RUSS CAHILL
The good news, if you are a faith based person, is that George W. Bush won reelection.While your editor, The Christian Bureaucrat, does not speak in tongues or handle snakes, I do occasionally talk to a ten foot tall flying bear who is in direct contact with God. Therefore, I was pleased that One of Our own won reelection.
The bad news is: how are we going to pay for this four year road trip?
George W. Bush is sort of like that wild uncle that seems to exist in every family, the one your parents prefer you not use as a role model. It's true your uncle stopped drinkin' and found Jesus, but he still seems to have no visible means of providing for the future. He tells you that he has 19 credit cards, none of them quite maxed out yet, and why don't you just get in the car with him and we'll just drive around the country and see what happens?
And of course, because Uncle George is a great story teller, and a lot of fun, you get in the car to see what will happen.
However, as a Bullmoose Republican, I have some misgivings as how this is going to play out.
It seems that we are both running out of soldiers and the money to pay them and no prospect of a draft or a tax increase; the usual, if unimaginative, method of solving such problems.
I harked back to a consultation I had had with Russ Cahill a few months ago. (We Washington types don't meet with friends of acquaintances, we "consult"; it sounds more impressive.)
Who is Russ Cahill? For those not tuned in, Russell Cahill is perhaps the most colorful character in the history of public land management.
A native Hawaiian, he had been a deputy sheriff in California, picked up a degree in biology, and joined the National Park Service. After a stint as a Valley Ranger in Yosemite, his career underwent a comet ascent, culminating as superintendent of Haleakala National Park and one of the youngest superintendents in the Service. Cahill was a multi-talented, multi-faceted Renaissance Man who could virtually name his job.
That was a problem as Cahill suffered from Bureaucratic Attention Deficit (BAD) which kicked in when supervisors proved not as creative, capable, or imaginative as him. In addition, Cahill was (and is) quite liberal as his father had been a West Coast Longshoreman and an enforcer for that rather left of center labor union. Thus, Cahill did not suffer conservative fools gladly. As some 87.3% of NPS executive management are Republicans (or a reasonable facsimile thereof, according to one study), Cahill was a bit lonely.
He resigned from the National Park Service and accepted the job of Director of the Alaska State Parks. He had a disagreement with the governor's office and resigned, later taking the job of Director of the California State Parks; after a number of accomplishments, he had a disagreement with that governor and resigned. He then accepted the position of Director of the Department of Natural Resources for the State of Washington. He was on the short list for Director of the National Park Service under Clinton, but lost out to Roger Kennedy when Clinton decided to play it safe.
I once asked Russ which was his favorite job. Cahill, a huge, very physical ex-footballer, replied that his most satisfying job was "throwing 100 pound cases of frozen fish in an Alaskan cannery. You go home with a real sense of accomplishment at the end of the day; something you don't get in bureaucracy!" He exclaimed.
As it happened, Russ was in DC, accompanying his wife, one of Washington's state's best trial lawyers who was to present a landmark First Amendment case before the Supreme Court of the United States. He wondered if I would like to have lunch with them. I agreed that it would be a pregnant idea.
Where should you meet for lunch in Washington, DC if one or more of the parties does not have a car, does not know the city or does not want the hassle of traffic and parking or is not as well heeled as a Defense Department lobbyist. Well, Ranger, I am about to lay some urban survival lore on you, so listen up.
Simply tell your acquaintance that you will meet them at the Thunder Grill in Union Station. They cannot possibly get lost as Union Station is a stop on the Metro, DC's version of a subway. They simply get off the train and take the escalator into Union Station. A map or a friendly merchant will point out the location of The Thunder Grill.
Is the Thunder Grill the best restaurant in DC? Not by a long chalk, neighbors, but it's far from the worst and a long, long way from the most expensive. (Yes, it's where the Great Bear eats when he is in town, incognito, of course!) It has a varied menu and there is usually a table available. So that's where I arranged to meet Russ and his wife for lunch.
Union Station was built in 1913 at the apex of the passenger train era. It is one of the most beautiful buildings in America, put together when marble, masons and sculptors were stone cheap. It is located in the center of official Washington, a few blocks from Congress, the Supreme Court and so on. Congressmen and their constituents could arrive from any state in the union with a minimum expenditure of shoe leather. The owners of Congress could discreetly park their private railroad cars at Union Station while overseeing their employees.
Despite the decline in passenger rail travel, Union Station is still one of the hubs of AMTRAK and the still viable Washington to Boston rail corridor. It is the transportation and even cultural center of Washington far more than Dulles International Airport ever was. There are very few airports in the world where you do not wish you were somewhere else. Union Station, with its Cathedral like halls, trendy shops, and good food, is a fun place to visit.
