Monday, April 27, 2020

When Audubon Fired Rich Madson

The Garrison Diversion Project, once heralded as the savior of North Dakota, is a multi-billion dollar water development boondoggle that the National Audubon Society once claimed it would go to no ends to kill. Eventually they saved the project in Congress and walked away with egg on their face


A large, hideous, highway sign blotted out the view from Interstate 94 just a mile or so past the exit to Cleveland, North Dakota.  It faced east toward the rising sun and even the least aware among us could not avoid seeing it.  On the sign was painted a babbling brook best suited for a mountain scene in Montana where Norman McLean and his family could have fished for trout in the iconic tale A River Runs Through It.   Above the painting of the babbling brook, in black letters were the words “GARRISON DIVERSION”.  Below the babbling brook, in slightly smaller font, were the words “The Lifeline to Our Future.”  Uninformed passersby were probably left with the feeling that Garrison Diversion, whatever it was, likely carried the weight of the entire future of North Dakota on its shoulders.   Nothing could be farther from the truth.

The sign’s mere presence caused me heartburn each time I had to drive by it.  Not only were the words on the sign, and the picture of the babbling brook, bald-faced lies, the sign’s message sent the public the uninformed impression that Garrison Diversion was a good thing.  Over several years, fellow staff members of the Northern Prairie Wildlife Research Center, and members of local conservation groups, hatched plan after plan after plan for how the Garrison sign could be removed from the landscape. 

Following several years of “I think we should….” conversations someone finally did. 

Driving west past the Cleveland exit I approached the shelterbelt that was to the east of the sign and as I had done so many times before, prepared myself to be insulted by the sign.  This time, however, all I saw at the west end of the shelterbelt was an unobstructed view of a wheat field.  The sign, with its horrific message, was gone!  Three wooden posts that held up the sign were there but the sign was missing.  Immediately stopping my car, I raced to the side of the road to investigate.  As I suspected from the highway, the support posts had each been decapitated.  It was apparent that someone with a chain saw had cut through the posts at the same angle and felled the sign.

The sign itself was lying face first in the ditch with its misleading message seen only by the grasses laying squashed under its weight.  Investigating farther, I saw fresh tire tracks in the trail leading from a township road to where the sign had been and from the tire tracks, I saw the footprints of one human obviously on a mission to walk from a vehicle to the sign.  Little piles of sawdust lay at the foot of each beheaded support post but there were no other clues about the identity of the patriot who finally took out that sign.  It was one of the happiest days of the year for me knowing that god-awful sign was gone.

The sign’s demise was the topic of discussion over coffee at the research center the next day.  None of my colleagues accepted responsibility however one person, who I still suspect, participated at a very low-key level in the bantering about what happened to the sign and who had bragging rights for its demise.  Most of us hoped that the destruction of the sign was a metaphor for the destruction of the project.  Unfortunately for us and for North Dakota’s natural resources it was anything but the end of it.

On December 22, 1944, Congress authorized the Flood Control Act, later named the Pick-Sloan Missouri Basin Program. The primary purpose was for flood control, navigation, irrigation and hydropower, which would be facilitated by the construction of six main stem dams on the Missouri River at Fort Peck, Garrison, Oahe, Big Bend, Fort Randall and Gavin’s Point.

North Dakota was promised over a million acres of irrigation as compensation for the 300,000 acres of farmland lost to the permanent flood created as a result of the dams and the lost economic benefit that farmland generated. The state was originally to receive this irrigation from water diverted from Fort Peck Dam in eastern Montana. Initially known as the “Missouri-Souris Project,” it included 1,275,000 acres.

Between 1944 and 1965, soil surveys and studies were performed to assess the feasibility of irrigating the 1.2 million acres originally planned for North Dakota. The studies indicated that the soil in northwestern North Dakota was not suitable for irrigation according to federal irrigation standards. Drainage problems caused by the unusually high density of glacial subsoil were a primary factor. As a result, the Bureau of Reclamation revised the diversion plan proposing instead to take water from the Garrison Dam and reservoir to irrigate other lands to the east. With the new name “Garrison Diversion,” the Bureau of Reclamation 1957 feasibility study on the redesigned project recommended irrigation of 1,007,000 acres and other water development in central and eastern North Dakota.

Because of changes to the original plan and the language in the 1964 appropriations act requiring specific reauthorization for all units of the Pick-Sloan Missouri Basin Program, the Bureau of Reclamation returned to Congress for reauthorization. During the process of reauthorization, supporters of the project pointed to the many benefits for North Dakota and the need to compensate the state for land inundated by the construction of the Garrison Dam and reservoir. On August 5, 1965, Congress addressed concerns of the project—the high cost, conflict with federal farm policies and the small amount of money to be repaid by water users—by enacting legislation for the Garrison Diversion Unit. The primary focus of the plan was to include municipal and industrial water, fish and wildlife development, recreation and flood control along with irrigation of 250,000 acres. Soon after, August 5 was declared “Liberation Day” in North Dakota and almost became a state holiday.   It was liberation day because from that day forward the Garrison Diversion Project would be constructed and agriculture in the state would be able to flourish.  As now envisioned, Garrison would provide irrigation waters to 6/10th of one percent of the agricultural acreage of the state.  That’s hardly enough to “flourish” and if you put enough lipstick on a pig it’s still a pig.

