A Forester's Story: Former Siskiyou National Forest supervisor tells of forest conflict
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When Ron McCormick became the Siskiyou National Forest supervisor in 1983, he
stepped right into the middle of a war.
Self-described "radical" Earth First! activists were blocking logging
roads to protect old-growth trees and spotted owls. The timber industry was
flexing its ample political muscle to leverage up the timber harvest. And
Mother Nature soon would lob a firebomb into the pitched battle over the future
of the woods.
"Those years on the Siskiyou were pretty traumatic," he says in an
interview. "They were conflict-ridden. I felt under the gun the whole
time.
"I wanted to put down in words what was going on behind the scenes and
what it all meant to me. When I retired in 1990, I was worn out, emotionally
drained. I wanted to sort it out in a memoir."
In the straightforward manner he became known for as the forest supervisor,
McCormick, 74, sorted it out in his recently self-published 242-page book,
"Plain Green Wrapper: A Forester's Story."
A 1958 graduate of the University of Michigan with a bachelor's degree in
forest management, McCormick, who hails from the small town of Chagrin Falls,
Ohio, spent 33 years working for the U.S. Forest Service, serving in seven
national forests.
"Those early years - the '60s and '70s - were joyful years," he says.
"I was in the field all the time doing basic forestry work. It was an
outstanding occupation."
In the book, McCormick cites the work of the Siskiyou forest staff, people such
as firefighting boss Wayne Spencer, biologist Lee Webb, forest ecologist Tom
Atzet and others, for their expertise in helping guide him. And he writes about
thoughtful folks in both the timber industry and environmental camps he came to
respect.
"All in all, it was a great career," he stressed.
But his career also included battles with bears and bureaucrats, with wildfires
and white water, with never-say-die environmentalists and timber industry
"hired guns."
He recounts the political pressure he felt several times in his career,
including his years as forest supervisor.
"I wanted to touch on the increasing political intervention throughout my
career," he says. "I don't know that it has changed to this day, but
during that period of the late '80s there was a lot of direct political
intervention. It was hard to deal with, something that I never thought would
ever happen. But it did."
In
his book, he notes that shortly after he arrived at the Siskiyou, five district
rangers told him their districts could not sustain the timber harvest levels
they had been assigned.
"After a time, I began to agree with them," he says. "In our
draft forest plan, we came out with 150 million (board feet) a year. We had
been cutting 180 million or over a year."
However, when he went to Washington, D.C., to present the proposed plan to
then-Forest Service Chief Dale Robertson, the chief only asked questions about
why he was dropping the harvest, McCormick says.
"There
were no questions about wildlife, water quality, fisheries," he says.
"I was a bit taken aback."
A friend with a position high in the agency in D.C. pulled him aside after his
presentation.
"He said, 'You've got to realize the administration is really pushing to
keep the cut up. The chief was obligated to ask those questions,' "
McCormick recalls.
Shortly after the forest supervisor returned to Oregon, the regional forester
contacted him.
"He said (Oregon Gov.) Neil Goldschmidt cannot live with 150 million - it
was too low," McCormick says. "I don't know what was behind that. But
I was directed to increase the cut. We ended with 167 million.
"After
all the hard work we had done, it came down to a political decision."
Things changed quickly in the 1990s. The 1994 Northwest Forest Plan dropped the
Siskiyou cut down to some 20 million board feet, he says.
"From my point of view, that was just as bad (as the inflated harvest
level)," he says. "I felt we had a balanced program, a sustainable
harvest at 150 (million). It recognized the emerging science of ecosystem
perpetuation and biodiversity."
McCormick writes that he made a point of listening to both the timber industry
and environmentalists to get their perspective.
"The
environmental community, at least in one-on-one, were a little more
polite," he says. "But behind the scenes they knew they were probably
going to go to court and sue you no matter what. The industry had what I called
'hired guns' - paid lobbyists who were very direct and very rough."
McCormick tried to achieve conflict resolution by bringing together
environmental activists, timber-industry representatives and local politicians.
No one was particularly happy to be with the others, he says.
"I tried to tell them that if we didn't solve it here together that it
would be solved for us and we probably wouldn't like it," he says, adding,
"And that's the way it worked out."
Indeed, the 1994 Northwest Forest Plan would leave much to be desired for him
as well as others.
Shortly after the draft Siskiyou forest plan was published in mid-August 1987,
a dry, lightning storm marched into the region, igniting dozens of fires from
Roseburg all the way to Redding, Calif.
The biggest fire became known as the Silver fire in the North Kalmiopsis
roadless area. It grew to some 97,000 acres before it was contained, making it
the largest fire in the history of the forest until nearly 500,000 acres burned
in the Biscuit fire of 2002.
"It was very frustrating - we couldn't get firefighters," he recalls.
"They had stripped the resources off the Siskiyou to fight fires down in
California except for a skeleton crew."
Before the smoke died away that fall, a battle erupted over salvaging the
burned timber.
"The environmentalists didn't want us to do any (salvage), and the timber
industry wanted us to salvage it all," he says. "Something in between
those two extremes made sense to me."
Reach Paul Fattig at 776-4496 or pfattig@mailtribune.com.
A novel idea
Ron McCormick's book, "Plain Green Wrapper: A Forester's Story," is available at Barnes and Nobel Booksellers in Medford as well as Oregon Books in the Grants Pass Shopping Center. It can be previewed and ordered online at lulu.com/content/5566327. It sells for $19.95.
