The Battle over Hetch Hetchy: America's Most Controversial Dam and the Birth of Modern Environmentalism

by Robert W. Righter

  Both sides understood that engineering expertise would be important. Through statistics, San Francisco would have to prove its need, and the Sierra Club would have to prove otherwise. To accomplish its task, Colby needed to find a competent engineer, one able to dispute the facts and figures of City Engineer Manson and his staff. Did San Francisco truly need the water? Did the city need to submerge the valley to fulfill its future water requirements? The eternal subtlety between want and need would be central to the debate.

  The club's difficulties in finding an engineer willing to testify is revealing. After consulting a number of candidates, Colby and Joseph N. LeConte settled on Charles Gilman Hyde, a highly respected hydraulic engineer and professor at the University of California.9 Hyde agreed and asked for reimbursement for travel, food, and lodging and a fee of $15 a day. But then a strange metamorphosis weakened the professor's resolve. On May 6, only 12 days before the scheduled hearing, Hyde wrote Colby that he had worried himself sick and had concluded finally that he should not testify. His friends and colleagues had advised him against involvement, and university administrators were fearful that the school's good name might be brought into the matter. He could not undertake work that "would jeopardize the best interests of the institution." Colby understood what had happened. In a letter to Muir he surmised that "President [Benjamin Ide] Wheeler probably persuaded him that it would be detrimental to the University for him to represent us." 111 Persuade may be too gentle a word, forWheeler was a good friend of Gifford Pinchot and had privately and publicly supported San Francisco's aspirations. Furthermore, he did not believe that professors were free to speak their minds. Academic freedom had limits, and Wheeler insisted that "the university should be harmonized to the demands of its constituency." 11

  With Hyde silenced, Colby searched the fraternity of hydraulic engineers, a tight little knot not easily loosened, especially when asked to testify against an engineering project. He wired Edmund A. Whitman, the attorney and leader in the Appalachian Mountain Club, to find him an engineer ready to testify for $Soo. No luck. He finally found Philip E. Harroun, a Berkeley engineer familiar with Hetch Hetchy. But Harroun asked for $1,050 to testify, and Colby confessed that "the money situation is going to be rather a hard one to handle." 12 Harroun testified and received his salary, but it took more than six months to scrape together the full payment.

  After a delay to May 26 to accommodate the schedules of the army engineers, the appeal hearing got under way. Harroun did a commendable job in presenting statistics showing that San Francisco had no real need for Hetch Hetchy water for years to come. Manson, of course, disagreed. He pleaded that the city had not had time to collect all the necessary hydrological data but, clearly, Hetch Hetchy was necessary for its water project to succeed. Edmund Whitman objected. Manson had had plenty of time to gather data. The city just hadn't done it. Whitman and others argued a four-point program that included the heart of the defenders' solutions. The secretary should revoke the Garfield grant but confer Lake Eleanor-Cherry Creek water rights to San Francisco. This watershed land should be removed from Yosemite National Park and placed in the adjacent Stanislaus National Forest, thus leaving park land inviolate. Finally, a code for the entire national park system should be enacted to prevent future encroachment on the parks' dedicated purpose.13

  The preservationists' program offered a reasonable solution, and point 4 certainly anticipated the National Park Act of 1916. But Ballinger, after hearing all testimony, followed a moderate course by granting San Francisco time to make a study of other water sources sufficient for the Bay Area. Also, the city must design its proposed Hetch Hetchy system and evaluate its damage to the scenic features of Yosemite National Park. In essence, Ballinger instructed San Francisco to prepare what today we would call an environmental impact statement. The city must submit this statement to a special Board of Army Engineers, which would make a recommendation to the interior secretary.