To make North Dakota flourish was going to come at a horrific environmental cost including the construction of several dams, damage or destruction to nearly 20 National Wildlife Refuges, drainage of thousands of acres of wetlands, and the conversion of more native prairie to produce wheat that would be flourished by the irrigation waters. Promoted heavily by Senator Milton R. Young, it soon became his baby and no politician in the state stood a chance of surviving any election unless they ate, slept, and shat Garrison Diversion.

The environmental damage to be brought on by Garrison was mindboggling and the US Fish and Wildlife Service went to war with its sister agency the US Bureau of Reclamation that had Federal responsibility for the project’s construction.  There was a very good reason our nickname for the Bureau of Reclamation was “the Bureau of Wreck-the-Nation.”  They weren’t wrecking the entire nation with Garrison, only North Dakota, 

Gary Pearson a veterinarian at the Northern Prairie Wildlife Research Center became a vocal opponent of the project.  Gary was and remains steadfastly meticulous in everything he says and does.  He kept notes of meetings and every newspaper clipping about every aspect of the project. His knowledge of project features plus his photographic memory of everything everyone said eventually became his downfall.   Fed up with Gary’s factual statements at public hearings and elsewhere, eventually Senator Milton R. Young whom we referred to simply as “Senator Wheat” arranged for Gary to be removed from Federal service.

Senator Wheat was the consummate politician who complained about the budget unless it was money earmarked for his state. Then budgets didn’t matter.  Consider the US Coast Guard navigation tower constructed in LaMoure, North Dakota, a mere 300 miles from the nearest Coast Guard cutter in the waters of Lake Superior in Duluth, Minnesota, it was constructed in the Senator’s home town.  Who could ever forget his multi-billion-dollar anti-ballistic missile site constructed near Nakoma in northeastern North Dakota?  Costing nearly $2 billion to construct, and after an elaborate gala ribbon cutting ceremony in which the assembled masses were assured that this monstrosity would keep them safe from any incoming Russian missiles, the Mikkelsen site at Nakoma was decommissioned after a month and it never operated.  It was decommissioned because no funds were authorized to operate it. Senator Wheat didn’t care.  He brought $2 billion into North Dakota for construction of this wasted project.  Now forty years later it sits collecting mold surrounded by endless sugar beet fields and never once did it protect us from anything!  Senator Wheat wanted it and Senator Wheat got it and that is all that mattered.

Garrison had become the cause celebre for the National Audubon Society.  Page after page of the Audubon magazine were devoted to stories about Garrison and pep talk descriptions about how Audubon was never going to the let the project be built.  Sitting in their ivory tower at 950 Third Avenue in New York City, Audubon was effective lobbying Congress but needed to be on the ground in North Dakota to bring change.  Ed Brigham, a quiet gentleman who was the Regional Vice-President in Minneapolis first tackled the project but I think it overwhelmed him.  In his place, Audubon hired Richard Madson as the new Regional Vice-President and they placed him at ground zero in Jamestown, North Dakota. 

Rich had a razor-sharp wit and a memory almost as photographic as Gary Pearson.  A wildlife biology student at South Dakota State University, Rich never received his degree because of a conflict of conscious.  During a final exam for a course that would determine his graduation, Rich caught a fellow classmate cheating.  Aware of the cheating he pointed it out to the professor and said it was not fair to Rich or any of the other students that their grade would be determined by a curve that included the cheater’s grade.  The professor refused to take any action and let the cheating student continue with his exam.  Incensed, Rich quit the class just four credits from a degree in wildlife biology.  His ethics wouldn’t let him play the game and he didn’t want his name associated with a degree or a school that would allow his ethics to be compromised.

Rich Madson spent a great deal of time lobbying members of Congress to develop opposition to Garrison.  He was instrumental in getting a Garrison opponent, a farmer from Ypsilanti, North Dakota named Darwin Fisher, elected to the Board of Directors of the Garrison Diversion Conservancy District.  He was also instrumental in getting Wade Williams, a young farmer from rural Jamestown and a vocal Garrison opponent, elected to the North Dakota state legislature.  Both were positions nobody ever imagined would be filled with opponents but Rich made it happen.

Once at a public meeting about Garrison held in the community room of a local power distribution company, an avid supporter of the project denigrated Rich for his stance opposing the project.  The project proponent, who today would likely be a huge fan of Donald tRump, dug deep to come up with something to hold over Rich and his integrity and finally settled on his age.  Claiming that Madson was “too young” to understand the importance of Garrison Diversion, Rich stood up and said, “I’m sorry you think I am too young.  All I can do is take that up with my parents.  However, sir, I want to assure you that I am getting old as fast as I can.”   The project proponent, finally realizing his infantile attack had just been thrown back in his face, took his seat and remained silent for the remainder of the meeting.

