It took some time to get used to that now useless laptop. It was presented in a hurry, by a woman who had no idea how it worked, just before a big trip, with minimal instructions based on words that did not mean what they meant. A big deal was made of inserting the "card." The only problem was that nothing in the support package looked like a card. Not a card like in American Express card or ace-of-hearts playing card. It took hundreds of miles, and suggestions from any number of 16-year-old experts, before an item that looked like a gizmo turned out to be the card in question. Then it took another day just to figure out how to get this little plastic rectangle to open, and determine which port (not like Port Everglades, more like a slot) it fit in.
Ultimately the obstacles were overcome, including realizing that even when correctly formatted, you could not get the laptop to work on the top of a North Carolina mountain. And there came a day, months later, when on a 90-minute Amtrak ride from Philadelphia to Washington, a whole chapter of a book appeared from that computer, rocking train and all. The joy of that achievement was lost upon returning to Florida to learn the laptop was too old, too heavy and needed a replacement.
Oh, for the day when our family, or at least one member of it, was a pioneer in the computer revolution. This was back in the 1960s when our late brother Mike, Ph.D and math whiz, who was teaching at Columbia University, took us into a building to see a UNIVAC machine that took up the better part of a city block. Already an expert on the subject, Mike said this machine could do amazing things. He knew his stuff. He even wrote a book, Numerical Methods in FORTRAN. He wrote it in 1964 with another genius, Mario Salvadori, and although we had never heard of FORTRAN, we were emboldened to review the book. Although their literary styles were similar, we could spot which parts our brother wrote and which belonged to Professor Salvadori.
For instance, this is clearly our brother’s inimitable style:
“Integration formulas for any n and any m may be derived in a similar manner. Some of them are presented in Table 3.3.1, where the interval of integration is indicated by the boldface coefficients. To illustrate, the 4-point integration formula for the strip from I to I + 1 (3.3.17), reads: I1q4 (i) = h/24 (9f. + 19f I + 1 = 5f I + 2 + fi+3).” Mike talked like that all the time.
Now Salvadori, whose prose was more Shakespearean, was obviously the author of these lines: “The Newton-Raphson integration formula (4.2.1) can be applied to the evaluation of the real roots (if any) of the transcendental equation.”
Our favorite scene in the book is when FORTRAN, having just broken up with his girlfriend, Cubicella, stares at the moon and says: “An ordinary initial-value problem is governed by an ordinary differential equation and a set of conditions all valid at the same “starting” point, x = xo.” She never found another guy who could talk like that.
Unfortunately, they don’t make writers like that anymore. And it’s hard to find a computer a block long that you can operate simply by reading a book.
The engines were lined up back to back, or nose to nose if you prefer, and you will not find trains as clean looking very often. After all, this was a public relations event, and a pretty important one, so CSX, Tri-Rail and the Florida East Coast Railway brought out their best-looking engines for the job. Tri-Rail was showing off a new, more streamlined design, and the FEC for the occasion chose to go back to the bright yellow, red and silver engine (shown above) that the line used back in the days when it last ran passenger trains.
Apparently they are repainting their current, mundane, blue prime movers to celebrate a historic event – the return of passenger traffic to Henry Flagler’s pioneering railroad for the first time since the 1960s. The fancy colors were displayed last week on the FEC tracks near Croissant Park in Fort Lauderdale, and the three engines symbolized another piece of history – the union of three railroad entities to bring passenger service back to the track where it belongs, the same FEC rails that built Florida’s East Coast cities more than a century ago.
The plan has been hinted at for years, but last week the official blessing of all involved was given. The idea is utterly sensible. Some of the slow-moving freight traffic on the FEC will be switched to the more westerly CSX tracks, which has far fewer traffic stopping grade crossings than the FEC. In turn, Tri-Rail, which now uses the CSX tracks, will switch some trains to the FEC, where they will be vastly more useful as they bisect the busy downtowns along the route. It is not a massive construction job. Tracks connecting the two railroads already exist.
