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t
Straight Arrow has finally joined the other chiefs of the
western tribes in their battle against the Great White Father.
After consulting chicken entrails in his teepee for the past
six months, Governor Dan Evans this week donned his war
bonnet and sallied forth to unite with Governor Tom McCall
of Oregon and other officials in protesting the shipment of
nerve gas from Bangor, Washington to Umatilla, Oregon.
Governor McCall has been attacking Fort Pentagon daily
since announcement of the shipment was made late last year.
Governor Evans is joining the campaign a bit late, claiming he
didn't realize until now that the federal officers spoke with
forked tongues.
This tardiness is proving embarrassing, since a ship is now
waiting off Okinawa to load the nerve gas, while the governor
has been unable to reach Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird,
who is the head man in the fort.
As this is being written, Governor Evans has tried
unsuccessfully, for several days to contact Laird. We imagine
the governor's telephone conversation sounded something
like this:
"Hello. To whom am I speaking? The secretary to the
Defense Secretary's assistant secretary? Fine I'd like to speak
to Secretary Laird.
"Dan Evans. Governor Dan Evans. Governor Dan Evans
of Washington. No, the state of Washington. That's right, the
one the other side of Chicago. It's north of Oregon. Oregon.
No, it's north of California.
"Now that we've got that straightened out, please
connect me with Secretary Laird. Evans, dammit; I told you
once. Governor Evans.
"Okay, if that's the way it has to be, connect me with the
public information officer. Hello, this is Governor Dan Evans.
l'd like to speak to Secretary Laird. Yes, of course I'm a
Republican, you idiot; I gave the keynote address at the last
Republican convention.
"Who? Senator Thurmond? No, i'm not particularly a
friend of Senator Thurmond. I'm a friend of Dick's. Dick
Nixon. President Richard Nixon. The United States. That's
south of Canada and North of Mexico.
"I've got to speak to Secretary Laird about the shipment
of nerve gas. What do you mean, what nerve gas? The nerve
gas that's about to be removed from Okinawa and shipped
through Washington and Oregon by train.
"Washington and Oregon. Yes, they're the other side of
Chicago-and north of San Ciemente.
"Look, I'm sick of this runaround; let me speak to your
immediate superior. He's where? On rest and recreation leave
in Bermuda? Well, let me speak to his secretary. Oh, she's
with him.
"'1 might as well give up for today. Oh, by the way, while
I've got you on the line.how are things gotng tn V letnam?
Vietnam. N6, that's Vie jm 'lt uthea
Asia. Ah, forget it!" !i7
Book review.
Edited by
Garret De Bell
Ballartine Books 1970 95c
"In 1969 the United States
woke up to the fact that the
richest country in the world is in
the middle of an environmental
crisis. We said good-bye to
pelicans, realized that the
ubiquitous automobile was the
cause of smog and the Santa
Barbara oil slick, and meditated
on the fact that our burgeoning
multiplicity of air conditioners,
clothes dryers and other aids to
gracious living meant another ugly
power plant. Mother's milk, we
were told, wasn't fit to drink."
So the prickly issue of
environmental protection--with
all its subtleties and
certainties-has finally come of
age. No longer do state
legislatures and Congressional
committees quietly shelve
anti-pollution bills and
environmental protection
legislation. In the myriad
environmental protection lobbies
recently formed America's
legislative bodies have found an
unrelenting prod to save us from
ourselves.
Such diverse, yet
single-minded, groups as Zero
Population Growth (ZPG),
Citizens League Against the Sonic
Boom, the National Conservancy,
and Friends of the Earth, keep a
close watch on corporate and
private abuse of our environment.
The latter group (FOE), in
conjunction with Ballantine
Books, has published a
remarkable collection of lively
and urgent articles which together
make up The Environmental
Handbook.
Although specifically
prepared for the First National
Environmental Teach-in (April
22, 1970), The Environmental
Handbook will probably have a
prominent influence on the
ecological battles of the 1970's;
battles which will determine if we
are to prevent "the world from
going under" with the weight of
new populations and the products
of the "present industrial
arrogance" -e.g., increasing smog,
rising noise levels and destructive
chemicals.
