CHAPTER 20: More Than She Can Chew
In Seattle, Paula Karmin of the Wildness Society, Michelle Harder of Sequoia Club and Mike Tate of the Washington Resources Defense Council were meeting for their monthly discussion on timber issues. Media was Item 3 on the Agenda.
After the comments Grace had made, they were concerned about the direction her story might take. They’d spent years cultivating her as a reliable, reputable reporter for their views and anything she wrote carried weight.
The three conferred on strategy. Since Mike had the best relationship with Grace, he was chosen to contact her, check on how things were going.
“I called Grace’s editor at The Trib and complained about the luncheon meeting, how she let Dr. Smith interrupt,” said Paula. “Combine that with the UCLA fiasco—I mean, really, how many timber industry reps did they have planted in that audience?”
Michelle had a worried look. “Maybe contacting her editor was premature?” she asked.
“Maybe,” said Paula. “But better to have it in her file.”
“Then I’ll confer with Legal,” said Michelle. “It’s probably not necessary, but—”
“I heard Grace is staying with the Armstrongs,” said Paula. “OSHA violations? Any Clean Air or Clean Water Act fines? Isn’t Dragonfly River under consideration for a Wild and Scenic Rivers designation? And what about that inholder parcel in Jackson Valley? I heard they might try to log it. Explore these areas; ask Legal what they can find?”
“Great ideas,” said Mike. “We all have our tasks.” Michelle and Paula nodded.
“Now, on to Item 4,” said Paula. “Litigation.”
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Chase Stanford groaned as he read Grace’s rough draft and rubbed his perpetually sore neck. There’s a lot good in here, he thought, but this business angle could be tricky.
Michelle Harder of the Sequoia Club in Seattle had called complaining that Grace had been unprofessional in an interview. She’d arrived late and allowed a man at the next table to completely disrupt the session.
That incident at UCLA, he thought. Off-target writing. Unprofessionalism. Burnout? When was the last time Grace took a vacation? He sent a quick email to the Personnel Department to find out.
Sometimes, he thought, reporters evolve. Start their careers covering one area only to end up in another. Is Grace evolving from eco reporter to business reporter, a completely separate world?
Chase emailed the Business Editor—including passages from Grace’s draft and notes—and suggested an alliance on the story.
He moved on to the next reporter’s outline and threw up his hands in despair. No! No! No! he thought. This is dreadful!
Grace Newman and her timber story were quickly forgotten.
<><><><>
The Editor of the Business section read Chase Stanford’s email.
Rockefellers, for Christ’s sake! he thought, adding a note of concern above Chase Stanford’s with a mention of the UCLA incident, before forwarding the file to Geoffrey Tobin, the Senior Editor.
<><><><>
Unaware of the potential storm she was creating, Grace spent most of the day on the phone chasing quotes from government agencies, Congressional staffers, timber companies, environmental groups and labor union reps. It was slow going. Staffers were happy to supply background stats, but offering an opinion was another issue. Grace tossed in a question about a possible alliances of mutual benefit between environment advocates and multi-national business interests. No one bit. She replayed her interview with Dr. Smith, listened to his advice:
But the US is not the world. If I were a young logger, I’d avoid anywhere practicing digital-totemism—spotted owls in the Pacific Northwest, red-headed woodpeckers in the Southeast, totems, packaged and sold to urbanites for profit. A natural life is finished here. Regulated out of existence. We’re infested with parasites and they’re now consuming the host. If I were a young logger, I’d look for a place harvesting lightly over a large area, somewhere with sensible local regulations, a place with small towns connected to a varied and working landscape. If I were a young logger, I’d find that place and take my chances, hope it lasts, try to defend it.
Grace called Dr. Smith and asked, “You mentioned you’re writing a report for a client. May I ask for whom?”
“The research paper is for a consulting firm.”
“May I ask which one?”
“Resource Trends International,” he said.
“Are they a think tank?” asked Grace.
“RTI is the Brussels-based research arm of MTI in Geneva.”
Grace’s heart jumped. “MTI? Montreux Trading International?” she asked.
“You’ve heard of them?”
“Yes,” she said, “yes, I have. What can you tell me about them?”
“A well-respected family has owned MTI for generations. Frédéric Trinité is the current director, although I believe his father is still on the board. They have an excellent reputation as conservative investors. They commission dozens of reports annually through RTI on a variety of subjects.”