Thousands of commuters will be able to walk from the station near Broward Boulevard to their downtown Fort Lauderdale jobs. And people living as far north as Jupiter will be able to commute fairly quickly to Fort Lauderdale and even Miami. In short, our area is going big-time, doing the kind of traveling that New York, Philadelphia and Chicago have had even before Henry Flagler’s days. And he died in 1913. HEAT fans will be able to take a train from Palm Beach and Broward counties to the front door of the American Airlines arena. That same track will actually pass through Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International airport. What could be more convenient?
Although it was not part of last week’s celebration, it is known that Amtrak is also considering using the FEC tracks, which come straight down the East Coast – as opposed to the current route that makes a time-consuming loop through Central Florida enroute to our coastal cities.
It is hard to exaggerate the long-range impact of this combine. As we have noted before, the FEC has large land holdings along its track. It is planning a large development on its yards in Miami, and passenger traffic will open up numerous opportunities farther up the coast. You can expect some impressive redevelopment in cities such as Fort Lauderdale. It already has considerable new apartment construction on the east side of the FEC in the downtown area. These units will be mostly walkable to the new service. But there is plenty of land on both sides of the tracks, now lined with small old buildings housing small businesses, that would be natural sites for high-rise structures.
Not so long ago we complained of all the construction underway in downtown Fort Lauderdale, without planning for the increase in traffic sure to follow. This announcement of railroad cooperation is a game changer. The people buying or renting in the downtown area had little choice in getting in and out. But now they will. This may not be quite as historic as driving in the golden spike in Utah on the transcontinental railroad in 1869, but it will do until something better comes along.
We knew him a long time, but for years not very well. That changed in 2003 when our daughter, Julie, went to work for Rep. E. Clay Shaw in his Washington office. She was looking for work in Washington, and, coincidentally, he was looking to hire another person who knew his South Florida district. Julie did know the home territory. She was the only one of our four kids to be born here. St. Anthony grade school, St. Thomas Aquinas High School, FSU – a similar path as his own family. When he lost in 2006, he recommended her to another Republican member of the House, David Camp of Michigan, and she worked for him until marriage and motherhood took them apart.
Republican. That word is important. Clay Shaw first entered politics in the 1970s, when Republicans dominated Broward County, at least the Fort Lauderdale area. That was to change, fairly quickly, but Shaw served for 26 years in Congress, even after the demographics of his district changed and made his re-elections more difficult. He should never have lost, but as he aged, the people who knew his qualities best also aged, and many went above. He never liked campaigning, especially the fundraising aspect.
The mid-term election of 2006 was a tough time for all Republicans, even in what were considered safe districts. Republicans on the Ways and Means Committee were demolished. Events that had nothing to do with Shaw, such as the Mark Foley scandal and the Terri Schiavo controversy gave Democrats ammo that year.
Had he survived that election, he likely would have won easily two years later, as the Republican tide made a mild recovery. He was a noted non-partisan and his presence in Washington would have been welcome in a day when so many Republicans are against anything President Obama is for, even when it is a position they themselves previously endorsed. And vital subjects such as Social Security and Everglades restoration were his specialties.
Illustrating his statesmanlike nature, he did a local public television show and invited government figures from around the country. Often they were Democrats, and he would point that out, usually with a jest, but invariably raising their stock by letting them share the stage with a man who was an experienced and highly respected House member. Although a Republican, he was never on the extreme right, and managed to like even those on the extreme left. For want of a better word, he was a middle man.
Julie Donovan, who worked as his scheduler (also known as his gate keeper), had a front-row seat of the last years of that era. She recalls:
"Mr. Shaw was the mayor of Fort Lauderdale when I was born and the only House representative I knew growing up. His service and accomplishments spanned my lifetime. He and Mrs. Shaw (you can't say one name without the other) treated all the staffers like family, and I absolutely loved working for him and for Florida’s District 22. We both took such pride in calling it 'home.'"