Union Station is also one of the National Park Service's little failures that we prefer not to talk about. The Station was given to the NPS and was to be THE NATIONAL VISITOR CENTER in which there would be commerce and shops and stuff like that and the NPS would tell people all about the wonders of America and so on. It sounded like a good idea, but we really aren't too good at that concession stuff. It is far, far better if somebody else owns and operates Gatlinburg or Dollywood and we take care of the birds, trees and lost hikers.
So, THE NATIONAL VISITOR CENTER was quietly deaccesioned and became part of that list of park units like Sullys Hill and Shoshone Caverns that didn't quite work out and the magnificent building went back to being Union Station, something it was very good at. Who owns Union Station now? Well, I don't know, but it's not the NPS.
Anyways, Joan and I arrived at Union Station at the appointed time and journeyed up the escalator to the Great Hall and The Thunder Café.
Although, I had not seen Cahill for a decade or more, there was no missing him. Built like one of those cast steel bollards that the Navy ties its aircraft carriers to, Russ sort of stands out.
He introduced us to his delightful, witty, and very modest spouse, (Now if I were going to try a landmark case before the US Supreme Court, I would be stopping waiters and tourists from Iowa and telling them not to miss my performance!)
I recommended one of the regional specialties of the house and one of the better microbrews and we got down to conversation.
The Supreme Court case involved a rather critical First Amendment separation of Church and State issue that had to be won due to the grim possibility that George W Bush might win another term and thus appoint 3 or 4 new justices each of whom would make Clarence Thomas seem like William O. Douglas. We collectively wished her Godspeed.
The talk turned to the environment and politics. I asked Cahill that in the event that Kerry was elected, would he consider coming out of retirement, like that other Director of the California State Parks, William Penn Mott, and accept the position of Director of the National Park Service. Russ gave an enigmatic smile and allowed as how Kerry would have to win first.
I expressed my growing doubts as a Bullmoose Republican as to whether the continued service of George W. Bush would be good for the country. (Cahill seemed to be miles ahead of me in arriving at that conclusion.) I was particularly troubled by the vexing military manpower shortage. The president had not called for a draft, but was making up the shortfall by retaining men in service; a form of involuntary servitude not designed to boost morale.
Russ grinned and said that a limited form of the draft would solve the manpower problem.
"How can you have a limited draft? I asked "That like being a little bit pregnant! People wouldn't stand for it! It would be most unfair!"
"People will stand for unfairness, if it is unfair to an unpopular class of people and not themselves!" Russ remarked.
"An unpopular class? Which unpopular class? I asked suspiciously
"You would simply draft the children of the rich!" Cahill added, mischievously.
Russ may be on to something! While a million dollars is not what it used to be, there are in excess of seven million people in the U.S who have assets of at least a million dollars. Not every family in the seven million would have military age children, but enough would have eligible children that such a limited draft would end the manpower shortfall! Brilliant!
But then I had second thoughts. One of the many advantages of being rich is the prevention of unpleasant things happening to you. "The Rich won't hold still for this! They will hire lawyers (Embarrased, I shot a sidelong, guilty glance at Mrs. Cahill)Š.and rightfully so, they will claim they are being discriminated against!
"No more so than the poor who have been discriminated against for centuries! We'll just make class discrimination de jure rather than de facto! It's more honest that way! Russ said gaily.
"It wouldn't work!" I said doggedly. "There would be too many loopholes, people would find ways of hiding assets. A wealthy person would find a way out!
"Ah! But that's the beauty of my plan! We will provide them with a way out! A legitimate, capitalist way out!"
"How so?" I asked
"Simple!" said Russ "Every rich person drafted will have the right to hire a substitute, just like in the Civil War. I suspect that the going rate for a substitute will be in excess of $200,000, but, hey! That's what money's for! And it would be a way of spreading wealth around!
I had to admit that solution had not occurred to me, but it would certainly mesh with the friends of this Administration.
I laid out my own analogy before the Cahills. If George Bush was the wild, spendthrift uncle and we were the increasingly doubtful nephews along for the ride, then sooner or later, the 19 credit cards would be maxed out somewhere in Alaska or Wyoming and there would be no credit for gas, lodging, or even food. Then what would happen?
I answered my own question "We would have to sell our sole remaining asset, the car."
In the case of the nation, just about the only assets the federal government has is real estate; that is the federal public lands, about a third of the country, So, to obtain funds, the government would have to sell off the national forests , BLM land, wildlife refuges and eventually, most of the national parks.
Cahill, a man of naturally sunny disposition, did not think the American people would hold still for such an outrageously lugubrious end to the national patrimony.
I suggested that Karl Rove or one of the other spin doctors would paint a happy face on it as a "reasonable", "logical" "commonsense" way out of our financial difficulties with the added advantage of disposing of "surplus" federal land that could be "recycled" back into the "market" economy, providing "development" and "jobs" and (local) taxes.