“How well do you know Frédéric Trinité?” queried Grace.
“Not at all. I’ve met him and his father at a few receptions, primarily at after-conference gatherings, but I doubt they’d recognize me on the street. I’ve never seen them in the audience at meetings, but I’m sure Frédéric Trinité watches the best presentations, culls ideas from those. That’s how he found me, after I gave a presentation on Indonesian timber. The first time his people called, they were seeking a researcher on trends in global timber sourcing. That was 20 years ago—no, 25 years now. How quickly time passes! My contracts have been through RTI in their Brussels office, but a few times funding and direction came from their London office.”
“Are any of these reports in the public domain and may I read the report you’re working on now when it’s finished?” she asked.
“I can’t release any of the reports, but you could ask RTI. They use them internally for a few years,” he said. “Then a version is made available for a fee through the International School of Forestry in Brussels. Eventually they donate the reports to universities where they are doomed to gather dust on library shelves. Maybe some will be digitized, I don’t know.”
“Yep,” she said. “I just Googled RTI and your name, yielded five reports, running about 20 pages each. Sound about right?”
“Not really. The original papers were over 300 pages each, including footnotes, charts, graphs. Do you see any images?”
A pause. “None. No charts or graphs at all. In fact, none of these papers are even footnoted.”
“Well, that’s not very helpful, is it?” he said. "Irritating. I think they got tax deductions for those donations. I’ll wander down to the library here and see what they have. Twenty pages or three hundred. Would that be useful?”
“Very much so. Thank you!”
“Anything else you need?”
“That’s it for now. Again, thank you so much for your time,” said Grace.
She ended the call and paced, nervousness building inside her. Outside the rain turned to hail, then back to rain again.
As Dr. Martine had suggested, Grace Googled the Net International Investment Position of the nations of the world. She found a good chart for the US position, but it hadn’t been updated since 2014:
In 1980, the United States’ net international-creditor position was the highest on the planet. By the end of 1986, it was already a net-debtor nation with a negative -$107.4 billion. By the close of 1990, the US had reached the world's largest debtor nation status.
The cost of 20 years in Vietnam, the Cold War, the exodus of manufacturing overseas? wondered Grace.
She dug deeper into the data, found an update from 2014 through the third quarter of 2023. It was miserable.
At the end of 2022, America’s net international investment position was a negative $16 trillion. By the end of the third quarter of 2023, it was a negative $18 trillion.
Russia closed out 2022 in the black, at +$761 billion, and rose to $828 billion by September of 2023. Ukraine war? thought Grace. Canada and Singapore were both positive at the end of 2022 at +$1.1 trillion each. Germany closed out 2022 at +$3 trillion and Japan at +$3.4 trillion. At the end of 2022, tiny Taiwan sparkled at +$1.76 trillion.
China closed out 2022 in a strong positive position at +$2.1 trillion, plus it controlled Hong Kong, at +$2.1 trillion, putting the China/Hong Kong nexus in first place with over +$4.2 trillion.
Grace refilled her coffee mug and returned to the desk, logged into The Tribune’s news database. There were thousands of articles written about the decline of the US manufacturing base, the movement of industries and extraction of raw materials offshore, on overseas development by public and private corporations. Grace read several articles on a century of work removing trade barriers, the US and other countries bestowing Most Favored Nation, MFN, status on market-based economies.
Communist countries, which did not run on profit and loss principles, were seen as unfair competition and excluded, but, after the fall of the Soviet Union, Congress authorized billions in aid under the Freedom for Russia and Emerging Eurasian Democracies and Open Markets Support Act of 1992, the FREEDOM Support Act. Designed to support Russia’s transition from communism to capitalism, it was sold on the idea that American workers would somehow benefit from ventures revitalizing Russian infrastructure, its timber, gas, oil and mining industries. In 1996, Russia and all of the former Soviet states were granted MFN status. China was given permanent MFN status in 2001.
Government agencies dispensed billions in taxpayer-guaranteed loans and corporate tax breaks globally, providing security for offshore ventures under the guise of “American international cooperative economic development” and “American jobs development”. This model was repeated around the world, supported by funds from US agencies, US loan guarantees, US risk insurance and the US-supported World Bank and United Nations.
US taxpayer-backed debt is benefiting the world, thought Grace. What does it all mean for small towns with all these big players, these unelected entities, orchestrating the global future?
