deon, outreach representative for Defenders of Wildlife in Denver. “For the House to pass it shows they do not feel accountable towards the huge public support for wildlife preservation in Colorado and the nation.”

Pombo, who heads the Natural Resources Committee, has been fighting the ESA for 12 years. He claimed (falsely, it was later proven) that the efforts to save the endangered San Joaquin kit fox in California had caused his farm to go broke.

“You’ve got to pay when you take away somebody’s private property,” Pombo said during speeches on the House floor. “That is what leads to (species) recovery.”

Other proposed legislation Pombo has sponsored unsuccessfully included selling some national parks and marketing untapped mineral rights within national parks.

Since it was signed into law by President Nixon, the ESA has endured, despite numerous court challenges and criticism that it locks up natural lands desired for urban development, industry, logging, drilling, mining, ranching and dams.

Critics also say the ESA is not effective because very few of the plants or animals listed under the act are ever removed.

However, celebrated success stories of endangered-species recovery include saving the bald eagle, California condor, Mexican spotted owl, snail darter, red-legged frog, gray wolf, grizzly bear, lynx, black-footed ferret and river otter from the brink of extinction in the United States.

Still, hundreds of animals, fish and plants are on track for extinction, but are not listed because the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which oversees endangered species, does not have the resources to devote to them.

“Here in America we have so much land, but we are squandering it, and the result is loss of species,” said Donald Bruning, a biologist from the Bronx Zoo, during a recent lecture at Fort Lewis College in Durango. “Thinking about where we build could make a big difference in saving wildlife.”

Bruning cited the California condor recovery as a success story, albeit an expensive one. At one point there were only nine condors left in the wild, he said.

They were captured, bred and then released back into the wild. Now there are an estimated 80 condors soaring along the southern California coast and along the Vermillion Cliffs on the north rim of the Grand Canyon.

The birds, however, remain in danger from hunters, lead bullets in the carcasses they eat, power lines and other perils.

It took 20 years at a cost of $4.5 million per year for the condor-recovery program, Bruning said, but for many Americans it was a worthy cause, “for it would be a shame to lose a species with such pre-historic origins.”

Also, the black-footed ferret, the rarest mammal in North America, at one point was down to three animals in the wild. A successful captive-breeding and release program resulted in the animal’s recovery, Bruning said.

“Some people will say, ‘Let them go extinct,’ but I can’t accept that, because animals like the condor don’t die off from natural causes,” Bruning said.

“They are shot, poisoned from lead and DDT, or get caught in power lines. Without humans, they would live a healthy life, and I would like to think in 20,000 years they will still be here. It just takes people being a little more careful.”

There are 1,246 plants and animal species listed as endangered or threatened under the ESA, meaning they appear on the way to extinction. Under the act, listed species have recovery plans. However, only 13, including the bald eagle, have ever been removed from the list because of successful recovery efforts.

Pombo maintains this is a 99 percent failure rate and that the act is too costly and bogs down the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service with endless litigation by environmental groups. Supporters argue that without recovery plans under the ESA, endangered species would have even less chance of survival.

According to an April 2005 study on the ESA by BioScience, a peer-reviewed scientific journal, threatened species with protected critical habitat were twice as likely to survive as those without.

The study, which analyzed 1,095 species studied by the USFWS, also found that the longer a plant or animal was protected under the act, the less likely it was to continue to decline.

The Bush administration has added only 32 threatened or endangered species awaiting recovery plans under the ESA since taking office, all under court order. President Clinton listed 512 species during his tenure, and Bush’s father added 234 species for protection during his presidency.

Opponents of the ESA decry lawsuits as expensive and time-consuming, but environmentalists counter that without litigation, nothing would ever be listed for protection under the current administration.

One of the most controversial components of endangered-species recovery under the act is the idea of “critical habitat,” blocks of land and/or water required for a species’ recovery. It is such habitat that opponents of the act want to see more widely opened up to human development, environmental- ists claim.

Furthermore, if denied development rights, property owners and companies want compensation, which Pombo’s critics argue translates to an absurd legal precedent: paying property owners to comply with environmental law.

The ESA’s habitat designations have, on rare occasions, stopped dams and commercial development, re-allocated water resources, and eliminated largescale old-growth logging in the Northwest for the sake of improving a species’ population.

“The Endangered Species Act is the nation’s most important conservation law in history. To change it the way Pombo wants is the dream of every irresponsible developer out there,” Deon said. “We have to look to the Senate to ensure that Americans have a strong Endangered Species Act.”

Under Pombo’s bill, standards would be less stringent for how much land is needed for each threatened or endangered species. For example, the current law allows for the documented historic range of a species when considering protection measures. The new law would limit studies of habitat range to “empirical data,” meaning setting aside protected land only where species can be accurately counted.

The ESA now obligates the federal government to protect all species in danger of extinction “throughout all or a significant portion of their ranges” and also includes “species likely to become endangered in the foreseeable future.”

The rewritten law implies that the government should be only responsible for maintaining the minimal level of population of threatened species, rather than working to fully recover them.

Property-rights advocates support the proposed law for provisions granting an increase in compensation for landowners who lose development value due to species listed under the Endangered Species Act.

But that is an expensive solution that will likely backfire, maintained Erich Zimmermann, senior policy analyst for Taxpayers for Common Sense, in the October Grist Magazine.

“Pombo’s bill creates a perverse incentive for landowners to come up with a plan to develop on the most biologically sensitive areas of their property simply so they can cash in on a government rebate,” he said.

The price tag for paying off landowners with property including habitat for sensitive species is estimated to be $220 million, according to the Congressional Budget Office.

Conservationists are also concerned about provisions in the bill that would remove, for five years, restrictions on pesticides known to be harmful to aquatic species, including sea turtles and Pacific salmon.

“We’ve already learned that lesson with the bald eagle and DDT,” said Deon of Defenders. “Pesticides accumulate up the food chain to harm wildlife. Pombo’s bill returns us to that time by exempting pesticides decisions from ESA compliance.”

Improvements are needed to the ESA, but Pombo’s bill falls short, according to Chris Pague, senior conservation ecologist with the nonprofit Nature Conservancy.

What’s needed are real incentives for property owners to protect critical habitat on their land, he said in a phone interview. “We’re very concerned that the bill does not represent an incentive base; it takes away tools that makes conservation a success.”

For example, the bill discourages communities from working with local land agencies to help save a species, preferring instead a government buyout.

“In the case of the Gunnison sage grouse, protection under the act was warranted but precluded, meaning nothing was being done,” Pague said. “So instead of waiting for the (USFW) to tell them what to do the community stepped up and helped to solve the problem by conserving private lands in cooperation with the local BLM officials.”

More incentives are needed for conservation easements also, Pague said. If they were easier to get and compensated enough for losses, more landowners would be willing to get on board, but this is not addressed in the new bill.

“Species protection is a value for the American people,” he said. “But a strong stand for society is not to strip struggling landowners of all possibilities on their land. Rather it is giving them, and planners, alternatives that help them reach their financial goals, without sacrificing the viability of species.”

Published in November 2005