Russ was still unconvinced.
I played my trump card;
The Administration spin doctors will soften up opposition to the liquidation of the public lands by proposing a version of the Homestead Act for veterans; 160 acres of federal land if you are seriously wounded or agree to remain in the military for the full 20 years. It's true that nobody can make a living farming on 160 acres, but many growing Western cities like Los Angeles and Las Vegas butt up against Forest Service, BLM or Fish & Wildlife land. If these "City Frontier" lands were offered to veterans on a lottery basis, environmental groups would be faced with the ghastly choice of opposing a windfall for a wounded veteran or watching the National Patrimony speedily erode away.
Cahill raised an eyebrow and a grin "Are you shilling for the other side in your Golden Years?"
"Probably more money on Haliburton's side" I countered "But I'm not passing on any big secrets. The Cato Institute, the Conservative think tank has stated their belief that most public lands could be privatized in 20 years and all public lands, including the National Parks, could be privatized in 40 years, with the exclusion of necessary, military bases, of course. This would be a quick way of getting the ball rolling,
"That's not very optimistic!" remarked Russ
Russ, being an optimist, believed that Bush could be defeated. I cautiously referred to such groups as "Republicans for Kerry" and a long conversation I had at Olympic National Park with a very decent Republican Central Committeeman from Pennsylvania, who had been treating his delightful family to two weeks in a different national park for the past 20 years. His job was to deliver his wealthy Pennsylvania county for George Bush. However, as we sat in the historic cottage where President Franklin Delano Roosevelt stayed during his dedication of Olympic National Park, the Republican remarked to me that he couldn't bring himself to vote for these "environmentally destructive SOB's nor can I ask anybody else to do so."
So possibly, there was some hope!
As it turned out, of course, it was a forlorn hope, but it was worth maintaining.
There was one victory however. The next day after our lunch Russ watched his wife win her case before the U.S. Supreme Court in a proverbial landmark decision that made the major papers and the evening TV news.
EDWARD ABBEY
"He was a very hard man to live with" said his fifth (and final) wife, Clarke.
I suspect that he was. Abbey was a man you'd not meet everyday. Indeed, though we had mutual friends, such as the artist, John de Puy, who suggested that we get together, your editor took great care to see that our paths did not cross. I had a feeling that "Cactus Ed" and "The Christian Bureaucrat" would not see eye to eye on a number of matters.
In short, I admired Abbey in the abstract. I enjoyed Abbey's writing without being forced to enjoy Abbey. That is probably the best way to approach any writer, including the Christian Bureaucrat.
Writers tend to be scoundrels (Not all of them of course, but enough to skew the statistical norm) Abbey was no exception.
However, before Abbey came along, "Nature" writers were supposed to be an exception. They were supposed to be "inspirational" or "uplifting" or "poetical" or even (God help us!) "saintly". Names such as John Muir, John Burroughs, or Rachel Carson come to mind.
Abbey clearly broke that mold. There was nothing saintly about him, His response to food, drink, and women was more akin to Henry VIII than John Muir
Abbey "worked" as a seasonal ranger for both the National Park Service and the US Forest Service off and on for several decades. It was not a match made in heaven.
Abbey did not understand the Zen of Bureaucracy and the Bureaucrats did not understand the existentialism and anarchy of Edward Abbey.
Abbey, for his part, always had his priorities straight. If, for example, as Campground Ranger, Abbey's job was to clean the restrooms and restock the toilet paper, Abbey would be willing to do so. HOWEVER, if a long legged, willowy blonde lassie in the campground looked at all like she needed fulfillment, Abbey would have to reprioritize his work schedule. Sometimes the toilet paper never DID get restocked.
Now neighbors, as you know, the Twin Pillars of the Faith of the NPS bureaucracy are (1) Get your reports in on time and (2) Keep your restrooms clean. Do these two things and you will go far.! Abbey consistently failed the Restroom Test (and the Showing Up On Time Test, and occasionally, The Even Being Present Test).
The mission oriented (often the wrong mission) bureaucrats, for their part, did not quite understand how to make use of a natural resource like Edward Abbey. The toilet paper restocking duty should have been dropped from his job description and Abbey assigned to write reports. Something he was very, very good at, only he called them essays and books.
In the best of all bureaucratic worlds, Abbey would have been given the title and duties of GS-5 Cougar Habitat Inspector, provided with a truck, camping equipment, government credit card (limited to gas and groceries; no need to place undue temptation in Abbey's path), His assignment would be to check out all Cougar Habitat in North America and provide regular reports on what he saw and experienced to the NPS or Forest Service. While his paycheck would be dependent on the reception of the reports, Abbey could write about anything he encountered or thought about. He would not be in any regular contact with a supervisor (Something that always seemed to be a problem!) and could repackage his reports as books that he could sell to whoever wished to buy them.