Jackson’s dream of local control is making sense, thought Grace. Hell, how many American workers actually got a healthy community out of this push for globalization? America has abundant resources, but it lost its triple A credit rating in 2023. Did globalists simply lock all those resources up, saddle the country with debt, turn it into the planet’s greatest debtor nation? Did they raid the US Treasury without ever firing a shot?
She scribbled in her notebook:
Crony Capitalism + Globalism - Loss Of Local Control = Debt + Conservation Refugees
Grace looked out the window. Dark clouds foretold another storm moving in from the north and she had an uncomfortable sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
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To calm herself, Grace went through the motions of checking her voice mail, emails, texts. Mike Tate wanted her to call. She did and he picked up. “Grace!” he said. “How are you? Wet enough for you?”
“Unbelievable,” said Grace. “This place will have a difficult time competing against SoCal for tourism dollars.”
He laughed. “So, Paula told me about how Dr. Smith disrupted your lunch.”
“I feel terrible about that,” said Grace. “I’ll call Paula and Michelle to apologize and set up another lunch, something more focused.”
“Good,” he said.
“Dr. Richard Smith—know him?” asked Grace.
“Oh, yes,” said Mike. “Been around forever, a real character. So, how’s the story coming? Any scoops? Find the loggers setting the fires?”
“Not yet,” she replied. “Do you have time for a quick interview?”
“Sure,” said Mike.
“OK, all set. I’m recording this, Mike. Why don’t you introduce yourself?” she asked.
“Mike Tate, Western Regional Project Director for the Ancient Forests Campaign of the Washington Resources Defense Council, based in Seattle. The WRDC is a nonprofit charity promoting sustainable use of resources while working to save North America’s ancient forests.”
“Perfect, Mike,” said Grace, checking her notes. “As I understand it, the Trust was established in 1986 and funded by the Walter Richling fortune made in the early 1900s from timber and mining in the Northwest?”
“Correct,” he said. “We started with an initial grant of $1.2 million from the Richling Charitable Trust, which was established by a local family to further conservation programs in the Northwest. The primary benefactor of the Trust was Eleanor Bennett, great granddaughter of Walter Richling and the Defense Council was happy to be supported by such a respected Washington State family. It’s opened many doors through the years.”
Grace checked her notes. Eleanor Bennet died in Seattle in 1980, about the time Richling timber and mining interests moved to South America. The Washington State Resources Defense Council was established after her death, in 1986. Rohrbach and White, a New York law firm, acted as executors of the Trust and set up the nonprofit Defense Council, its mission statement and selected the original board.
Grace Googled Rohrbach and White, found they currently represented the Richling conglomerates engaged in timber, oil and mining in South America.
“Mike, the Washington Natural Resources Defense Council’s mission statement limits your work to ‘the preservation of the ancient forests of the Northwest, the growth of the National Parks system and the curtailment of resource extraction in the United States’. Correct?” asked Grace.
“I don’t recall the exact wording,” said Mike, “but that sounds correct.
So, thought Grace, a law firm representing companies engaged in mineral, oil and timber production in South America established, funded and continues to direct,—via its mission statement which is carved in stone with the IRS—the work of the Washington Natural Resources Defense Council. That mission is to end mineral, oil and timber production in the US. If a competing business engaged in such commerce-limiting activities, it would be in violation of US anti-trust laws.
Grace queried Mike on various lawsuits and he gave great detail on the status of each.
“In February 2003,” she said, “after completing a 12-month review as required by the ESA, the US Fish and Wildlife Service announced that the California spotted owl didn't warrant any protection under the ESA. The bird occurs throughout all or most of its historical range, with over 2,200 sites or territories in the Sierra Nevadas and Southern California. This is a hundred years plus of logging in those areas. So why does the Defense Council continue to focus on logging as the culprit for any decline in numbers of northern spotted owls in Washington State forests?”
Mike answered quickly, “Grace, the science supported listing the spotted owl and our primary mission is to defend their habitat against all threats. The scientists are still gathering data and it will take us many more years of study to completely understand the complex factors affecting the long-term viability of the various sub-species and stocks of the spotted owl.”
“Mike,” she said, “none of the forest closures over the past decades would have happened based on the information we have today. The Pacific Northwest is the edge of the owl’s range. At the extreme limit of a species’ range one can expect unstable populations.”
Grace heard Mike’s chair squeak as he shifted his weight. He said nothing.