  Although the burden of proof still lay with the city, those who hoped to shield the valley from development were disappointed. They had hoped that Ballinger would raise roadblocks, forcing the city leaders to abandon the Hetch Hetchy Valley and search out other available water sources. They had hoped to strike, as Colby put it, "a telling blow," but now the city had escaped and even acquired a new ally-time.14

  Meanwhile, changes and charges on the national political stage impacted Hetch Hetchy. By the summer of 1909 Gifford Pinchot sincerely believed that Secretary Ballinger was dismantling the Roosevelt-Pinchot conservation policy. He did not hesitate to speak out, particularly with a flurry of charges that Ballinger had made inappropriate grants of coal lands in Alaska. This clash, which became known as the Ballinger-Pinchot controversy, was, in the opinion of Pinchot's biographer, responsible for the loss of authority of both Pinchot and Ballinger, and eventually President William Howard Taft.15 In September 1909 Pinchot and President Taft met privately in Salt Lake City. Pinchot said he could not change his often hostile opinions and he would not be muzzled. Taft countered that he would not like to lose "Pinchot's valuable service to the nation." Reflecting on that meeting, Pinchot realized that Taft "might be forced to fire me." In a letter dated January 7, 19io, Taft did just that, charging that Pinchot had acted like a muckraker without evidence. The forester, whom historian Elmo Richardson has called "a White Knight-righteous, audacious, and restless," was out of office, but not invisible. He would still be influential in the Hetch Hetchy controversy. Ballinger was somewhat vindicated in a subsequent congressional investigation that filled 13 volumes of testimony.Yet his authority was undercut and his motives became suspect. Some believed that his request that San Francisco "show cause" was nothing more than a political move to enrage Gifford Pinchot-an avid supporter of the city's claims. Discouraged by criticism and failing in health, in March 1911 Ballinger sent Taft a letter of resignation, which the president accepted.16

  President Taft, perhaps intent on appointing a low-profile secretary of the interior, chose Walter L. Fisher of Chicago. His views on conservation were little known, but on the surface the new secretary would probably favor San Francisco's interests, for he was good friends with both Garfield and Pinchot, and he was seen as a "commodity conservationist" 7Yet the valley defenders were not disheartened by Taft's choice. In a reassuring letter to Colby, Stephen Mather, soon to become the first director of the National Park Service, mentioned that he had known Fisher for nearly 20 years and that he felt sure he would be a splendid man for the post. Mather went on to say that he had gathered a few people to talk over the Hetch Hetchy situation and that "Mr. Fisher was one of them and he had a good chance to hear our side of the case." Any decisions from him "will be the outcome of a fair and unbiased judgment." 18 Harriet Monroe agreed.

  One of the first letters that Secretary Fisher received was from San Francisco city attorney Percy Long, who wished to inform the secretary that "the City expects to be governed by Mr. Freeman's conclusions and judgment as to the presentation of this case [Hetch Hetchy] in response to the order to show cause." r 9 It seemed that significant changes were being made in San Francisco as well as Washington. The city had hired engineer John R. Freeman as a consultant to further the Hetch Hetchy project and essentially replace Marsden Manson. It was a propitious move by the city, one which would eventually checkmate the valley's defenders. For San Francisco a new chapter opened with the appearance of Freeman, whom President Taft had recommended to the city and who was, perhaps, the most prestigious hydraulic engineer in the United States. Based in Providence, Rhode island, he had assisted in the design of water works in Boston, Newyork, and other major cities. He had consulted with William Mulholland in the construction of the Los Angeles aqueduct system. He commanded respect among his fellow engineers, and opponents and politicians were wary of questioning his engineering conclusions. Even conservationists had a certain trepidation in disputing his assumptions regarding aesthetics and landscape. If San Francisco was ever to win the right to darn the Het
ch Hetchy Valley, Freeman was the professional to do it. He had informally consulted with San Francisco leaders well before January 1912. But now San Francisco would be governed by his judgment, at the princely salary of a retainer of $2,5oo a year plus a per diem of $20o a day when away from his home office.20

