by Jerry Apps
“So who blew up our million-dollar drilling machine? They caught the bomber yet?”
“No, they haven’t. The sheriff is right over there.” Karl pointed to a police cruiser with Sheriff written on the side. “Talk to him.”
“You damn bet I will, but I’m talking to you first. Just what in the hell is going on here? You got any ideas? You’re supposed to have your finger on the pulse of this community.”
“I thought everything was under control.”
“You thought. You thought! We pay you to know, not to think. So how did it all go down?” Evans was a little less red in the face, and his voice had come down from the near yelling he was doing when he first stepped from his car.
“Ever since the deal was struck between Alstage and the Link Lake Village Board, a half dozen or so protestors were marching in front of this park entrance every day. It seemed the locals mostly ignored them. Nobody seemed to know who they were, and everyone assumed they were some wide-eyed liberals from Madison who didn’t have anything better to do.”
“I get that part. We have protestors of one kind or another at nearly all of our proposed mine sites. But they usually don’t blow up million-dollar mining machines.”
“Nobody has said the protestors blew up the machine.”
“Well, who else would? Tell me what else you know.”
“Like I said, once people learned that a big machine had arrived, everything changed. Everywhere I went in the community, people were talking again about the mine and the fact that it looked like it was a sure thing that it would open in the park.”
“Well, talk doesn’t blow up a machine.”
“I realize that, but right after the machine arrived someone defaced the big map of the mine site I put on the bulletin board at the village hall. And then the number of protestors grew to twenty or more.”
“Then what?”
“Kaboom, was the next what,” Karl said. “It shook the whole town, rattled the windows, and rattled a lot of nerves too. The explosion woke me up.”
“The explosion also blew up a million-dollar machine,” Evans said under his breath.
“Oh, and then there’s the eagle nest,” Karl said.
“Yeah, I remember. Blast blew the eagle nest all to hell and killed some eagles. You told me all that before. What I’m worried about is when those federal Fish and Wildlife people get here and start nosing around. Any feds here yet?”
“Not that I know about. I heard the injured eagle is being cared for by an old vegetable farmer who lives just out of town. An old guy who stutters and talks to animals. Met him once. Interesting guy,” said Karl.
“Well, that’s great,” Evans said sarcastically.
“So what are we going to do about all this?” asked Karl.
“You’re supposed to be our man on the ground. Don’t you have an idea?”
“Well, I’d suggest we call a community meeting and explain everything that we know—we are the victims here, you know. On the plus side of this mess, blowing up one of our machines and killing some bald eagles might be just what we need to bring some of those people who opposed the mine to our side of the table. This should surely tip the fence-sitters in our direction,” said Karl.
Evans was quiet for a bit, pondering what Karl had just said.
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said since I got here. I think you’re right. We are the victims here. Nobody condones destroying private property. Let’s make the most of what surely looks like a miserable situation on the surface,” said Evans. He even had a hint of smile on his face.
Later that afternoon, Karl and Evans met with Marilyn Jones and Mayor Jessup to discuss their next steps. The mayor was especially agitated by all that was happening in his little, once quiet and peaceful town. Wringing his hands, he said several times, “Nothing like this has ever happened in Link Lake before.” Obviously he didn’t remember the story of the bank robbery back in 1900.
Marilyn Jones, with a steely look in her eye, said, “I think we should face this head on. We may be a small town, but we’re also a tough town. Do you guys have a plan?” She was looking at Karl Adams and Emerson Evans.
“Yes, yes, I do have a plan,” said Evans. “I suggest we call a general meeting and invite everyone in the community to come. We’ll tell people what we know, ask the local police to say a few words about progress in catching the perpetrator or perpetrators, have both of you say a few words about the importance of a sand mine coming to Link Lake, then I’ll wrap up—with the hope that we can turn a few fence-sitters toward our way of thinking.” Evans made no mention that the plan really had been Karl’s. Karl stood off to the side, saying nothing.
“We’ll set up the meeting for tomorrow evening, at the community room in the library,” said Marilyn, who was clearly buying into the plan. Mayor Jessup stood silently by, wringing his hands. He was still mumbling, “Nothing like this has happened in Link Lake before. Nothing like this.”
A half hour before the start of the meeting, the Link Lake Library community room was filled to capacity. People were standing four deep behind those with chairs and people were still coming through the door.
Marilyn Jones asked the mayor to chair the meeting, but he declined and suggested Marilyn was much better at this sort of thing than he was. Mayor Jessup stood at the door, greeting people as they arrived and thanking them for coming. “Typical politician,” mumbled Fred Russo when he and Oscar Anderson arrived.
A few minutes after eight, the time set for the meeting, Marilyn Jones stood up, took the microphone, and said, “I’m Marilyn Jones, chairman of Link Lake’s Economic Development Council. Welcome to this special meeting where we hope to bring you up to date on the unfortunate event that occurred yesterday in our wonderful Increase Joseph Community Park. We are all still numb from what happened. To think that someone would set off a bomb and destroy a valuable piece of equipment. I asked several people to say a few words about what happened and what will be the next steps. First, our esteemed Mayor Jon Jessup.”
