GOLD BEACH -- On any given day, there may be no place in Oregon prettier than Curry County. Broad flat beaches, many littered with agate and quartz. The Rogue, Elk, Illinois and Chetco rivers rushing from forest to sea. The Kalmiopsis Wilderness. And on any given day, in winter, at least 10 degrees warmer than where you're at. The far southwest corner is Oregon's banana belt.
On this given day, however, in a chilly, unadorned room at the Curry County Fairgrounds, 24 people sit at bare tables shaped into a U. Powerpoint presentations flash up front. A pair of mediators bustle a cordless microphone here and there, because you have to take turns speaking.
It's the end of November. Curry County government may fold next summer. The federal faucet that poured $230 million a year into Oregon counties is shut off. The political stalemate in Washington stymies a restoration.
Curry's not alone, just the first. Coos, Josephine, Klamath and Lane counties -- all deeply dependent on federally owned natural resource land -- are bunched up to follow Curry off the cliff.
The 24 people meeting at the fairgrounds are supposed to figure out a solution.
The dissolution of an Oregon county hasn't happened before. It may not be legally possible. Questions outnumber answers.
If there's no county government, who runs the jail, issues marriage licenses, records deeds, adjusts lot lines, inspects restaurants, counsels juvenile delinquents and assesses property? Who sends out the tax bills? Where do you send the payments?
Curry knew this day was coming but didn't do anything. About 61 percent of its general fund and 65 percent of its road fund revenues came from federal payments.
Without timber payments, Curry's expenses will exceed general fund revenue by more than $350,000 in 2012-13. The deficit grows to more than $3 million the next year, the county projects.
"It's anybody's guess," Commissioner Dave Itzen says, "how long we last."
Sheriff John Bishop grabs the microphone. He's a big man with a shaved head, wearing a coat and tie. Beneath his jovial persona is a no-nonsense coastal cop.
"I don't know how many more rabbits I can pull out of the hat," he tells the committee.
His patrol division has five deputies and a lieutenant to cover 80-some miles from Langlois to the California border south of Brookings; once there were as many as 16. Two jailers per shift watch more than two dozen prisoners. Two 911 dispatchers per shift, sometimes one, handle calls for deputies, two city police departments, eight fire districts and four ambulance companies.
Bishop says the jail is a lawsuit waiting to happen. "An absolute disaster," he says. Its fire suppression system doesn't meet standards; heating and ventilation are inadequate. The annual budget for inmate food, clothing and medicine is $147,600. If an inmate gets hurt, as when one attempted suicide a couple years ago, the hospital bill could exceed the budget.
In a letter to Bishop last August, an Oregon State Police lieutenant said troopers based in Gold Beach can't help except in life-threatening emergencies.
Two community corrections officers supervise 160 people on parole or probation. The sheriff's office gives a sex offender a bus ticket to travel unaccompanied to Coos Bay for treatment.
Bishop gives a knock-on-wood grimace and says it's worked, "so far."
*
"I don't know how many more rabbits I can pull out of the hat," he tells the committee.
His patrol division has five deputies and a lieutenant to cover 80-some miles from Langlois to the California border south of Brookings; once there were as many as 16. Two jailers per shift watch more than two dozen prisoners. Two 911 dispatchers per shift, sometimes one, handle calls for deputies, two city police departments, eight fire districts and four ambulance companies.
Bishop says the jail is a lawsuit waiting to happen. "An absolute disaster," he says. Its fire suppression system doesn't meet standards; heating and ventilation are inadequate. The annual budget for inmate food, clothing and medicine is $147,600. If an inmate gets hurt, as when one attempted suicide a couple years ago, the hospital bill could exceed the budget.
In a letter to Bishop last August, an Oregon State Police lieutenant said troopers based in Gold Beach can't help except in life-threatening emergencies.
Two community corrections officers supervise 160 people on parole or probation. The sheriff's office gives a sex offender a bus ticket to travel unaccompanied to Coos Bay for treatment.
Bishop gives a knock-on-wood grimace and says it's worked, "so far."
*
The federal and state governments own 60 percent of Curry County, much in the Rogue River-Siskiyou National Forest. Sometimes, county residents approach Alan Vandiver on the street and let him know things would be better if the U.S. Forest Service just opened up the woods for more logging.