  One of the results of Taft's appointment of Walter Fisher and San Francisco's employment of John Freeman was that the whole democratic decision-making process for Hetch Hetchy slowed down. Fisher wanted time to become better acquainted with the issue. Freeman wanted time to design his Hetch Hetchy system and write his report. Furthermore, Marsden Manson had suffered a nervous breakdown in early 1912 and went on a reduced workload. Before his retirement, Ballinger had set another Hetch Hetchy review for December 1, 1911, but Fisher postponed that date. With the interior secretary amenable to San Francisco's requests for time, the year 1912 became one of granting extensions so that the city might prepare its case. Its advocates were somewhat confused, struggling with a strategy. Perhaps they should consider a direct appeal to President Taft? Some supervisors wished to go directly to Congress.21 The scheduled March meeting came and went, as Fisher rescheduled the meeting for June and then November. Since the city used Manson's health as the reason for asking for delays, the valley defenders questioned whether Manson's breakdown was genuine. After the June hearing was canceled, J. Horace McFarland wrote that he hoped that "we can finish the `knockout' in the fall, although if Manson can again be conveniently ill, he may secure more time." McFarland suggested that it would be good to know the extent of Manson's illness and just how much he was absenting himself from his office. Writing from Boston, journalist Allen Chamberlain edged closer to the truth when he suggested that Manson's illness and the subsequent delays look "like an effort to put off action until after the presidential election." Some feared that the delay allowed Representative John Raker of California, an avid proponent of San Francisco's claims, to introduce a bill to grant San Francisco the valley. However, both Fisher and Allen Chamberlain assured the West Coast supporters that no legislation would precede the hearings scheduled for December 1.22

  While Manson appeared to be incapacitated, John Freeman was not. During the first half of 1912 the talented engineer and his staff had compiled a massive document that fulfilled Ballinger's and the army engineers' request that San Francisco demonstrate the need for water, indicate how it would be obtained from the Tuolumne River watershed, and assess what its possible damage to the scenic features of Yosemite National Park might be. In short, the Freeman Report would "show cause" why San Francisco should have the Hetch Hetchy Valley. It was a massive, 401-page document printed on heavy, lacquered pages, suitable for the reproduction of photographs. The volume weighed five pounds, eight ounces.23 The thick, red-covered volume proved a turning point for the city.

  What the report articulated most brilliantly was the artful suggestion that a reservoir in the Hetch Hetchy Valley, far from damaging the beauty of Yosemite Park, would actually enhance it. It would become a destination place for pleasure-bound tourists. The first 52 pages displayed the beauty of still water, particularly reservoirs. With a skillful narrative and large-scale photography, pages depicted reservoirs in Norway, the British Isles, and the eastern United States. As one turned the pages, it was evident that utility could be blended with beauty, valleys improved by darns, and reservoirs en hanced by roads. Eastern reservoirs, such as a brimful Croton Lake, featured walkways with couples dressed for a turn-of-the-century afternoon stroll. If a visitor preferred a less strenuous activity, "hundreds of automobiles tour around this artificial lake each pleasant Sunday afternoon in summer." For further proof of the salutary effects of reservoirs, Freeman offered Lake Thirhnere, the water storage unit for Manchester, England. At one time opposed by locals, the roads around the reservoir "have come to be one of the most popular holiday routes in England, and are much traveled by coaching parties, automobiles and groups of cyclers."24

  In his photography Freeman showcased a touched-up Hetch Hetchy reservoir, treating the reader to the scene of a totally calm lake reflecting the cliffs and waterfalls in the background. Another virtual photograph showed roads on both sides of the reservoir with the caption, "View of the lake from near the proposed hotel site." Replacing the word reservoir with lake, the report promised that the outlet pipes in the dam would be placed "so high that the lake never could be wholly emptied," thus partially avoiding the "bathtub ring" associated with reservoirs at low water.25

