Attention: TDR Forum Junkies 
A story from the Herald and News, Klamath Falls, OR.
What’s changed: A bond is asunder
03/31/02
By KEHN GIBSON
Last year, federal law enforcement officers stood guard at the headgates above. This year, federal and local officials greeted the release of water.
In 1947, Eleanor Bolestra trusted the government and homesteaded a patch of ground in the Klamath Basin.
She was a U. S. Navy veteran of World War II. Like many in the service, she came to the Basin to pursue a dream, invited and encouraged by the same government she had served.
Her farm has operated every year since 1947. She raised her children, sending three daughters and two sons through college. “The promise of the land wasn’t only in making a living, it was security,” she says.
For decades, a symbol of Basin agriculture and history has been the Life magazine cover picture of Bolestra driving a tractor.
In 2001, her trust crumbled.
“I worked so hard to pay off the debts, and now the farm isn’t worth what I paid for it,” Bolestra said this spring. “My attitude has changed; now, I am very skeptical of the government. ”
The water cutoff announced April 6, 2001, broke a bond between Basin farmers and the government.
There’s no lack of patriotism among the farmers.
“Every one of them still has their flag flying in front of their house,” says Jackie Krizo, who with her husband, David, farms horseradish and barley 15 miles south of Tulelake. Even without water, nobody has lost the habit of “how to be an American,” she says.
But time after time when questions about what’s changed in the Basin as a result of the water cutoff, people talk about the relation between the government and its citizens.
Don Boyd, an implement dealer in Merrill, said the community has been wounded in “ways the naked eye can’t see. ”
“Trust is a sacred thing, and the trust between a government and its citizens, well, there’s nothing more sacred than that,” Boyd said. “I know some folks think this is corny, but I used to get tears in my eyes when I heard ‘The Star Spangled Banner. ’ The thing that bothers me most is that I have lost trust. ”
Boyd said he is seeing an underside of the changes wrought on the Basin by last year’s water cutoff.
He tells of a man he has known for years who was seeking an operating loan last month and was turned down. Sinking into a depression, the man got into his pickup one day and began driving.
Boyd said the man drove for a week. When he got back, he picked up the pieces and began seeking a loan again. But Boyd is still worried.
“What does it do to a man with a family when he suddenly can’t see a way to feed them?” Boyd asks. “We have lost our younger farmers, good farmers, people who should be farming. What does that say about our future?”
Other things have changed among farmers. They’ve perked up their ears to threats, and they’ve gained new political and public relations skills.
David Krizo said a year ago all he read in the newspaper was the headlines and comics. Now, he tracks the activities of environmental organizations closely. “I was pretty apolitical then, but now I realize we have enemies. ”
Krizo spent $80,000 to sink a well on his farm last spring, and was able to get his horseradish in, although his barley crop suffered.
“We were as lucky as anyone with water, and we still went through hell,” he said. “It cost the Basin a lot more than the $134 million that study says it cost. ”
“We know of two suicides that can be connected to this, and about five auctions. We definitely have enemies, and we are basically defending our homeland. ”
Rob Crawford, a quiet man around people he doesn’t know, said he fell into a role of media relations specialist last year, connecting visiting journalists with people affected by the water cutoff.
After the Bucket Brigade in Klamath Falls May 7 drew national attention to the Basin, Crawford said, he became “media savvy” because he had to. “The story had to be told,” he said. “There are a lot of unfortunate stories out there. ”
The opening of the A Canal headgates Friday was “good news,” Crawford said, but he viewed the event somberly.
“I’m proud of the people I’ve worked with, I’m very proud of my community, but I don’t feel like celebrating,” he said. “There are farmers who aren’t farming this year, too many people gone. ”
One of those people who are “gone” is Vernancio Hernandez, Crawford said. “He is a good farmer, a fine man, and I admire him a lot. He is somebody that should be farming. ”
How Vernancio Hernandez came to be a farmer in the Klamath Basin traces a common path in that he grew up farming. He lost his farm as a direct result of the water cutoff.
Hernandez began working with his father on the family farm in Michuocan, Mexico, when he was 8. When he reached 16, he followed his father to the United States.
In 1973, Hernandez came to the Klamath Basin and found work with Tulelake’s Tommy Frey. Hernandez stayed with Frey, building a reputation for hard work, honesty, and being a quick study.