Mayor Jessup took the microphone from Marilyn and, still looking a bit unnerved by all that happened in the past couple days, began speaking. “Nothing like this has ever happened in Link Lake before. Our quiet little town is simply devastated. Absolutely devastated. I’m sure you all wonder whether the bomber has been caught. So here is Officer Jimmy Barnes, who was first on the scene of the explosion and has been working on the case with the help of the Ames County Sheriff ’ s Department. Officer Barnes.”
“Well, what we know is that a big machine from the Alstage Sand Mining Company blew up yesterday morning. We don’t yet know for sure, but it would appear that someone or several people may have been responsible for the act. We continue to collect evidence and ask that if anyone in this audience heard anything or saw anything suspicious to call the Link Lake Police Department. Our office is devoting all its resources to apprehending the person or persons who committed this act. One more thing before I sit down. I’d like to ask Mr. Ambrose Adler to stand. I think you all know Ambrose, but I doubt that you know that he has agreed to take care of a baby eagle that was blown from its nest. We all appreciate that very much.”
A reluctant Ambrose Adler rose to his feet to a round of applause from the audience as Marilyn Jones once more took the microphone. “Let me add my thanks, Ambrose,” Marilyn said, but Ambrose knew that she really didn’t mean it. He had never forgotten the role Marilyn had played in ruining his happiness with her sister, Gloria. And Marilyn had as little to do with Ambrose as possible, as she blamed him for tearing apart her family.
“Let’s move on,” Marilyn continued. “We are pleased to have with us Emerson Evans from La Crosse, who is an official with the Alstage Sand Mining Company.”
Evans walked up to the podium and took the microphone.
“First I would like to introduce you to Karl Adams.” Karl stood up and held up his hand. “Some of you know Karl; many of you probably have seen him around town and wondered
who he was and what he was doing. Well, Karl works for us. And it was Karl, and a considerable sum of our company’s money, I might add, that helped plan and finance several of your recent community activities.”
Karl caught Emily’s eye, and he immediately felt bad that his identity had to be revealed in this way, and that he had not told her the truth when he first met her. She was shaking her head in disbelief.
Oscar Anderson turned to Fred Russo and whispered, “So that’s who that guy is. Wondered about that.”
Evans continued, “Our company has so much looked forward to coming to Link Lake, opening a new, modern sand mine, and, I must say, adding several high-paying jobs to the community. We, like all of you, are disappointed with what happened yesterday morning. We lost a million-dollar drilling machine, but we are not deterred. We are still planning on opening the mine in October, as we earlier announced.” Evans paused while many of those in the audience applauded.
“I know there are those who oppose a mine opening here. I understand that, but I also hope that it was not someone from the community responsible for destroying our machine. It is one thing to protest; it is quite another to destroy private property, especially property that is worth a million dollars.” Another round of applause, with nearly everyone clapping this time.
“I know many of you are concerned about the destruction of the Trail Marker Oak tree. It’s unfortunate that we have to remove it, but with the unique geology of your park, there is just no other way we can move our equipment in and out and haul the sand out of the mine without removing that old tree.” Evans paused for a moment, noticing that several hands had gone up in the back of the room. Without recognizing them, he continued. “We have discussed the situation at our main office, and we have decided to do the right thing. With the lumber from that old oak tree, we will employ a craftsman to make benches, each with a brass plaque that will cite some of the history of that old tree. I don’t know how many benches there will be, but there will be several and the historical society can place them around Link Lake as they choose.”
More clapping from the audience, all but the members of the Link Lake Historical Society. They sat silently.
Billy Baxter from the Argus was one of those who had his hand up several times to ask a question, but he was not recognized. When the meeting was over, he pushed to the front to talk with Evans. “No comment,” he said when Baxter asked him to say more about his company’s plans for the sand mine in Link Lake.
42
Emergency Meeting
The day following the big community meeting, Emily Higgins called an emergency meeting of the Link Lake Historical Society.
“All of you were at the community meeting last night and heard what the Alstage mining people had to say,” she started. “I must say I was shocked at what I heard. I was surprised to learn that Karl Adams works for the mining company. When he first came to town he stopped by the museum. He said he was interested in history, and I gave him a tour. I thought at the time that he was very nice young man. Now I think he was just trying to butter me up. I also didn’t know that mining money helped with our Fourth of July and the Trail Marker Oak Days—all of that is more than a little disturbing to me. I had a feeling about what was going on, but didn’t have it quite figured out.”
“That bothered me too,” said Oscar Anderson. “That mining company tried to buy us off.”
“Sure looks that way, doesn’t it,” said Emily. “I’ve got to ask another question,” she continued. “And I want a truthful answer.”
The room became very quiet.
“Does any of you know who blew up the mining company’s drilling machine?”
No response.
“I’ve got to know that none of the members of our historical society or the historical societies that helped us were involved with this illegal act. If a historical society member was responsible, our cause is lost. And if I hear that a historical member was the culprit, I will turn that person in myself.” Emily stood ramrod straight, the sternest look on her face that anyone had ever seen.