  At the same time, Freeman depicted the valley in its present condition as a very miserable place. According to U.S. Army figures (the army administrated the park up to 1916), only 269 visitors had frequented Hetch Hetchy since 1909, many of them San Francisco engineers and employees, and Sierra Club members who enjoyed summer outings. Freeman suggested that this dearth of visitors was, in part, a class issue. Since no roads existed, a couple would have to reserve a week of time, then hire horses and a guide, thus spending around $200 to visit the valley. Few Americans could afford such a vacation. Once there, one either was too hot or was plagued with mosquitoes. In other words, not only was the unimproved Hetch HetchyValley expensive to visit, but it was not a pleasant place for humans and never would be unless transformed. Once the city built a road, the great valley would be physically and economically accessible to average Americans intent on touring the Yosemite and the Hetch Hetchy Valley. Freeman asserted that once an attractive reservoir had cured the mosquito problem, the length of the tourist season would triple.26

  The report maintained that Hetch Hetchy was merely a poor substitute for Yosemite Valley, admittedly beautiful but relatively tame and uninteresting compared to its grand and varied counterpart. Why not create something new and original? "The flooding of the valley floor . . . would present features different from anything found in the Yosemite or elsewhere in California." Furthermore, the waterfalls would remain. In essence, the Hetch Hetchy Valley's value was in its scenery and as a splendid water supply. `By care in the designs, the use for water supply can be made to add greatly to the scenic value," creating a beautiful lake in a spectacular valley that thousands of people would enjoy in the next century.27 Hetch Hetchy as a reservoir, in Freeman's estimation, could serve both the needs of the "nature lover" community and that of San Francisco for an adequate supply of pure water.

  FIGURE 9. This springtime photograph of the valley shows in the right foreground the small lakes that Whitney found charming. Engineer John Freeman and dam advocates saw them as mosquito factories that made the valley uninhabitable. Courtesy of theYosemite National ParkArchives and Library.

  Part 2 described the new design of the whole Hetch Hetchy system, including the darn, development of water storage at Lake Eleanor and Cherry Creek, a downstream electrical power station, an elaborate underground pipe system, and the 15o-mile aqueduct featuring an ingenious gravity system that eliminated the need for pumping stations. The Freeman plan was more grandiose than the Grunsky plan (1902) or the Manson plan (1908-1911), but Freeman argued that "in ten years' time the state of the art of water supply has advanced and the San Francisco problem has broadened."28 Furthermore he envisioned a population explosion that would reach 3,632,000 for San Francisco, Oakland, and the surrounding Bay Area towns by the year 2000.29 While the Freeman system would initially create a water surplus, in time the anticipated 400 million gallons per day would be needed.

  Freeman was also expected to evaluate all other possible water sources. In other words, he had to examine the many other rivers that flowed down the long Sierra Nevada slope, as well as a couple of lakes and the Sacramento River. In an impressive section of 21 appendices, he found all of them inferior to that of the Tuolumne River in quantity or quality of water, in hydropower production, or in the ease of acquiring water rights. Contesting the Spring Valley Water Company data, the report questioned whether the private company could fulfill the future needs of the city.30 Later some of this New England engineer's data would be compromised by revelatio
n of his shoddy research methods, but for the lay reader it was most convincing, particularly since Freeman was, as historian Donald Jackson notes, "never reluctant to remind businessmen that they were ill-equipped to comprehend the complexity of technological systems."31

  The appearance of the Freeman Report left the defenders of Hetch Hetchy in a momentary state of shock. Robert Underwood Johnson wrote Colby that "I have the big book . . . and am appalled by the enormity of the publication." McFarland called it "a most portentous document." Harriet Monroe had received "San Francisco's enormously weighty report" and confessed that even if she could "read every word of the voluminous report, I probably should not know what to say in reply." William Colby, so industrious and committed, would soon write a brief in response, but even he was overwhelmed by the heavy red book, confessing in mid-October that he had read some of Freeman's work but only scanned much of it.32 In sheer size the work was daunting. No one knows exactly how much money the city of San Francisco spent in salary and production costs, but the report was worth every dollar. Kevin Starr was right when he noted that "most reports are filed and forgotten. Some have a partial effect on the decision-making process. A few reports, the very few, envision and help materialize the fu- ture."33 The Freeman Report was of the latter variety.