In the spring of 1993, Frey was killed in an accident while getting ready to plant potatoes. Hernandez said Frey’s widow, Cheri, encouraged him to rent the Freys’ 240 acres and produce a crop.
Hernandez went for it. By 1998, he was “100 percent farmer,” he says.
“I had my boys working with me, and we were doing pretty good,” Hernandez said. “Then I got notice there would be no water. I got pretty low. ”
Hernandez was completely exposed by the cutoff. Last November he watched as his farm equipment was auctioned. Today, he works through a program offered by the Newell-Tulelake Assistance Center, and his wife has taken a job. His fight now is to keep living in Tulelake. It is important to him his grandchildren know where their grandfather lives, he said.
“Vernancio was important to this community, a very necessary guy,” Crawford said. “He was respected within the entire community, and people like that are necessary. Now, he’s gone. ”
According to Hernandez, he will be gone for good.
“I don’t see a future for me on a farm,” Hernandez said. “And it’s not just me. If things don’t go well this year, we will see more, and that’s pretty sad. ”
Not all of the changes are psychological and personal.
In Klamath Falls at the headgates where protesters spent 84 days last year, the water delivery gates now are ringed by a tall, black fence and monitored by a system of video cameras and motion detectors. All are monitored from a remote, undisclosed location by the Bureau of Reclamation.
Another change to come is a federal trespass regulation for property belonging to the Bureau of Reclamation, said Jim Merideth, safety and security manager for the Bureau of Reclamation’s Mid-Pacific Region.
“The Bureau of Reclamation has been given law enforcement authority to enact regulations, signed into law last January,” Merideth said. “It is a much broader authority than what we had going in Klamath Falls last year. ”
Merideth said a group of regulations, including trespass and tampering, are on a “fast track” for approval by the Department of Interior.
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All other trademarks and Registered trademarks are property
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<hr>
All this accomplished precisely nothing. NO fish "saved" no good actually done. The green groups are again preparing to mount a multi-million dollar legal campaign to shut the water off again. The science doesn't support their actions... but the politics does.
Again, our rights are going away, government is run amok, becoming an end in and of itself, treating us as "subjects", not it's owners. And the left, the greens, and those who sit idly by thinking it doesn't concern them are all speeding the process.
What’s changed: A bond is asunder
03/31/02
By KEHN GIBSON
Last year, federal law enforcement officers stood guard at the headgates above. This year, federal and local officials greeted the release of water.
In 1947, Eleanor Bolestra trusted the government and homesteaded a patch of ground in the Klamath Basin.
She was a U. S. Navy veteran of World War II. Like many in the service, she came to the Basin to pursue a dream, invited and encouraged by the same government she had served.
Her farm has operated every year since 1947. She raised her children, sending three daughters and two sons through college. “The promise of the land wasn’t only in making a living, it was security,” she says.
For decades, a symbol of Basin agriculture and history has been the Life magazine cover picture of Bolestra driving a tractor.
In 2001, her trust crumbled.
“I worked so hard to pay off the debts, and now the farm isn’t worth what I paid for it,” Bolestra said this spring. “My attitude has changed; now, I am very skeptical of the government. ”
The water cutoff announced April 6, 2001, broke a bond between Basin farmers and the government.
There’s no lack of patriotism among the farmers.
“Every one of them still has their flag flying in front of their house,” says Jackie Krizo, who with her husband, David, farms horseradish and barley 15 miles south of Tulelake. Even without water, nobody has lost the habit of “how to be an American,” she says.
But time after time when questions about what’s changed in the Basin as a result of the water cutoff, people talk about the relation between the government and its citizens.
Don Boyd, an implement dealer in Merrill, said the community has been wounded in “ways the naked eye can’t see. ”
“Trust is a sacred thing, and the trust between a government and its citizens, well, there’s nothing more sacred than that,” Boyd said. “I know some folks think this is corny, but I used to get tears in my eyes when I heard ‘The Star Spangled Banner. ’ The thing that bothers me most is that I have lost trust. ”
Boyd said he is seeing an underside of the changes wrought on the Basin by last year’s water cutoff.
He tells of a man he has known for years who was seeking an operating loan last month and was turned down. Sinking into a depression, the man got into his pickup one day and began driving.
Boyd said the man drove for a week. When he got back, he picked up the pieces and began seeking a loan again. But Boyd is still worried.