Vandiver, the Gold Beach district ranger, is a patient man with a mustache. He hears them out, then asks, "Are you aware we sold 20 million board feet off the Powers and Gold Beach ranger districts last year?"
He acknowledges the districts might have produced 80 million board feet of timber annually, back in the old unsustainable days. Today, logging is part of a puzzle that includes jobs, owls, fish, recreation, watersheds.
"Could we responsibly cut more for the right reason?" he asks. "Yes."
He believes balance is necessary and possible. That means a healthy forest and still allowing people to make a living on public land: guides and outfitters, loggers, brushcutters and truck drivers, mushroom pickers.
"It's not an either-or situation," he says.
*
It is gospel in Curry County that Mike Keiser, developer of the internationally acclaimed Bandon Dunes golf courses and resort, first wanted to build near Gold Beach. True or not, missed economic opportunity is a sour spot in the community memory. Bo Schindler, general manager of Freeman Marine Equipment recalls attending a meeting at Bandon Dunes and stepping outside to count 110 golf bags at the first tee.
"At $225 a pop!" he exclaims.
Imagine that tourism money here, the grumblers say, not to mention property taxes. Instead, Keiser built in Coos County, just north.
When the commissioners tried to jump into golf course development last summer, the deal fell apart. It required a land swap of more than 600 acres in the state-owned Floras Lake State Natural Area, and the state wasn't interested.
The commissioners approved another golf course and destination resort development at Crook Point, between Gold Beach and Brookings, but environmental groups appealed. The state Land Use Board of Appeals sided with them and sent it back to the county.
Schindler, thick-set and bearded, doesn't know what to say. He's no fan of government or property taxes, but he voted for 2010 levies for law enforcement and schools, neither of which passed. "If you don't care about kids and public safety..." he begins.
Freeman Marine, where's he's worked 36 years, is a homegrown success. Founded in 1975, it manufactures doors, windows, hatches and portlights for ocean-going vessels all over the world. Schindler partnered with Dugie Freeman and his family, impressed by their work ethic and ambition.
He doesn't know the solution for county government.
"Curry County is just the tip of the iceberg," he says. "It's just the first one."
*
Suspicion and pessimism cut through the conversation.
Curry hasn't shown any "bounce back" from the recession, says Guy Tauer, an economist with the state. The unemployment rate in September: 12.2 percent. Payroll figures for July, the most recent available, showed employment declined to about 6,300 jobs.
"That continues a streak of job losses that goes back to 2006," Tauer says. Five years.
Some are quick to blame environmentalists or "socialists" for blocking development. Others complain about perceived waste, salaries and benfits of public employees.
At the county committee meeting, the power blinks off twice. In the audience, resident Maggie Runyan leans over and stage-whispers, "Didn't pay the bill."
Runyan describes herself as a child of the Depression who made do with less.
"Don't tell me the county can't cut expenses."
In an ongoing poll by the Curry Coastal Pilot newspaper, 53 percent of 1,200 respondents say they'll vote no on any new taxes. About 27 percent would; the rest are wait and see.
*
At Riley Creek School, Principal Tom Denning displays a "snack pack" sent home with students on Fridays. Juice boxes, granola bars, pudding and beef jerky in a brown paper sack. Teachers noticed kids dragging, Denning says, and realized they hadn't eaten. The packs get them through weekends. If they have brothers or sisters, students can take extra.
Denning says 210 of the 317 students go home with snack packs. Two-thirds.
Denning has been principal since 1999, when he moved his family from Phoenix, Ariz. He and his wife wanted a small, safe community for their two daughters, now in college.
At the end of that first school year, the superintendent told Denning and the high school principal to cut.
"It seems like we've had that same meeting every year since."
Timber receipts once gave small rural school districts top-notch music, P.E., art and science programs. The school district hit the wall ahead of county government, Denning says. Parent volunteers keep the band alive but the science club is dead. Riley Creek, K-8, has two janitors who clean two hours a night. Building maintenance is a matter of "defer, defer, defer," he says.
The school had about 500 students at one time.