Would such an arrangement have led to malfeasance or misuse of government funds? Probably, but not quite on the order of Haliburton, in Iraq and unlike Haliburton, the taxpayer would have something useful to show for his money at the end of the day.
Abbey hoped to be the great American novelist. He picked the wrong trail. His novels were overblown and stereotypical, with cartoonish heroes and villains. His real forte was the astringent, desert dry aphorism with which he skewered the wicked and his collections of long essays, really travelogues, in which he lyrically painted word pictures of his beloved and endangered Southwest. Many of his pithy remarks stick in the mind long after you have read them:
"Grown men do not need leaders.""Men love their ideas more than their lives. And the more preposterous the idea, the more eager they are to die for it. And to kill for it."
"Our Neoconservatives are neither new nor conservative, but old as Babylon and evil as Hell."
"The American West, including Alaska , is one of the few places left on earth where it is still feasible to make a stand against the zeal of the Growth Fanatics, the graph-paper mentality of the GNP economists, the replenish and forever multiply theology of the American Yahoo Church‹all of the descendants of those hordes of avaricious peasants (our forefathers) who swarmed across the Atlantic to fall like a plague of locusts, upon the sweet, lovely defenseless virgin lands of AmericaŠ.ŠIf we can draw the line against the industrial machine in the West and make it hold, then perhaps in the decades to come we can gradually force industry underground , where it belongs, and restore to other parts of our nation their rightful heritage of breathable air, drinkable water,, a democratic industrialism and a decentralized agriculture. Finally and most important, we can provide for every man, woman and child sufficient open space to make possible the fullest realization of human freedom. What good is a Bill of Rights that does not imply the right to play, to wander, to stillness and solitude, to discovery and physical adventure?"
The book that Abbey favored the least was the collection of essays that he wrote at what was Arches National Monument. The collection was published as DESERT SOLITAIRE and of course, much to Abbey's chagrin, became an environmental icon: The kind of icon that requires academic genuflection, inclusion on environmental course reading lists and presence in bibliographies and indexes. Abbey was almost embarrassed by the success of DESERT SOLITAIRE.
Abbey went on to write other collections of essays and several novels.
Then he died. Death is hard on a writer. (Yes, I know, folk wisdom has it that writers are immortal; that their works live on after them, but they really don't. Most writing goes out of style or becomes dated and the poor writer, being dead, is no longer around to revise and update his ideas and his books are placed in the morgue of university libraries; literary corpses visited only by graduate students in search of a suitably arcane thesis subject.)
This does not seem to be the case with Edward Abbey. Though his body has long since moldered away in a famously secret grave somewhere in the Southwest, his literary and environmental activist reputation remains alive and kicking.
Abbey was a hard writer to pigeonhole. He definitely did not want to be pinned down as an "environmental" or "Nature" writer, or even as a "liberal" polemicist. His rather xenophobic writings and rantings on the evils of unrestricted immigration in general and Mexican immigration in particular won him nearly as many enemies on the Left as his attacks on "Welfare ranching and logging", produced enemies on the Right.
Like many writers, Abbey invented and reinvented his persona. The comparison of "Grey Owl" (Archie Bellaney) and Edward Abbey is particularly interesting. Bellaney a middle class Englishman posed as an American Indian in the Canadian Rockies and worked as a seasonal Parks Canada Warden, wrote many books and articles laying the "Native American Environmental Philosophy" on a credulous public. Although denounced as a fraud and poseur, he meant well, and has been subsequently rehabilitated as one of Canada's most eloquent nature writers and environmentalists. In some circles, Abbey has also been denounced as a fraud and poseur for quite skillfully constructing an image of himself as a Zorro-like Anarchist and "Monkeywrencher" which simply was not the case of this rather shy, quiet and mild mannered man.
So, does Edward Abbey deserve some sort of a memorial? The answer seems to be in the affirmative if for no other reason than to provide an answer to the casual visitor as to why Abbey's name keeps cropping up in discussions of the past and future of the American Southwest.
It is true there is a historical marker near his birthplace in Home, Pennsylvania, but he really should be memorialized out West some place.
Arches National Park where he wrote DESERT SOLITAIRE is the obvious place.
Fortunately, the visitor center at Arches National Park is being refurbished and will be completed in August 2005. The National Park Service, with whom Abbey often sparred is going to commemorate its most famous ranger with an interpretive panel in the VC.
Superintendent Laura Joss and Chief of Interpretation Diane Allen have been kind enough to provide THUNDERBEAR with a preview of the Abbey exhibit.
