Read Online The Oregon Experiment by Keith Scribner - Free Book Online
Authors: Keith Scribner
Ads: Link
himself—drove out to the headgate with a bunch of deputies to deliver beef to our encampment. At dusk, lit up with spotlights from the police cars, he read a prepared statement over his patrol car’s loudspeaker. I was sitting on my tailgate looking across the dry canal at the Indians and environmentalists on the other side, and the armed marshals posted on top of the headgate. I don’t remember the details, but the speech was provocative, to say the least. Clear threats of violence to anyone who opposed opening the gates.
“That’s when I came home. In 1941 the secessionists took up their rifles because the Feds refused to build roads to promote logging and mining. Although most of the ranchers and farmers encamped at the headgate in2001 had no connection to the State of Liberty, there were enough of our flags flying that anyone could see who we supported. Whether it’s water or property rights, opposition to hunting and fishing licenses or
any
federal regulations, they’ve gotten too single-minded. The majority aren’t serious about forming a new state anyway—they want no government at all. So libertarian they’re really anarchists. And then there’s their pot-growing wing. The Statue of Liberty reggae band tours the West raising money to legalize marijuana. Talk about a weak coalition—Oregon rastas at one extreme, bear poachers at the other.
“Even if they could get their act together, their ambitions are too small. I want Portland and Seattle and Vancouver. I want all of Cascadia—from Mendocino to Prince William Sound to the Continental Divide. Those watersheds create a region that’s logical, manageable, and sustainable.”
Scanlon could tell that Hank had said this last part enough times he was completely convinced by it. “I can see why a lot of the people in the Odd Fellows Hall tonight are eager to go along with you,” Scanlon said, “but I wasn’t expecting the middle-class types.”
“They’ve all got different reasons, which as you’ve noticed makes consensus impossible. A lot of them are just there for a good debate over coffee, not to say their ideals aren’t noble. In fact, it’s some of the same faces you see protesting the wars every Friday evening in front of the courthouse. They believe in what they’re doing without much regard for the efficacy of their methods.”
“The world needs those people,” Scanlon said, meaning it.
Hank nodded. “Nobody in that room has it too bad, unlike the State of Liberty folks, who really do have valid gripes. But in both groups, ideals of equity and fairness and local control are on everybody’s mind.
“And I’ll tell you, Sequoia’s on top of all this. She’s very solid. She’s the heart and soul of the PNSM, and we couldn’t ask for better. But we need an intellectual focus, too. The sorts of scholarly and theoretical things you discussed tonight. That’s where you could be a big help. That’s where we need you.”
Scanlon held his tongue. The only honest thing to say was that they didn’t have a chance. Instead, he gave Hank his phone number and grabbed the check. “Let’s do this again.” There was a lot to learn about Douglas through Hank’s eyes.
“Good talking to you, Pratt.”
· · ·
Naomi missed New York. She called her old friends too much. She read the
Times
Arts section too closely. She found herself waiting on street corners in downtown Douglas for a blast of hot fumes from a city bus. A jackhammer, a car horn, even the briefest snarl of traffic soothed her like a smell from childhood.
She’d always assumed that if things didn’t work out in New York, she’d end up back in Paris. She didn’t romanticize it, just knew the city excelled in the things she loved the most. The beauty of Paris was that of humanity’s best efforts. Art and architecture, food, fashion, and fragrance. She had come to understand after her daily walks around their neighborhood that Douglas’s beauty had less to do
“That’s when I came home. In 1941 the secessionists took up their rifles because the Feds refused to build roads to promote logging and mining. Although most of the ranchers and farmers encamped at the headgate in2001 had no connection to the State of Liberty, there were enough of our flags flying that anyone could see who we supported. Whether it’s water or property rights, opposition to hunting and fishing licenses or
any
federal regulations, they’ve gotten too single-minded. The majority aren’t serious about forming a new state anyway—they want no government at all. So libertarian they’re really anarchists. And then there’s their pot-growing wing. The Statue of Liberty reggae band tours the West raising money to legalize marijuana. Talk about a weak coalition—Oregon rastas at one extreme, bear poachers at the other.
“Even if they could get their act together, their ambitions are too small. I want Portland and Seattle and Vancouver. I want all of Cascadia—from Mendocino to Prince William Sound to the Continental Divide. Those watersheds create a region that’s logical, manageable, and sustainable.”
Scanlon could tell that Hank had said this last part enough times he was completely convinced by it. “I can see why a lot of the people in the Odd Fellows Hall tonight are eager to go along with you,” Scanlon said, “but I wasn’t expecting the middle-class types.”
“They’ve all got different reasons, which as you’ve noticed makes consensus impossible. A lot of them are just there for a good debate over coffee, not to say their ideals aren’t noble. In fact, it’s some of the same faces you see protesting the wars every Friday evening in front of the courthouse. They believe in what they’re doing without much regard for the efficacy of their methods.”
“The world needs those people,” Scanlon said, meaning it.
Hank nodded. “Nobody in that room has it too bad, unlike the State of Liberty folks, who really do have valid gripes. But in both groups, ideals of equity and fairness and local control are on everybody’s mind.
“And I’ll tell you, Sequoia’s on top of all this. She’s very solid. She’s the heart and soul of the PNSM, and we couldn’t ask for better. But we need an intellectual focus, too. The sorts of scholarly and theoretical things you discussed tonight. That’s where you could be a big help. That’s where we need you.”
Scanlon held his tongue. The only honest thing to say was that they didn’t have a chance. Instead, he gave Hank his phone number and grabbed the check. “Let’s do this again.” There was a lot to learn about Douglas through Hank’s eyes.
“Good talking to you, Pratt.”
· · ·
Naomi missed New York. She called her old friends too much. She read the
Times
Arts section too closely. She found herself waiting on street corners in downtown Douglas for a blast of hot fumes from a city bus. A jackhammer, a car horn, even the briefest snarl of traffic soothed her like a smell from childhood.
She’d always assumed that if things didn’t work out in New York, she’d end up back in Paris. She didn’t romanticize it, just knew the city excelled in the things she loved the most. The beauty of Paris was that of humanity’s best efforts. Art and architecture, food, fashion, and fragrance. She had come to understand after her daily walks around their neighborhood that Douglas’s beauty had less to do
Similar Books