To those close to the congressman, his ability to connect was obvious. Julie Donovan remembers:
“Mr. Shaw and Charlie Rangel, another long-time member of the House and also a member of the Ways and Means committee, had a friendly working relationship. It was such fun to watch the two of them go head to head on the networks. They would have their disagreements but it was always very respectful. Mr. Shaw spoke often about this, and how much he missed the old days when Congress was less partisan and relationships more meaningful.”
We bury the man with the prayer that some fine day it will be that way again.
We are working on a 50th anniversary story of Gulfstream Media Group. The first issue of what is now Gold Coast magazine appeared in the winter of 1965, but the company that launched it was being formed in 1964, so our timing will be the fall of next year. The story of a publication, of course, is also a story of its community. In 50 years all places change, but few have changed as much as South Florida. The growth has been enormous. What is now the Galt Ocean Mile had a few tall condos, but most were under construction, the cranes poking like giant water birds into the sky. Fort Lauderdale’s Coral Ridge section was still being built, especially the high-end finger islands off the Intracoastal Waterway. There was no Galleria Mall. Where Macy’s and many other stores stand was a rough open area.
To the west, far to the west in those days, the new city of Coral Springs was being touted as a great place for young families. In Boca Raton, there was near panic that the small town would turn into another out-of-control Fort Lauderdale. Where the Town Center stands was open land, a prime landmark being a sprawling polo field along Glades Road. That was about to change. It is called growth.
These thoughts come at a time when our governor is bragging about Florida’s growth under his rule, although The Miami Herald’s “politifacts” team finds his claims exaggerated. The recovery from the recession would have happened no matter who was in charge. But in general it is being touted as a wonderful thing that Florida is rapidly becoming the country’s third largest state. Growth is good. Growth is king.
Who says? We can make an argument that South Florida in 1965 was a better place to live than it is today. At least that’s what people who grew up here at the time seem to think. There was not the traffic, not the environmental threats associated with reckless over-building. You did not read about the destruction of the Everglades or pollution from Lake Okeechobee damaging the quality of life in all directions. Ironically, the growth that brought about these conditions was considered a boon at the time. Modern highways, I-95 and 595, were great advancements. Well, drive them today. And rail transit is now a necessity. It should have been 40 years ago.
We can recall visiting Inverrary when Jackie Gleason launched a golf tournament. The place had a spectacular landscaped entrance and the whole planned development was impressive. It was the place to live. Well, the golf tournament moved. It is now The Honda Classic, played in Palm Beach Gardens. And the Inverrary so proudly launched in the early 1970s no longer exists – at least not in the form its founders envisioned. It has become a seedy sort of place, and the same can be said for much of the western area that 50 years ago was farms on somewhat soggy land. Look at Coral Springs, in 1970 being touted by Johnny Carson as a great investment. Someone who grew up there, when it truly was the place for young families, comments:
“When I grew up there you couldn’t have a better place to live. The schools were great. You could say my neighborhood was upper-middle class. In 1978 it was known as 'The City in the Country,’ which was a pretty accurate. There were many areas of forest, trees and open spaces with commercial spaces sprinkled throughout. Everybody was pretty much of the same socio-economic background. That included all races. But then the second stage of development changed everything. They built far too many apartments and duplexes. Eventually all that greenery went away with the over-building of commerce in the city. They just let too much shopping be built. The city just went down. It attracted the lower socio-economic end of all the races. Today, when I see where I lived, it’s a dump.“
Much has changed in 50 years. But, unfortunately, with the exception of a few communities, what has not changed is the idea that growth is always good. Good for what?
The large payout to former NFL players claiming brain injuries from concussions, including a number of Miami Dolphins, resembles the lawsuits won by smokers claiming lung damage. The difference is that smokers knew, or should have known, decades ago that their habit was dangerous. Terms such as “cancer sticks” and even advertising slogans such as “not a cough in a carload” were around years ago. The damage of head injuries to football players is a more recent revelation, but still old enough that one questions the reasonableness of the argument that the NFL was negligent in not protecting players in a game where the whole idea is violent collisions.