According to the Park Service, there will be a photo of Edward Abbey, taken around the time of his service at Arches. The caption says "Edward Abbey spent much of his adult life exploring the desert canons of southern Utah. Two summers as a park ranger in Arches inspired his best known book, DESERT SOLITAIRE: A SEASON IN THE WILDERNESS.
The text of the two narrative paragraphs follows:
"Edward Abbey once said there will always "be something worth fighting for and something worth fighting against." In his book DESERT SOLITAIRE: A SEASON IN THE WILDERNESS, Abbey recounts his experiences as a seasonal ranger at Arches in the summers of 1956 and 1957 while living in a "little tin government house trailer" near Balanced Rock. The book has become standard reading for environmental activists and all who enjoy the solitude of the desert.Abbey interspersed eloquent descriptions of the natural history of the park with warning about "industrial tourism" and personal opposition to the planned development of Arches. Through DESERT SOLITAIRE, millions of people get a glimpse of Arches at a time when it was still a little known monument at the end of a little-used dirt road. The road is paved now and Abbey's trailer is gone, but his spirit lives on in the people who continue to search for the feeling of personal freedom evoked by this desert landscape."
Now neighbors, that is government writing at its rare best! Short and to the point!
Abbey would have like that.
BASS REEVES
Who was the best all around frontier lawman in the American West?
James Butler "Wild Bill" Hickok? Wyatt Earp? Bat Masterson? Bill Tilghman?
Actually, according to at least one expert, the honor should go to Bass Reeves.
Bass Reeves?
Yup! Bass Reeves. How come he was the greatest U.S. Marshall you never heard of?
Well, one reason might be that Reeves was a Black American and until fairly recently, we were not particularly interested in sharing the Mythos of the Western Frontier with our darker complexioned brethren.
Although THE WASHINGTON POST did an admiring article on the "Heroic Negro Deputy Marshal Bass Reeves" in 1907, the election of the genteelly racist Woodrow Wilson as President in 1912 spelled the beginning of a long period of suppressing Black aspirations and ignoring Black history and accomplishments.
Indeed, the hilariously funny send up of Hollywood Westerns, the 1970's Mel Brooks film "Blazing Saddles" used as its plot device, the concept of a Black sheriff. This was an outlandish idea to 1970's movie goers, that it was inherently unbelievable, sort of like a Jewish Indian, and thus very amusing.
There were quite a few Black cowboys, soldiers, miners, stage coach drivers and so on in the West. Hard, dangerous work was sort of what you did if you were a minority, be it Black, Chinese or Irish.
Law enforcement with a gun was something else. It was dangerous, yes, but there was also power: "Half the power of God on your right hip." as one Lawman famously observed. The idea of a Whiteman being arrested by an armed Black man was a concept that was not entirely accepted until the second half of the 20th century. Even the bravest, most skilled Black lawman would have been bushwhacked with relative impunity by those who did not care to face him.
In spite of this, there WERE a fair number of Black lawmen in the West. Most operated in Oklahoma under the auspices of the famous Federal judge Isaac Parker. Bass Reeves was one of them.
Now the reason Americans learn anything about the accomplishments of people like Bass Reeves is largely through the efforts of the National Park Service , Fort Smith National Historic Site , and its devoted superintendent Bill Black, whose ancestor rode with Bass Reeves. (How's that for connection to the park resource?) as well as writer/historians such as Art Burton, whose book BASS REEVES will be published by the University of Nebraska Press in 2005.
Fort Smith National Historic Site is one of these interesting nooks and crannies of American history, that like Bass Reeves, often is forgotten. Fort Smith NHS is sort of a de facto historic site for one of America's most iconic figures, the U.S. Marshall. The park visitor center has a panel on the accomplishments of Reeves and his contemporaries..
Bass Reeves was born a slave in Texas in 1838 and became the man servant to George Reeves, the son of a prosperous plantation owner. This position assured Bass of a good diet, no brutal field hand work‹and an insight into how the system worked as well as an understanding of the dictum "No man is a hero to his valet".
When the War of the Rebellion broke out George Reeves became Colonel of a regiment of Texas Cavalry and rode off to war, taking Bass along as servant as was the custom of Confederate gentry.
Bass was a reasonably loyal servant (rumor has it they were half brothers, which, given the custom of the time, was not impossible) and the two men enjoyed hobnobbing on a more or less equal basis. That included a game of cards after dinner. One night, sitting around the campfire, Bass and George were enjoying their usual game of poker when George accused Bass of cheating. Bass told George, he would overlook that if he took it back. George refused to do so, pointing out that he not only was a Colonel, but owned Bass. Bass responded by knocking the Colonel unconscious.
Now neighbors, even in today's relatively democratic army, knocking out the Colonel will get you something. In those days, it got you death. So Bass decided to join the Indians..