"38 Cigarettes a Day", one of
the most penetrating articles to be
found in the Environmental
Handbook, reviews a recent report
on the lethal atmosphere of New
York City from which "a New
Yorker on the street takes into his
lungs the equivalent in toxic
materials of 38 cigarettes a day
.... enough soot, sulphides,
monoxide, and hydrocarbons,
etc., to actually kill off small
segments of their excess
population." This is enough, it
might be added, to make life
miserable for the millions who
survive to face another polluted
day.
Another gem of an article,
"Eco-Pornography or How to
Spot an Ecological Phony" by
Thomas Turner, observes: "Now
that the environmental crisis is
the daily news and maturing in
sex-appeal, panaceas are coming
from curious sources-the ad
agencies, of the major industries
Editor, The Journal:
Appearing in last week's
Journal under new court cases was
the following item: "Boon
Plumbing and Heating against
~rt Hedrick, foreclosure of
lien.'"
This lien is against Mac's
Comer Tavern for work done for
them in their business and in no
way is against me. My name
appeared only because I own the
building which is leased to Mac's
Corner.
Hobert Hedrick
~:!:i:
:::5:
"So you had this nerve gas that you had to get out of Okinawa . . .
The Flapdoodler:
By: ROBERT C. CUMMINGS
With the November 3 election
still more than a half year away,
battle lines already are being drawn
for the No. 1 issue on the ballot,
House Joint Resolution 42, better
known as Governor Dan Evans'
"tax reform" program.
(Though newsmen insist "tax
reform" is editorializing anll
d~sually' write ~''fa~'~ revisionS'
instead, it's still "tax reform" to
that created the crisis. Advertising
on television and in magazines
reflects industrial awareness of
the ecology crisis-and the urge to
lull." So while industry
frequently fights conservationists
behind the scenes, they publicly
assume a benign, often
meaningless, stance supporting
environmental protection
measures.
The Environmental Handbook
is more, though, than a lengthy
lament for our decaying world. It
is filled with quaint little
suggestions (dubbed
"Eco-tactics") for waging your
own private or local war against
the purveyors of pollution. These
suggestions go beyond urging you
to write the President in
opposition to the SST
(Supersonic Transport)-even
though convenient forms are
provided in the back of the book
for just such a purpose. Some
tactics are plainly militant:
"When you go to the Supermarket
for milk (as an example), take an
empty jug with you. At the
check-out stand, pour milk from
the 'disposable' carton into your
re-cycled jug, give the empty
'disposable' carton to the checker,
and explain your action to him."
Other tactics are less direct,
but equally useful: "Mail in any
pre-paid envelopes you get in
advertisements for ecologically
undesirable products. Each one
sent in costs the polluter about
seven cents of his profit." You
might also drive your car less,
oppose extension of super-
highways, advocate improvement
of public transportation facilities,
"pledge not to buy furs or other
wild animal products;" or your
ecology group could "keep a chart
of politicians' statements and
actions, such as Nixon's statement
of ending pollution and his
go-ahead on the SST. Give a prize
to the most contradictory person
of the month."
As you can see, Friends of the
Earth have given us a delightful
book-one which will horrify you
as it entertains you.The
Environmental Handbook should
give strength to those who want
to save our environment before it
destroys us.
David Jubb
Page 4 - Shelton-Mason County Journal - Thursday, April 16, 1970
the administration, and its
followers).
If there had been any doubt
whether the League of Women
Voters would become involved, it
was shattered last week when the
statewide organization published,
and started distributing, an
illustrated eight-page, tabloid-type
By STEVE ERICKSON
A sleeping animal, perhaps, curled up alongside the
highway for forty winks? I knew better the moment I spotted
it.
It was a road kill. A dead raccoon, by the looks of it.
brochure topped by
reading:
"Tax Reform" in heavy black
one-and-a-half-inch type,
preceded, in smaller type by the
legend, "For a Better State."