"The parents who can move are moving," says Denning, who was appointed to the citizen's committee.
He says loss of county services will be more reasons for parents to leave.
*
Jeff Griffin approaches the microphone. He's tall and slender, with a reserved bearing. He's from the governor's office, assigned to find intergovernmental and regional solutions. He doesn't have good news.
Oregon Sen. Ron Wyden sponsored a bill to restore federal funding four more years, at reduced amounts. The bill has a chance in the Senate, but not in the House, Griffin says.
Meanwhile, a bill in the House to restructure federal resource land management and designate land for harvests might pass the House, Griffin says, but not the Senate. Even if either passed, counties wouldn't immediately see more money.
Finally, the state has no money to cover county losses. Sorry.
*
Dewey Powers appears tableside in his shirt and tie and with deferential manner. He's the owner of Spinner's, a steak, seafood and chops restaurant along Highway 101. One reason he enjoys winter: Business slows enough that he can take a shift waiting tables and chat up guests. During summer tourists flock to eat and there's sometimes an hour wait for a table.
As a business owner, Powers says he's had to cut, cut, cut. His friends and customers include managers with the county's leading industries -- Freeman Marine Equipment and South Coast Lumber -- so he knows they've done the same.
But Powers knows enough county employees, including his sister, to keep his budget opinions to himelf. He'll say this: It's disheartening to think Curry County could dissolve. "We hope not."
*
On any given day, people carry on.
The day after the first citizen's committee meeting was sunny, 60 degrees and not a breath of wind. Dewey Powers drove to Bandon Dunes to play. Shot in the mid-80s.
About the same time, a Canadian conglomerate called Advanced Marine Technologies was wrapping up the purchase of Freeman Marine. The new owners said Freeman Marine will stay in Gold Beach, and Bo Schindler and Dugie Freeman will remain with the company.
The following Saturday, the Gold Beach Panthers beat the Scio Loggers 30-0 to win the state Class 2A football championship, a reversal of last year. John Bishop, the sheriff, was one of the Panthers' assistant coaches.
Denning, the Riley Creek principal, cheered the result.
"That is good, really good. The community really takes it to heart, stuff like that."
--Eric Mortenson
Vandiver, the Gold Beach district ranger, is a patient man with a mustache. He hears them out, then asks, "Are you aware we sold 20 million board feet off the Powers and Gold Beach ranger districts last year?"
He acknowledges the districts might have produced 80 million board feet of timber annually, back in the old unsustainable days. Today, logging is part of a puzzle that includes jobs, owls, fish, recreation, watersheds.
"Could we responsibly cut more for the right reason?" he asks. "Yes."
He believes balance is necessary and possible. That means a healthy forest and still allowing people to make a living on public land: guides and outfitters, loggers, brushcutters and truck drivers, mushroom pickers.
"It's not an either-or situation," he says.
*
It is gospel in Curry County that Mike Keiser, developer of the internationally acclaimed Bandon Dunes golf courses and resort, first wanted to build near Gold Beach. True or not, missed economic opportunity is a sour spot in the community memory. Bo Schindler, general manager of Freeman Marine Equipment recalls attending a meeting at Bandon Dunes and stepping outside to count 110 golf bags at the first tee.
"At $225 a pop!" he exclaims.
Imagine that tourism money here, the grumblers say, not to mention property taxes. Instead, Keiser built in Coos County, just north.
When the commissioners tried to jump into golf course development last summer, the deal fell apart. It required a land swap of more than 600 acres in the state-owned Floras Lake State Natural Area, and the state wasn't interested.
The commissioners approved another golf course and destination resort development at Crook Point, between Gold Beach and Brookings, but environmental groups appealed. The state Land Use Board of Appeals sided with them and sent it back to the county.
Schindler, thick-set and bearded, doesn't know what to say. He's no fan of government or property taxes, but he voted for 2010 levies for law enforcement and schools, neither of which passed. "If you don't care about kids and public safety..." he begins.
Freeman Marine, where's he's worked 36 years, is a homegrown success. Founded in 1975, it manufactures doors, windows, hatches and portlights for ocean-going vessels all over the world. Schindler partnered with Dugie Freeman and his family, impressed by their work ethic and ambition.