The Five Civilized Tribes, (Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek, Cherokee, and Seminole) who had been "removed" to Oklahoma, were nominally allied with the Confederacy, but took a liberal attitude toward an escaping Person of Color and Bass spent the next few years in an immersion course of Indian and frontier culture, learning all sorts of useful things riding,shooting,hunting, Indian languages, medicinal plants, religious beliefs and so on.
By the time he graduated at the end of the war, he had a Masters degree in Frontier Survival.
By this time, he had acquired a wife, children and a farm, but needed some cash. The US. Government in the form of Judge Isaac Parker was hiring U.S. Marshalls in an effort to put down the almost anarchic crime wave that was engulfing the Oklahoma and Indian Territories.
In 1875, Bass Reeves accepted a commission as US Marshall from Judge Parker, who according to Art Burton, had personally recruited him because of his honesty and skills.
You didn't go to U.S. Marshall School or a 19th century version of FLETC. You simply landed running, supplying your own guns, ammunition and horses. You were supposed to be good when you got there.
According to Burton, of the 200 marshals hired, 120 were killed in line of duty. It was that bad; an officer casualty rate never surpassed before or since.
Reeves served 32 years as a U.S. Marshall, rode approximately 75,000 miles, arrested and transported 3,000 fugitives, some of whom were the most rabidly feral outlaws on the North American continent. During this time he was never wounded and killed only 14 men.
Now neighbors, I realize that today, people might take exception to "only 14" as a bit excessive, but these were difficult times.
Due to the racism of the times, Reeves had to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Bad Man (Usually White) left him no choice. This usually meant letting the Bad Guy draw first (Just like the Lone Ranger; however, unlike the Lone Ranger, Reeves did not shoot the gun out of their hand, he simply killed them.) Reeves had great confidence in his skill with his weapons (two Colt 38/40's worn butt forward in a cross draw rig and his very dependable Winchester 38/40) and the knowledge that he was a better shot than most in the Territory (He was not permitted to participate in turkey shoots as he always won)
At over 6 feet and 190 pounds, he used his fists more than his guns to cow a bad guy. He was a sharp student of human nature and disguises; often using the racial stereotypes of the period to his advantage; playing a grinning, cringing "darkie" peddler on a broken down horse, until he got close enough to disarm his opponent and show him the silver star (No Miranda warnings, here neighbors!)
Despite all the danger, the imperturbable Deputy Reeves managed to run his farm and raise ten children, most of whom turned out to be solid citizens, with one exception.
After returning from a particularly trying foray in which 3 bad men had set up an ambush for him, forcing him to kill one of them and arrest the other two. Reeves returned to Fort Smith to learn that a warrant had been issued for the arrest of one of his sons for murdering the son's wife. The other deputies were willing to take the warrant, but Reeves insisted on going after the boy himself and brought him in alive after a two week chase. There were some extenuating circumstances and Reeves' son was eventually pardoned.
Bass Reeves, who died in 1910, was posthumously awarded the title of "Great Westerner" by the National Cowboy Hall of Fame.
According to Superintendent Bill Black, there is an excellent chance that the U.S. Marshall's Museum will be moved to Fort Smith, in which case, Bass Reeves, perhaps the West's greatest lawman will get even more recognition.
Those who would like to learn more about this interesting nook and cranny of American history are invited to read Art Burton's BLACK, RED, AND DEADLY.
GOD AND THE GRAND CANYON
There is something about Grand Canyon that makes religious fundamentalists uneasy. They really seem to wish that God had skipped the Grand Canyon, as it is so difficult to explain.
But there it is, ready or not; lying naked in the Arizona sun, layer after layer of geological pornography and heresy, waiting to tempt the True Believer.
Now it always struck your editor as somewhat blasphemous to tie the Lord God of the Universe to an earthly time system; forcing Him to wear a gold Rolex wrist watch set for all Eternity to Jerusalem Standard Time. However, that's the way some Fundamentalists prefer to look at it. Now there's nothing wrong with being a Creationist. Actually, it is a very popular idea: Senator John Thune of South Dakota, who replaced Tom Daschle, is a Creationist.
So, at Grand Canyon National Park, generations of grim faced Fundamentalist tax payers would confront generations of earnest ranger naturalists about just how old these rocks really were and Who made the Grand Canyon anyhow?
Most rangers were kind, conciliatory and diplomatic: One quick witted ranger, upon being challenged about Who exactly had the contract to dig the Grand Canyon, simply drew a line on his note book: "Did I make that line or did my pencil?"
Other rangers were less conciliatory; I recall one ranger acquaintance, a geologist and a howling atheist who immensely enjoyed butting heads with the fundamentalists. "The old geezers are cramming for their Finals! They think they are getting brownie points with the Lord by debating me, but I'll make 'em work for it!" glowered Terry with great enthusiasm.