And the term “punchy” is as old as boxing, and it does not take a medical scholar to note that repeated blows to the head in any sport carry risk. In football, however, unlike boxing, it wasn’t always that way. We did not hear of men who played in the days before helmets, or in the leather helmet era, suffering dementia so severe that it has been linked to several suicides. It is ironic that the phrase “he played too many games without a helmet” has produced amusement, when in fact football may have been safer without such protection.
The first plastic helmets were designed in the late 1930s, grew popular in the late 1940s, and by the mid-50s had become common, even down to the high school level. Notre Dame was a throwback with leather helmets during the Paul Hornung era. The first hard hat we recall was not even designed for football. After World War II, helmets worn by tank crews, made of a hard synthetic material, were sometimes sold as surplus, and made a cheap football helmet for the sandlot. The men who had worn them in battle had some protection for their heads. Of course they also had several inches of steel around them.
Initially, plastic helmets did not dramatically change football. But not long after, face masks came into play, and the combination of the hard shell and the protection of a mask made players look like knights of old, ready to challenge spear and mace. As players grew bigger and faster, they learned to use their heads as weapons, and in fact until recently were even coached to do that. Football became a different and dangerous game.
A glance at films from the leather helmet era tells the story. One does not see the violent, helmet-to-helmet, cracking collisions that mark almost every play in the modern game. Players arm-tackled and hit low, trying to trip or wrestle ball carriers to the ground rather than seeking to decapitate them. Without protective masks they did not often lead with their noses. Despite rules against it, and coaches' suggestions, it is difficult for a pass rusher to avoid helmet-to-head contact with quarterbacks. Especially when knocking the quarterback around is part of tactics. Tacklers instinctively use their heads as weapons, and ball carriers tend to lower theirs for more power and to provide less of a target for the defense. Helmet-to-helmet collisions are hard to avoid.
And with the speed and size of players, a knee or a kick, even a strong slap can jar the brain inside the head inside the helmet. It may take 20 years before the long-range effect of those blows are felt, but the NFL sure feels it now: $765 million worth of hurt.
The people we talked to were all in the boating business, but we got the impression the anger – and it really is anger - over this situation extends to most people in the community. It is one thing when tourism is hurt when charter groups coming to town for what was once great fishing cancel their plans, or boat captains are forced to go out eight miles into the ocean to have good fishing. Or when those who harvest oysters find the beds destroyed, and fish are killed for miles around. But it is something else when people are warned not to go into Stuart’s many waterways because of health concerns.
As Florida Sportsman editor Karl Wickstrom previously pointed out in this blog, the official excuse for this terrible situation is concern that the levee around the lake could break, repeating a disaster that occurred in 1928. But Wickstrom, whose magazine is based in Stuart, calls that a phony position. The main reason is to protect Big Sugar, the combination of sugar and citrus growers, whose political clout is used to protect their lands south of the lake.
Before Florida embarked on the program of draining wetlands for agriculture, water from the lake flowed south into the Everglades through marshes that naturally cleaned the water. But most of that land is now farming, and rather than interfere with that industry, the Corps releases the water into rivers and estuaries east and west, destroying businesses that need clean water.
You would think that tens of thousands of people on both coasts whose quality of life is hurt could outvote a relative handful of business interests - especially since communities such as Stuart have plenty of well-heeled residents, both seasonal and full time. But it doesn’t work that way. Big Sugar contributes millions to elected officials, both local and federal, especially those in key positions, where they can influence legislation and make appointments to boards that oversee environmental issues. It also spends huge amounts on lobbyists. Almost anyone in Stuart and nearby communities will tell you that historically those legislators protect Big Sugar at the expense of their own neighbors.
