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.