School Aid Enlisted
Governor Evans, meanwhile,
held a private meeting in his office
with the superintendents and one
school director from each of the
state's six largest school districts.
The purpose? To enlist support
for his tax program. More meetings
of a similar nature with various
other groups are anticipated by
observers.
Also expected is that most of
the school forces throughout the
state will be solidly behind the tax
program.
Dissenting Voice Weak
So far only one organized
dissenting voice had been heard,
and in comparison with the other
side it seemed little more than a
whisper. It came from the
Washington Federation of Young
Republican Clubs, which
unanimously adopted a resolution
opposing the tax program.
The organization, which has
been "disowned" by C.
Montgomery Johnson, chairman
of the Republican State Central
Committee, had 65 delegates out
of a scheduled 95 at its convention.
Elders Seek Harmony
The Young Republican action
came on the heels of a private
meeting in Governor Evans' office
with top Republican legislators
where tentative agreement was
reached on a Republican platform
plank with which "everybody
could live."
Law-makers from both houses
who had voted on opposite sides in
the tax controversy were present.
In numerous instances, those who
voted against the tax will be
running for reelection in the same
county with those who voted fo~
it, and appearing together on the
same speakers' platforms.
To avoid cutting each other up,
agreement was reached on a plank
which would endorse the
principle of giving the people
another chance to vote on the
income tax-their first in 28
years-without taking a positive
stand on the tax itself.
There still remains the problem
of having it adopted at county and
state conventions.
No Problem for Demos
Democrats also were divided
on the issue in the Legislature, but
they don't anticipate any problems
at their convention. Since 1930,
the Democratic platform has
included a plank calling for a state
income tax.
"Yew!" I howled, braking sharply into a U-turn that
a banner
aJa tla!e,d,,wcife and all p[lssengers. None of them knew what
~ ~ ~'W61' oah~"v~s3,~;abo~hi~ time. ~ ~L" ~ .....
"What is it?" wife asked .is we gunned back up the highway.
"Just spotted a trophy," I said. "Beside the road."
She began to understand. "You mean, a trophy head?"
"No," I clarified, stopping at roadside. "A trophy tail."
I jumped out and hoisted the furry one gingerly by its
barber-pole tail. "See?" I said. "She's a beauty."
Four pairs of Erickson eyes grew wide as they peered from
inside the wagon. The baby, however, looked unimpressed.
Wife recovered first. "You ... are... NOT going to haul
that-that carcass into this car."
"Sure," 1 said, moving toward the car with it. "Look at this
hide. This pelt. And the tail, what a beauty. Think of how this
will look hanging on our den wall. Once she's all skinned out."
She quickly locked all four doors and closed her fly
window. It became necessary to scream to get my arguments
through the shield of safety glass. "But... but," I contended
brilliantly.
The window opened a quarter-inch and her voice was
strained through. "Dead things, especially dead strange things,
carry disease," she hissed. "For all you know-or seem to
care-that beast might have the bubonic plague."
"No," I said. "I think he was run over."
Shayla, who had been sniffling, burst into tears at this. "I
hate dead raccoons," she wailed.
"I assume," I said, "that this decision comes after giving
dead raccoons a lot of thought." She didn't miss a teardrop.
"How about the rest of you in there?" I yelled, swinging the
raccoon back and forth in front of the window. "Isn't this a
democracy? Don't we take a vote on stuff like this? Kelly? You
want a dead raccoon?" I prompted her by nodding my head
vigorously.
She nodded back. "I want to show him to David," she
piped, referring to a ghoulish young playmate. After a glare
from mommy, Kelly fell silent.
"Keith," I said, desperate now. "Did you want this dead
raccoon, before morn gets hysterical?" "Yes," Keith said.
"No he didn't," wife informed us. That took care of Keith.
I was beat and I knew it. I decided to throw in the towel.
The raccoon, that is.