“What does it do to a man with a family when he suddenly can’t see a way to feed them?” Boyd asks. “We have lost our younger farmers, good farmers, people who should be farming. What does that say about our future?”
Other things have changed among farmers. They’ve perked up their ears to threats, and they’ve gained new political and public relations skills.
David Krizo said a year ago all he read in the newspaper was the headlines and comics. Now, he tracks the activities of environmental organizations closely. “I was pretty apolitical then, but now I realize we have enemies. ”
Krizo spent $80,000 to sink a well on his farm last spring, and was able to get his horseradish in, although his barley crop suffered.
“We were as lucky as anyone with water, and we still went through hell,” he said. “It cost the Basin a lot more than the $134 million that study says it cost. ”
“We know of two suicides that can be connected to this, and about five auctions. We definitely have enemies, and we are basically defending our homeland. ”
Rob Crawford, a quiet man around people he doesn’t know, said he fell into a role of media relations specialist last year, connecting visiting journalists with people affected by the water cutoff.
After the Bucket Brigade in Klamath Falls May 7 drew national attention to the Basin, Crawford said, he became “media savvy” because he had to. “The story had to be told,” he said. “There are a lot of unfortunate stories out there. ”
The opening of the A Canal headgates Friday was “good news,” Crawford said, but he viewed the event somberly.
“I’m proud of the people I’ve worked with, I’m very proud of my community, but I don’t feel like celebrating,” he said. “There are farmers who aren’t farming this year, too many people gone. ”
One of those people who are “gone” is Vernancio Hernandez, Crawford said. “He is a good farmer, a fine man, and I admire him a lot. He is somebody that should be farming. ”
How Vernancio Hernandez came to be a farmer in the Klamath Basin traces a common path in that he grew up farming. He lost his farm as a direct result of the water cutoff.
Hernandez began working with his father on the family farm in Michuocan, Mexico, when he was 8. When he reached 16, he followed his father to the United States.
In 1973, Hernandez came to the Klamath Basin and found work with Tulelake’s Tommy Frey. Hernandez stayed with Frey, building a reputation for hard work, honesty, and being a quick study.
In the spring of 1993, Frey was killed in an accident while getting ready to plant potatoes. Hernandez said Frey’s widow, Cheri, encouraged him to rent the Freys’ 240 acres and produce a crop.
Hernandez went for it. By 1998, he was “100 percent farmer,” he says.
“I had my boys working with me, and we were doing pretty good,” Hernandez said. “Then I got notice there would be no water. I got pretty low. ”
Hernandez was completely exposed by the cutoff. Last November he watched as his farm equipment was auctioned. Today, he works through a program offered by the Newell-Tulelake Assistance Center, and his wife has taken a job. His fight now is to keep living in Tulelake. It is important to him his grandchildren know where their grandfather lives, he said.
“Vernancio was important to this community, a very necessary guy,” Crawford said. “He was respected within the entire community, and people like that are necessary. Now, he’s gone. ”
According to Hernandez, he will be gone for good.
“I don’t see a future for me on a farm,” Hernandez said. “And it’s not just me. If things don’t go well this year, we will see more, and that’s pretty sad. ”
Not all of the changes are psychological and personal.
In Klamath Falls at the headgates where protesters spent 84 days last year, the water delivery gates now are ringed by a tall, black fence and monitored by a system of video cameras and motion detectors. All are monitored from a remote, undisclosed location by the Bureau of Reclamation.
Another change to come is a federal trespass regulation for property belonging to the Bureau of Reclamation, said Jim Merideth, safety and security manager for the Bureau of Reclamation’s Mid-Pacific Region.
“The Bureau of Reclamation has been given law enforcement authority to enact regulations, signed into law last January,” Merideth said. “It is a much broader authority than what we had going in Klamath Falls last year. ”
Merideth said a group of regulations, including trespass and tampering, are on a “fast track” for approval by the Department of Interior.
©2001 MyWebPal.com. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy
All other trademarks and Registered trademarks are property
of their respective owners.
<hr>
All this accomplished precisely nothing. NO fish "saved" no good actually done. The green groups are again preparing to mount a multi-million dollar legal campaign to shut the water off again. The science doesn't support their actions... but the politics does.
Again, our rights are going away, government is run amok, becoming an end in and of itself, treating us as "subjects", not it's owners. And the left, the greens, and those who sit idly by thinking it doesn't concern them are all speeding the process.