What is this if not corruption? This is not the same as donating a hundred bucks to a neighbor running for city commissioner. But it is much like the gun lobby’s enormous funding against anyone advocating gun sanity. Campaign contributions in such massive amounts amount to legal bribes. And when that money is so destructive to the environment of a state whose economy is based so heavily on environment, you would think law enforcement would consider it a crime. It is a crime that they don’t.
The subject is particularly apt right now, as the undefeated team of 1972-73 was honored by the president of the United States yesterday. All real Americans are concerned that in this season of August (through January) memories, the classic uniforms worn by these heroes have been changed. The changes are not glaring. Aqua has replaced orange in stripes. Not much else. The effect is to make somewhat effeminate colors even more so. Although don’t call No. 39, aka Larry Csonka, effeminate. The question, therefore, that real Americans ask, is why? Why change the look, even mildly, worn by a team of legend? It has been 40 years and no other team has gone undefeated, and we are willing to bet several martinis that the guys in the new Dolphins uniforms will not go undefeated. Proof of that bold statement is that they have already lost two games.
It has been a lifelong crusade of this writer to oppose stupid changes in classic uniforms. Our favorite, as with all real Americans, is the New York Yankees, who still look much the way they did in the time of Ruth and Gehrig. One could say the same for other franchises, including Detroit, St. Louis (the baseball team), the Dodgers, and Notre Dame (the football team). On the opposite side, we should mention the United States Army (not the football team), which has discarded the bile green that so many of us wore since 1957, for a return to the two-tone blue the Union wore in the Civil War, itself a throwback to the Continental Army’s colors in the war against the Brits.
Back on topic. Don Shula says it does not seem like 40 years since that season of glory, until he looks in the mirror. Gold Coast magazine was there, actually the year before, when we traveled with the soon-to-be legends to Boston, where our all-time favorite photo was taken. Gold Coast also covered the team a few years later, profiling both Joe Robbie, the owner, and Doug Swift, perhaps the most unusual of an unusual collection of jocks. He is now Dr. Doug Swift, an Amherst grad who got into professional football almost on a lark, and after a brief, wonderful career, went to medical school and, as an anesthesiologist, participated in the first heart transplant at Temple University Hospital. He got us into that hospital early one Monday morning to witness a triple bypass. He did not even ask the PR people for permission, and his fellow docs that day did not know the unknown figure behind the green mask was writing a piece for The Miami Herald. Such innovation is what made him a great linebacker on the No Name Defense.
Little note here of another uniform change. The Miami Marlins (the baseball team) made another uniform change, adopting a look abandoned by most junior high teams. Nobody cared.
The news over the weekend that a federal sting had nailed two Dade County mayors and a pair of lobbyists on the same day is unusual, but a long way from a record for government corruption investigations. Some people call it entrapment, for the public officials involved did not go looking to do something illegal. The alleged bribers sought them out, but such cases usually start with a pretty good hunch that the targets have been on the take, and only needed a little baiting to prove it.
This case is small potatoes compared to some federal stings in the past. One of the biggest was in the late 1970s when a con man posing as an Arab sheik, doing much of his work in South Florida, brought down 19 people, including a U.S. senator and state senator from New Jersey, six congressmen (one from Florida), several Philadelphia city councilman and related parties.
The sting was code named Abscam and the master con-man behind the scenes, Mel Weinberg, lived in the Jensen Beach area. He agreed to work for the government in order to stay out of jail, and being paid a fee of $150,000. Nice money for doing what you love. Weinberg was an entertaining storyteller; his involvement was entertainment in itself – a Jewish guy from the Bronx pretending to represent an Arab trying to get highly placed help in various illegal activities, including political asylum and money laundering. He was profiled in Gold Coast magazine by our late colleague, Gaeton Fonzi. Much of the sting occurred in South Florida. Weinberg nicknamed a West Palm Beach hotel where many meetings took place the “Gotcha Hotel.” He described one incident where a number of marks were invited about the sheik’s yacht in Delray Beach where just about everybody else aboard, posing as guests and crew, were FBI.