In September 1981, the National Audubon Society Board of Directors had their quarterly board meeting in Jamestown.  Some very big names in conservation were on the board, people like Nathaniel P. Reed, the former Assistant Secretary of the Department of the Interior.  Nat is best remembered for his testimony before Congress in which he said that Garrison was “a net loser” for wildlife. Durward L. Allen, a wildlife biology professor from Purdue University was on the board, and there were some big-time money people including Wallace Dayton of the Dayton Department stores in the Twin Cities.  They all came together for a kumbaya meeting in Jamestown, and Rich did not disappoint them.  His keynote address at the Saturday night banquet brought the assembled mass of more than 200 board members, Audubon staff, and invited guests to our feet.  It was one of the best speeches ever.

After Rich’s remarks, Russell Peterson, the thin-skinned former Governor of Delaware and current President of the National Audubon Society rose and gave a few words.  With tears in his eyes, Russ restated Audubon’s deeply entrenched commitment to never quit until Garrison Diversion was deauthorized by Congress.  Not long before his speech, the House of Representatives voted 314 in favor and 67 against deauthorizing the project.  We were that close to killing it.  Every Audubon staffer and every local guest left the banquet room of the Jamestown Holiday Inn that night convinced that Russell Peterson would never give up the fight to kill this horrific resource destroying project.

Russ Peterson’s speech was in late September.  Sometime in early January, Rich Madson had a discussion with Russ Peterson regarding Audubon’s intention to move the Regional Office from Jamestown, the center of the battle over Garrison, to Minneapolis, nearly seven hours by car from the action.  I don’t know it for a fact and can only speculate, but my suspicion is that Audubon wanted to move Rich to Minneapolis to have him closer to the watchful eye of Board member Wallace Dayton.  Madson saw numerous logistical issues with the proposed move and made a counter proposal to Peterson who objected strenuously to Rich’s objection.  The following day the National Audubon Society fired Rich Madson.

The man who almost single-handedly gave Audubon its greatest victory – the deauthorization of Garrison Diversion – was fired by the man who four months earlier promised that Audubon would do nothing to stand in the way of deauthorizing Garrison.  It was, as we used to say in North Dakota, “rectal reasoning.”

North Dakota’s conservation community came unglued when news of Rich’s departure was released.  I spent several days on the phone talking to Russell Peterson, his principal Vice-President Rupert Cutler, Board member Nathaniel Reed, and Board member Wallace Dayton.  We all begged Audubon to reconsider but they couldn’t lose face and they certainly didn’t want to piss off the money that Wallace Dayton could possibly contribute to Audubon over the long term.  Each person except Reed assured me that despite this personnel change, Audubon was still committed to killing Garrison Diversion.

Fast forward a year.  The state of North Dakota had hamstrung the ability of the US Fish and Wildlife Service to purchase waterfowl production areas from willing sellers across the state.  Seeing an opportunity, the North Dakota Chapter of The Wildlife Society worked out an agreement between North Dakota and the Audubon Society where the state would drop its opposition to wetland acquisition if Audubon would drop its opposition to the Garrison Diversion Project.

The deal was struck.  Hands were shaken. Audubon went before Congress and on the record dropped its opposition to the Garrison Diversion Project.  With Garrison now “saved” by the Audubon Society, the state of North Dakota said in essence, “no, we really didn’t mean it.  You still can’t buy wetlands, but thanks for saving Garrison for us just the same.”

I instantly cancelled my membership in the National Audubon Society.  I didn’t waste my breath making phone calls because Audubon didn’t want to hear an opposing viewpoint.

Several years later, at an Audubon Society meeting called The River Conference in Kearney, Nebraska, the group’s new President Peter A.A. Berle, stood before the assembled mass of Audubon faithful and recounted all of the wonderful things Audubon was doing to protect stream flows in the Platte River.  Other than a small sanctuary near Kearney, Audubon did nothing to protect instream flows in the Platte.  They sent their sanctuary manager to the Biology and Hydrology Workgroups of the Platte River Management Joint Study where he whined about everything and provided no viable alternatives but that didn’t stop Audubon from taking credit.  What Audubon was taking credit for was all of the work being done by the US Fish and Wildlife Service, the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission, the Platte River Whooping Crane Critical Habitat Maintenance Trust and even the Nebraska Public Power District.  They were the organizations on the ground, sweating it out, making things happen and slowly bringing all the disparate groups together to form consensus on how the river should be managed for sandhill cranes in the future.  Audubon wrote slick stories in their slick magazine and led everyone to believe they did the work of the other agencies.

There were other incidents later in my career of Audubon taking credit for what others have done, and once without reading all the particulars and asking questions first, Audubon stabbed my program in Washington DC in the back accusing us of selling out to the George W. Bush administration on wetland protection.  My disgust with the National Audubon Society remains at a fever pitch even today. So much so that I refuse to be a member of a local Audubon Chapter with no direct relationship to the National Society.  I won’t even step foot on their sanctuaries.

If Audubon wants to do something to protect nature, keep doing their marginally useful Christmas Bird Counts, and keep soliciting funds in their slick magazine.  Leave conservation to agencies and individuals who won’t stand in front of a group of people telling them one thing then four months later killing the goose that laid their golden egg.

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