"Okay," I growled, flinging the disputed remains into a
convenient ditch. "But I hate to waste a perfectly good
raccoon."
"Ugh!" wife said as she unlocked the driver's door and slid
to the extreme other end of the front seat. "You might as well
have picked up a dead RAT."
I chewed on that until we reached Oakville, where we made
our every-small-town-and-tall-tree-stop for the kids, at a-service
station. I visited the men's room.
As we left I said, a shade bitterly, "You'll be happy to know
that daddy washed his filthy hands back there, gang."
Wife was unimpressed. She remained miles across the front
seat from the tainted one.
"The stigma." she sniffed, "remains."
Editorials:
If you can believe the experts, harmony in
an above-normal beating during times such
inflation-recession period.
Luckily, however, for every expert who
there are ten who can tell us how to a
expert has arisen during the present husba
in the form of Dr. Hiam Ginott.
"One basic key to a successful marriage,
doctor in a magazine article, "is to grant in
mate what you cannot give in reality. When
especially unattainable gown, rather than a
husband should be sympathetic and offer a
wish we had the money to buy this
derive pleasure from envisioning herself in
drawing her closer to her husband."
This is exceUent advice and more and
throughout the country will have a chance
the months ahead, especialy in Washington
unemployment is now rapidly rising.
To check its efficacy, we bugged the
Lathe, an invohintarily-severed former
and his wife, Marsha, with the following results:
MARSHA: "! stopped by Frederick
way to the Salvation Army store and saw the
gown. It was a perfect fit and was a steal at
eighty dollars."
JOHN' "1 wish we had the money to buy
MARSHA: "Wish, wish, wish! That's all !
lately."
JOHN: "i'm allowing you to derive
envisioning yourself in that gown. You're
happy with that and draw closer to me."
MARSHA: "Have you been drinking
again? Where'd you get such a kooky idea?" ,'
JOHN: "From Dr. Hiam Ginott. He says
envision yourself in a dress we can't afford you
closer to me."
MARSHA: "Sheeesh! What a nut! Has this
yours ever envisioned himself in a gown
his husband isn't working-and drinks too
around the house all day?"
JOHN: "Marsha?"
MARSHA: "What?"
JOHN: "1 have this fantasy. Will you grant
I'!1 never have it in reality'? It may help me draw
MARSHA: "Sure. So what's a fantas]
JOHN: "1 have this fantasy where you
for a full ten minutes with your big yap
MARSHA: "If you draw any closer to
wearing your teeth for a necklace."
JOHN: "You don't s.eern',to geLthe
keys to a successful marriage is to grant
what you cannot give in reality."
MARSHA: "The reality, buddy, is that
guest room tonight. ! could care less what
fantasy."
JOHN: "That's a harsh remark, and
according to Dr. Ginott, is a no-no. I'm
remark about your big yap."
MARSHA: "Okay, I'll simmer down.
convinced about this fantasy gown. 1'!! make a!
I'll actually quit talking for ten minutes if
gown.'"
JOHN: "We haven't got the money
MARSHA: "Why didn't you say that
instead of giving me all this jazz
JOHN: "Okay, okay. You can buy the
the credit card. And while you're down
pick up some shirts and socks for me."
MARSHA: "Hey, you know
friend of yours really does know what he's
haven't been this close since you lost
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
Remember Yip Harburg's wonderful
Poor Become the Idle Rich" in FINfAN'S
same delightful satire turns up in a new song,'
Civilized Morning," which is part of a
by him entitled RHYMES FOR THE II
Are the Africans in Africa prepared for
independence?
Do they have enough delinquents
juvenile descendants?
Can they fill the air with smog
rivers with pollutions?
Are their citizens evolved enough
institutions?
Are they ripe enough to know enough
their taxes,
So the poor can pa)
flat on their axes?
Do they know how to destroy what they
their enjoyment?
Or employ enough machines to keep
employment?
Have the natives the intelligence,
dexterity,
To establish atom bases as the
prosperity?
In essence, have we morally the right to
To let the backward nations join the
of Man?