The only problem was the FBI had no budget for such a lavish function. It could barely pay for the limousine to escort a phony Arab to the party. An FBI man jokingly suggested that Weinberg try to con one of the political targets – the mayor of Camden, N.J. – into paying for the event.
Recalled Weinberg in the 1981 article: “So that night I call the mayor and tell, 'We’re gonna throw this party in your honor but we’re gonna do it the Arab way. The Arab way is that you have to pay for it.' He says, 'What do you mean, I have to pay?' So I explained to him the Arab way and how we don’t want to insult the Emir Yassir Habib by making him pay for the party. The mayor says, 'Well, hey, Mel, no problem.' Then he conned a Mafiso figure who has a produce business, supplies all the restaurants, the mayor cons him out of the food and the mayor himself buys the booze.”
The night was a stunning success, highlighted by the presentation of a knife bought by Weinberg for $2.75 at a flea market. They cleaned it up, put some chrome on it, and presented it to the mayor by Emir Yassir Habib (an FBI guy) as an Arab symbol of everlasting friendship.
Unlike the recent Miami event, the political types were not snared all at once. The FBI only ended its work when news media began to pick up the story. Weinberg, whose contempt for public servants was manifest, told Fonzi that given enough time he could have done better. Weinberg explained: “I think we would have gotten one-third of Congress. I once said Congress was a bunch of perverts, crooks and drunks. You may laugh at that, but it’s true.”
Although probably not part of his contract, Weinberg found himself tutoring the FBI agents in the art of the con.
“The FBI had never done anything like this before,” Weinberg told Fonzi. “The only one who was used to setting things up like that was me. They went along but they had second thoughts a lot of times. They used to fight me. I mean they still believe in wearing Sears & Roebuck suits. Their way of thinking and doing business is not the way a con man does it. Every time you suggested something - like using a limousine, for instance – you had to argue like mad to get them to go along. I used to get aggravated sometimes so much that they were gonna blow it.”
The FBI men involved in the recent sting likely benefited from the Abscam experience. Probably they dressed a little better, possibly in Jos. A. Bank suits. Buy one, get one free.
There was a magazine convention at Disney World last week. It brought memories of the original Disneyland in California. They aren’t much alike these days. Disneyland is a postage stamp compared to its sprawling Florida descendant. One obvious constant is the attention to detail, to order. It seems every other employee is cleaning or painting something. Walt Disney liked it that way.
He liked it that way in the summer of 1957, when we went to ROTC camp at Fort Sill, Okla. Four of us drove together. None had been west of West Philadelphia, much less the Mississippi River, and after our six weeks in Oklahoma we decided to move on to California, where we could stay in a trailer at the home of one of the guys' relatives. We planned a brief visit, but Disneyland changed that. The park had been opened for just two years, and it was a natural place to check out. Checking it out, we met some girls who told us that the summer workers from California were heading back to school, and we might get jobs. We did not have to back at college until mid-September.
The fellow who hired us was Ron Dominguez, who went on to a big job with Disney. He said if we would stay until Sept. 15, we had jobs. This was early August. We said we would, and we did. One guy had a speaking job on the Mark Twain boat. Two of us were hired as cowboys. It was an amazing month, and it did not take long to appreciate Walt Disney’s hands-on management style. We did not know what he looked like – not at first – but he roamed the park at all hours, making sure everything was the way he wanted it. And the word came down that Disney wanted the kid taking tickets for the stage coach and mule train to tear those tickets in half before dumping them in the trash basket.
The month passed quickly. We never tired of roaming the park after hours, or wearied of the nightly Mickey Mouse parade. We also saw a bit of history. The mule train riders were mostly kids, but a lot of older people rode the stage. It was late on a September afternoon when we heard an ominous sound. Horses galloping. Normally they moved at a gentle trot. The ponies rounded the fake mountain from the Painted Desert, dragging the rig without the coach, and piled up in the loading area with much shreking and dust. Sensing something unusual, we raced up the trail.