Creationism sort of bubbled along in a back burner sort of way at Grand Canyon for years.
Then along came The Evangelical Sisters of Mary, a Protestant religious group founded in Germany during World War II.
The Sisters decided that the Canyon needed some religious inspiration. This was during the 1960's when the National Park Service was doing its amiable best to please everyone, particularly the more vocal religious everyones.
So, the Sisters came up with three plaques that could be attached to the walls of buildings on the south rim of Grand Canyon. These structures, Desert View Watchtower, Hermit's Rest, and Lookout Studio, were areas where Thoughtful Meditation and Contemplation were thought most likely to occur (As opposed to say, the Bright Angel Bar)
The Desert View Watchtower plaque had a line from Psalm 66 "All the Earth worships Thee; they sing praises to Thee; sing praises to Thy name"
The Hermit's Rest plaque quoted Psalm 68 "Sing to God, Sing praises to His name; Lift up a song to him who rides upon the clouds; His name is the Lord. Exult before Him."
The Lookout Studio plaque had Psalm 104 as well as an unattributed poem.
The Psalm is "Lord, how manifold are Thy works! In wisdom hast thou made them all; the earth is full of Thy riches"
The poem goes
"Father Almighty, wonderful Lord
Wondrous Creator, be ever adored
Wonders of nature
Sing praises to You
Wonder of Wonders
I may praise too!"
Now neighbors, this is mainly taken from the Old Testament of the Bible and is non denominational, something that Jews and Christians could agree upon.
Also, remember that the plaques were put up more than thirty years ago, when America was less culturally diverse than it is today (Liberals tend to dance past that fact, implying that George W. Bush nailed them up about two weeks ago, with Dick Cheney steadying the ladder!)
Like I say, things sort of bubbled along for decades, with each year bringing a handful of letters from disgruntled Free thinkers to the Grand Canyon superintendent protesting about the endorsement of Religion etc. The Free Thinkers apparently got GRCA form letter 51 B, basically thanking them for their interest in the park and their willingness to take the time to complain and noting that their complaint would be properly filed.
Generally speaking, nothing much happened until the summer of 2003 when the Department of Interior solicitor's office determined that the plaques were probably in violation of the First Amendment i.e. Separation of Church and State. The superintendent, Joe Alston, dutifully took them down and returned them to their owners The Evangelical Sisters of Mary.
"Not so fast" said Deputy NPS Director (and former lay preacher) Don Murphy Mr. Murphy decided the matter needed more study, and in the interim, Joe Alston was to get his screwdriver and put them back up. The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) an outfit that is as unbending and humorless as any fundamentalist group has given Joe Alston 30 days to unscrew the plaques or they will sue. (As you know, a superintendent is always between a rock and a plaque)
Now what can be done? (Not that either Joe or the ACLU has asked me!)
Well now, I suppose you could plaster the place with plaques. A quote from each major and minor religion on God and Nature. You could hear from the Hindus, The Confucians, the Buddhists, The Jains, The Moslems, The Zoroastrians, and The Sikhs and so on. Every religion would be allowed to put up a plaque with their favorite God and Nature saying. It would be very educational and no one would be left out.
Or you could put up some vague New Age non religious spirituality and call it even for everyone.
Or you could simply revert to pre-plaque days and suggest that everyone internalize their spiritual or religious experience.
It occurred to me to ask Thunderbear about God's thoughts on the Grand Canyon. After all, God had created the Grand Canyon, along with everything else, so His opinion should count for something.
The Great Bear was doing curatorial work preparing a collection of Terran specimens for shipment to the Celestial Center on the far side of the Universe. It was tedious work and Thunderbear was glad of an excuse for a break.
He eased his 2,000 pounds into his specially reinforced Lazee-Bear Recliner, spread his iridescent 28 foot wings in a feathered yawn, popped a can of Grizzly Beer, and asked what he could for me.
"What does God think of the Grand Canyon?"
"Don't know" the Bear responded
"How can you not know? He built it, didn't He?
"Well yes, in a manner of speaking, however most of the actual work was done by God's agent."
"God's agent?"
"Yes, water. Holy water, if you prefer" said the Bear piously, rolling his eyes heavenward.
"But what does God think of the Grand Canyon?
"Like I say, I don't know. God has never been to Arizona."
I was appalled.
"How can God not have been to Arizona?" I asked incredulously
"Easy, if you think about it" Thunderbear said somewhat impatiently. "There are 8 trillion worlds in God's section of the Universe, with more planets coming on line every eon. Do you think God has the time to check out all the geography in each and every hard scrabble planet, particularly those in the frontier galaxies? You were lucky to get one visit!
(Thunderbear was referring to Christ's memorable 3 year work study program in the Holy Land, which ended painfully. "I told Him not to mention religion" said the Great Bear defensively "There's nothing that sets you humans off like religion, but no!, He knew best!")