He doesn't know the solution for county government.
"Curry County is just the tip of the iceberg," he says. "It's just the first one."
*
Suspicion and pessimism cut through the conversation.
Curry hasn't shown any "bounce back" from the recession, says Guy Tauer, an economist with the state. The unemployment rate in September: 12.2 percent. Payroll figures for July, the most recent available, showed employment declined to about 6,300 jobs.
"That continues a streak of job losses that goes back to 2006," Tauer says. Five years.
Some are quick to blame environmentalists or "socialists" for blocking development. Others complain about perceived waste, salaries and benfits of public employees.
At the county committee meeting, the power blinks off twice. In the audience, resident Maggie Runyan leans over and stage-whispers, "Didn't pay the bill."
Runyan describes herself as a child of the Depression who made do with less.
"Don't tell me the county can't cut expenses."
In an ongoing poll by the Curry Coastal Pilot newspaper, 53 percent of 1,200 respondents say they'll vote no on any new taxes. About 27 percent would; the rest are wait and see.
*
At Riley Creek School, Principal Tom Denning displays a "snack pack" sent home with students on Fridays. Juice boxes, granola bars, pudding and beef jerky in a brown paper sack. Teachers noticed kids dragging, Denning says, and realized they hadn't eaten. The packs get them through weekends. If they have brothers or sisters, students can take extra.
Denning says 210 of the 317 students go home with snack packs. Two-thirds.
Denning has been principal since 1999, when he moved his family from Phoenix, Ariz. He and his wife wanted a small, safe community for their two daughters, now in college.
At the end of that first school year, the superintendent told Denning and the high school principal to cut.
"It seems like we've had that same meeting every year since."
Timber receipts once gave small rural school districts top-notch music, P.E., art and science programs. The school district hit the wall ahead of county government, Denning says. Parent volunteers keep the band alive but the science club is dead. Riley Creek, K-8, has two janitors who clean two hours a night. Building maintenance is a matter of "defer, defer, defer," he says.
The school had about 500 students at one time.
"The parents who can move are moving," says Denning, who was appointed to the citizen's committee.
He says loss of county services will be more reasons for parents to leave.
*
Jeff Griffin approaches the microphone. He's tall and slender, with a reserved bearing. He's from the governor's office, assigned to find intergovernmental and regional solutions. He doesn't have good news.
Oregon Sen. Ron Wyden sponsored a bill to restore federal funding four more years, at reduced amounts. The bill has a chance in the Senate, but not in the House, Griffin says.
Meanwhile, a bill in the House to restructure federal resource land management and designate land for harvests might pass the House, Griffin says, but not the Senate. Even if either passed, counties wouldn't immediately see more money.
Finally, the state has no money to cover county losses. Sorry.
*
Dewey Powers appears tableside in his shirt and tie and with deferential manner. He's the owner of Spinner's, a steak, seafood and chops restaurant along Highway 101. One reason he enjoys winter: Business slows enough that he can take a shift waiting tables and chat up guests. During summer tourists flock to eat and there's sometimes an hour wait for a table.
As a business owner, Powers says he's had to cut, cut, cut. His friends and customers include managers with the county's leading industries -- Freeman Marine Equipment and South Coast Lumber -- so he knows they've done the same.
But Powers knows enough county employees, including his sister, to keep his budget opinions to himelf. He'll say this: It's disheartening to think Curry County could dissolve. "We hope not."
*
On any given day, people carry on.
The day after the first citizen's committee meeting was sunny, 60 degrees and not a breath of wind. Dewey Powers drove to Bandon Dunes to play. Shot in the mid-80s.
About the same time, a Canadian conglomerate called Advanced Marine Technologies was wrapping up the purchase of Freeman Marine. The new owners said Freeman Marine will stay in Gold Beach, and Bo Schindler and Dugie Freeman will remain with the company.
The following Saturday, the Gold Beach Panthers beat the Scio Loggers 30-0 to win the state Class 2A football championship, a reversal of last year. John Bishop, the sheriff, was one of the Panthers' assistant coaches.
Denning, the Riley Creek principal, cheered the result.
"That is good, really good. The community really takes it to heart, stuff like that."
--Eric Mortenson
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