It was a scene out of a western, but this was not make-believe. Something had spooked the ponies, who bolted and could not make a curve in the trail. The coach was on its side, wheels spinning, and people were staggering around, covered with dirt. It turned out there were no serious injuries, but you couldn’t tell that from the scene. We helped one elderly woman to her feet. Elderly in those days was older than 60.
“Young man,” she gasped through a mouthful of dirt. “Does this happen often?”
“No ma’am,” we replied. “First time all day.” Actually, we didn’t say that. Walt Disney would not have approved, but the line has played well over the years. We had little work the next few days. The live rides were shut down, not to reopen – at least not in the same form. Our commitment was up and the Philadelphia cowboys went home, hitting Vegas on the way.
 |
| Karl Wickstrom |
What happens is that the lake water, which is polluted by run-off from agriculture, filled with fertilizer that helps grow crops but hurts anything to do with water ecology, flows into the estuaries and kills them. Or rather it kills creatures, such as oysters and fish, and drives other fish away, and the combination kills businesses that depend on clean water. People who come to Stuart for its famous fishing find the fishing lousy and don’t stay. For an area made so beautiful by its abundant waterways, this is a recurring setback.
The affected communities complain, they get some press (such as a front-page piece in Monday’s Sun-Sentinel), they arouse public interest and sometimes that of elected officials, and not much happens. A few years pass, and without heavy rains the pollution gradually disappears and wildlife begins to recover. There are even times when the lake level gets dangerously low, affecting water supplies in South Florida. But then it happens all over. And it is happening right now.
Our credible source on this matter is Karl Wickstrom, founder and long-time editor of Florida Sportsman magazine. He will go down in the Florida Ecological Hall of Fame, if we ever get such an honor. He is also one of the best publishers we have known in 40 years in Florida. Karl started out in Miami, with the Herald, but now is based in Stuart and sees up close what the lake discharges do. When fresh (although polluted) water mixes with salt water from the St. Lucie River, it is a punch to the ecological gut. We trust his information more than that from any political type. He says, as he has written often:
“Actually, when they discharge from the lake, more water goes west than east, but the west is better able to deal with it. But it’s a terrible thing for both coasts. There are thousands of species that need the mix of fresh and salt water. By flooding the area they destroy sea grasses which are host for a lot of animals. Agriculture is not conducive to good ecology.”
But Wickstrom is not condemning all agriculture. And he makes sure when we announce the principal culprit, “Big Sugar,” we say that is not just the powerful sugar growers, but also citrus and other interests. But as a group they can outvote, because they outspend, everybody else. Which comes to the heart of the matter.
The public thinks the discharges, if they know about them at all, are to protect the dike holding back Lake Okeechobee. Nada, says Wickstrom.
“When the Corps of Engineers says that, it is not really to protect that dike. That is secondary. The first reason is to the protection of Big Sugar. They have spent hundreds of millions in influence.”
He means that water moving elsewhere, toward agricultural land surrounding the lake, especially to to the south where it was directed by nature into what was once a much wider Everglades, before so much land was drained for agricultural purposes, would affect the growers. They have deep pockets and use them to control the politics of pollution. Wickstrom further points out that developers are required to build retention ponds that hold water in times of heavy rain.
“That is required everywhere but with Big Sugar. They have a free ride to pollute the coasts and wipe out all kinds of life,” he says. “They give the impression that the public doesn’t get hurt, and that is so infuriating because they hurt one of the most biologically diverse estuaries in the country. When you ask politicians, they think plans are underway to correct this, but it’s not true. There is nothing being done to stop over drainage.”
In fairness to the Army Corps of Engineers, Wickstrom says the feds have a solution to the problem, which is to take 15 to 20 percent of Big Sugar land and convert it back into sawgrass, a natural filter for the pollutants agriculture causes. It is called Plan 6. What keeps it from happening is called the politics of Big Sugar. It can be a complicated read, especially for most of the public that doesn’t give a damn, but Wickstrom urges people to visit riverscoalition.org.