"Then Christ never got out of the Middle East?" I inquired.
"Well, according to the Book of Mormon, Christ got as far as Southern Mexico."
"That would account for His Mexican first name!" I said excitedly.
"On the other hand, I can't vouch for that account as I was on Celestial Leave when it was supposed to have happened. Anyways, the Grand Canyon is not mentioned in the Book of Mormon, so we can safely say that God has not visited Arizona, although that might be a distinct possibility in the future.
"But what does God think about the plaques?"
"How the Hell should I know!" The Bear said irritably. "Myself, I would think of the producers as a bunch of oleaginous, apple polishing, smarmy, simpering, backstabbing hypocrites who shouldn't be trusted with their own planet."
"Can I quote you on that?" I asked, awestruck.
"Yup!" replied the Bear, drawing another beer.
THE SAFETY MESSAGE
At last! What you have struggled for all these weary pages! The Safety Message! The one, the sole reason you have used your government computer to (quite legally) access THUNDERBEAR!
You are required by your performance standards to take at least a passing interest in Safety & Loss, and, by God! You have demonstrated your loyalty, Determination, and Devotion to Duty by struggling through all the previous poppycock to arrive at The Safety Message! So here it is!
Today's message deals with the prevention of Influenza, or simply "The Flu".
Normally, I would nag and nanny you about getting your annual Flu shot. However, as you are famously aware, there doesn't seem to be any vaccine.
The callow Canadians seem to have enough, in spite of their persistent wallowing in inefficient socialized medicine; likewise, the effete Europeans.
So how did we get the short end of the stick?
Well now, that's an interesting story! Seem we done "outsourced" public health by having about half the vaccine manufactured in somebody's obscure subsidiary in the UK. Sanitation, it seems, wasn't quite up to par and at least some of the batch was contaminated. The good news is that an alert Public Health type spotted this before we all got our Flu shots and started to mildew from the inside out. The bad news is that the whole batch had to be thrown out and since you need months of lead time to churn this stuff out, we are entering the Flu season with only half the normal load of vaccine.
Is this bad? Not from the point of view of the Influenza virus. You see, for a really productive year, Influenza requires millions of interacting, two legged Petri dishes. That would be you and I.
With millions of cases of Flu and the Influenza virus multiplying, and more importantly, mutating, the larger the chance of a return to the good old days of 1918, when we had the most spectacular pandemic ever to hit the human race. Some 30 million died before it ran its course.
Today's flu is a messy, unpleasant, inconvenience that lasts a week and normally doesn't kill you. However, if it has enough Petri dishes and mutates into something like the "Spanish Flue" of 1918. We are in big trouble.
So how do you prevent Flu with a vaccine? Well now the Public Health doctors suggest that you get plenty of rest, don't overstress yourself, eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, particularly those containing vitamin C as well as a balanced diet, get regular exercise, avoid sick people and wash your hands.
Now neighbors, this is the kind of advice you can get off the back of a box of breakfast cereal. You don't need seven boring years of med school to figure that out.
The reason for the above vague prescription is that is about all modern medicine can do for you. Viruses remain the so far unconquerable Mount Everest of medical research. Once a virus has gained a foot hold in you, be it Smallpox, rabies, or the Flu, there is not much medical science can do for you except treat the symptoms.
So can you prevent Flu? Well now, you have already done what you can. As supervisor, you have selflessly given up your chance for a flu shot, donating the opportunity to front desk receptionist who is vulnerable due the large number of daily public contacts. (Very much like a gentleman giving up his seat on one of the Titanic's lifeboats!)
There are several non vaccine things you can do. A surgical mask is surprisingly effective (That's why surgeons wear them). You will however, look a bit weird wearing one with a Smoky Bear hat. The Public Health folks will probably issue an advisory on masks if it looks like a Pandemic is coming down. In which case you will have plenty of company. It might be a good idea to lay in a stash of masks to avoid the rush.
The other simple thing to do is wash your hands. You touch your face and food more times than you think and you touch surfaces that others have touched far more times than you think. It is a good idea to get into the habit, indeed the compulsive habit of washing your hands.
Not always practical? You really don't need sink, soap and water. All drug stores sell a generic or name brand of liquid hand sanititizer that will fit in pocket or purse. The active ingredient is usually Ethyl Alcohol (with a bit of wood alcohol added, so you won't be tempted to drink it.)
There is etiquette involved. It is impolite and even a career destabilizer to haul out your bottle of hand sanitizer immediately after shaking hands with your boss, the President, or Norella. The polite thing to do is to smile and offer the sanitizer to the other person.
All of this could have been avoided by a little foresight on your part. Had you thought ahead and successfully ran for Congress, you would have no problem. They have their Flu shots.