Grace pushed on. “The Sacramento Bee reported that even though the California spotted owl was never listed as endangered, California’s timber harvest levels have been slashed dramatically. Western timber mills have shut their doors and thousands of families have lost jobs and homes, have left the West—even the country—in search of work while our unmanaged forests are tinder boxes that threaten people, towns, forest and habitat. Timber communities say it’s all based on junk science and insist the government delist the owl. The social cost is enormous. Are you familiar with the concept of conservation refugees, Mike?”
“Well,” he said, “in the past, people have profited greatly at the expense of the forest. There is virtually no remaining old growth. The Northwest has one of the last remaining temperate rainforests. We have to protect the ancient forests for future generations. And then, of course, there is the overwhelming threat of the barred owl, climate change—”
“OK, Mike,” she said, “All great, but I have to get going. Deadlines, you know.”
This is not the Grace Newman I know and love, thought Mike, the environmental reporter who always supported our work. “But there is so much more, Grace,” he said.
“Always, Mike,” she said. “Always. Thank you for your time. Gotta go.”
Hell, what the fuck? thought Mike.
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Geoff Tobin, the senior editor of The Los Angeles Tribune owed his position to several degrees from respected universities, family connections and hard work. After an afternoon sail on his 50-foot yacht followed by drinks at the club, he settled behind the antique desk in his home office in his Newport, Rhode Island.
It took him until almost eleven to read the email from the Editor of the Business section which included Chase Stanford’s request for an alliance with the Business section on Grace’s timber story and a note of concern about the UCLA situation.
I don’t like this at all, thought Tobin as he worried about the reaction of many of the paper’s key advertisers which included pro-environment foundations heavily funded by corporations that abhorred controversy.
Tobin telephoned Patrick Chapman, The Los Angeles Tribune’s Managing Editor, to discuss the dilemma.
Chapman listened patiently as Tobin explained, “Not sure we can wade into this right now for various reasons, but her comments may or may not stimulate action for damages. Some of our biggest advertisers—beyond pharma, of course—are going to be totally pissed off. Let me read one of Chase Stanford’s comments:
The material she’s sending back is well-written and articulated, but seriously controversial. Her take so far is that there appears to be collusion to reduce timber production. She might be right, but there’s serious risk to consider.”
Tobin asked, “What are your thoughts, Patrick?”
This piece is fraught with danger, thought Chapman. The Tribune, along with other newspapers, had invested years ago in the larger paper mills in order to secure favorable pricing on newsprint. A link to groups causing financial distress to timber communities, no matter how tenuous, could be embarrassing, thought Chapman. Perhaps illegal.
Chapman’s mind raced. Are we financing the organized destruction of competing timber interests in the Northwest? Not that I know, but would I know? he wondered. No, The Trib is just the happy beneficiary of Lady Luck, he assured himself. But would the Federal Trade Commission see it the same way?
“Patrick?” asked Tobin. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” he said. “Just thinking.”
Antitrust regulations and infringement of trade were on both men’s minds, although each knew better than to actually say the words out loud.
Chapman knew the editor at The Boston Post would bite on this story. After all, The Post had no investment in paper mills and was now dependent on the paper produced by companies owned by its competitor, The Tribune. It was costing The Post dearly and its management was not happy.
“Tangled web, isn’t it?” asked Chapman. “Perhaps this Grace Newman is bonding with the timber people, feeling empathy for their situation?”
“Why the hell did Chase authorize this field trip anyway?” asked Geoffrey Tobin. “Witnessing hardship can turn those without a thick skin into advocates.”
“But that,” said Chapman, “is not the newspaper’s role.”
“No, it is not,” said Tobin. “We have to stay neutral.”
“I’ll handle this, Geoff,” said Chapman. ““I’ll talk to Chase —just keep the other editors out of it. I’ll have Legal review the draft and we’ll get this young reporter back to eco-reporting.”
Chapman ended the call and dropped his cellphone into his pocket. His butler helped him into his cashmere overcoat and opened the front door. His driver opened the back door to a white limo waiting in the driveway of Chapman’s estate, ready to take Patrick Chapman and his wife to a gallery opening.
“Anything urgent, dear?” asked the ever-patient Mrs. Chapman as her husband settled in beside her.
“No, nothing,” he said, giving his wife a quick kiss. “Just an over-zealous reporter biting off more than she can chew. We’ll corral her, get her back on track.”