You could hear the old regulator clock tick as Emily waited for a reply. Fred Russo finally broke the silence. “Emily, I can’t imagine anyone from our group or any other historical society would do such a thing. We’re all old enough to know better—besides, I don’t think any of us is smart enough to do it.”
A few people chuckled.
“Okay, then,” said Emily. “What do we do now? We surely can’t continue our protest marches—I don’t think the police would allow us even if we wanted to.”
“I just don’t know what we can do,” someone sitting in the front row said. “Looks like no matter what we do the mining company will start digging in October. And we’ll be left with a few oak benches scattered around town as reminders of the Trail Marker Oak.”
“There’s got to be some action we can take,” said Emily. “This is not the time to give up. We’ve got to keep fighting, but let’s be clear. For heaven’s sake, no destruction of private property and no violence. All that does is play into the mining company’s hand—they’ll claim they are victims and some people will feel sorry for them.”
Oscar Anderson held up his hand.
“Oscar,” said Emily. “Do you have an idea?”
“I think this environmental writer, this Stony Field guy, could help us out. Does anybody here know how to get in touch with him, to let him know what a predicament we’re in with this sand mine?”
“I surely don’t know how to contact him,” Emily said. “Anybody here know how to reach him?”
Not one hand went up. Sitting in the back of the room was Ambrose Adler, who tried hard to attend all of the historical society meetings. He was the only one in the room who knew how to contact Stony Field.
When Ambrose returned home that evening, he unlocked the door to his office, pulled back the chair at his desk, rolled a fresh sheet of paper into his Remington typewriter, and began typing.
FIELD NOTES
More Problems in Link Lake
By Stony Field
You will recall I have been writing about little Link Lake, Wisconsin, and the turmoil created when a sand mining company won the approval of the Link Lake Village Board to open a mine in the village park, and in doing so, remove a historic tree known as the Trail Marker Oak. The local historical society, with the leadership of its longtime president, Emily Higgins, put up a vigorous fight to overturn the village board decision.
Unknown to the majority of the citizens in Link Lake, the mining company sent in an undercover operative to “soften up the community” with good deeds and Alstage money. It nearly worked as people’s minds turned from concerns about a sand mine coming to their community to having a good time with celebrations financed by the mining company.
But the focus on the mine and the realization that it was indeed going to open became real when the company brought one of their huge drilling machines to the park a couple weeks ago. The Link Lake Historical Society, in a last-ditch attempt to stop the mine and save the Trail Marker Oak, organized daily protest marches at the park, enlisting not only their own members but those of historical society members in neighboring communities to help with the effort. The marches were peaceful, people noticed, and I’m told citizens once more began discussing whether a sand mine was a fit for this little, rather bucolic community.
Then, much to the concern of everyone, both those for and those against the mine, unknown perpetrators blew up the drilling machine, claimed to be worth a million dollars by the mining company.
Readers of this column know that I have not been afraid to stand up and speak my mind about what I believe is right. But never have I suggested violence or the destruction of private property as an approach for protecting the environment.
Destruction of private property generally results in a backlash—in the case of Link Lake, my guess is those who were sitting on the fence or against the sand mine are now leaning toward accepting it. These folks ha
ve come to see the mining company as a victim of an illegal act—which it is.
In a well-attended community meeting, an official of the mining company took this very stance—that the company is a victim. Even though the company lost an expensive piece of equipment, in the long run it has gained from the destruction of the machine.
Perhaps we will never know who the perpetrator or perpetrators of this illegal act were, but I would point out to everyone reading this column that such actions usually result in the opposite of what is intended.
As a result of the unfortunate illegal act, the Link Lake Historical Society, which has led the opposition and had hoped to overturn the village board’s decision, does not know which way to turn. My Link Lake informant tells me that some members of the historical society are ready to throw in the towel and accept the coming of a mine to their community.
As someone once said, “It’s not over until it’s over.” When people believe in a cause and have evidence to back up their beliefs, then the rallying cry should be to keep trying. Another apt aphorism is “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
So here is what I am suggesting to the readers of this column who want to stand behind the members of the Link Lake Historical Society in their fight to save their Trail Marker Oak and prevent a sand mine from coming to their village park: Write letters to the editor of your newspapers. Send letters to the Link Lake Village Board and the mayor of Link Lake. Write to Marilyn Jones, chairman of the Link Lake Economic Development Council, and express your dismay with their support of a sand mine in a village park. Write civil, thoughtful letters. But write. The future of Link Lake, Wisconsin, depends on it.
43
Cooling Off
After the community meeting, both Emerson Evans and Karl Adams agreed to allow things to cool off a bit before the company resumed preliminary exploratory drilling at the proposed mining site. Evans returned to La Crosse, and Karl stayed on in Link Lake, working with the Ames County Sheriff ’s Department to help determine the cause of the explosion. The sheriff ’s department brought in a specialist to help determine the type of explosive device used, which they thought might lead them to the perpetrator. After an extensive search of the area that resulted in no evidence of explosive materials, and the inability to locate witnesses who might have seen something suspicious in the park the day previous to the explosion, the investigation reached a dead end.