Conscientious objectors in the land-use wars
Tuesday, November 30, 2004 After 47 years, Emil and Dory Brooking still greet their nine acres on the Columbia River with awe and devotion, humbled by the view of Mount Hood through the cottonwood trees, the persistence of the local beavers, and the comings and goings at the wood duck nests. "I suppose the bursting forth of spring," Dory says, asked when her devotion peaks, "but each season has its own special charm." They are surrounded by the good life. There are ducks on the pond, squirrels on the deck, and osprey and heron in the family photos. "Isn't this perfect?" she asks. Close enough. And the Brookings have ensured it will stay that way. With the help of the Columbia Land Trust, they have moved their land from the battlefield over property rights to the sanctuary of common ground. Like the Brookings, the Columbia Land Trust is dedicated to preserving what executive director Glenn Lamb calls "the postcard-perfect places that define the Northwest: Douglas fir forests, Pacific Ocean beaches, Columbia estuary tidelines, Gorge views." The passage of Measure 37 is a fresh reminder that such preservation can't be guaranteed by land-use laws alone. "The use of regulation for preservation has been a failure on a national scale," says Charlie Hales, a longtime land-use activist. "Regulations come and go. Great motives yield to economic realities. And once you screw up in terms of the stewardship of the land, it's ruined for a long time." The Columbia Land Trust allows property owners to set their stewardship in stone. "We put pen to paper to describe their conservation dreams in legal terms," Lamb said, "and we defend it forever." That works for Bill Giersch, a cattleman whose grazing land along Washington's Klickitat River has been in the family for 80 years. Before his wife, Mary, passed away in 1998, Giersch promised her the land she loved would never be handed over to developers or the U.S. Forest Service. He sealed that promise by selling 1,500 acres to the trust at a bargain price. Giersch has a 40-year lease agreement to continue grazing cattle on the land, which remains on the county tax roll. "We can't guarantee someone will always be willing to ranch the land," Lamb said, "but we can guarantee the property won't be developed." That's precisely the guarantee sought by the Brookings, who live on the north bank of the Columbia between Camas and the I-205 bridge, surrounded by the multimillion-dollar tax refuges of various Oregon CEOs. Emil, Dory and their eight children still own the property, but a conservation easement and all development rights now belong to the trust -- which will never exercise them. The family has lower property taxes and the certainty that it will never have to sell the acreage in order to pay them. "Land is disappearing so fast," Dory said. "I call it vanishing vistas. The new houses are in your face, in your face, in your face. We saw Lacamas Lake get developed. That killed us. What we wanted to do was preserve the wildness. "This is, for us, a tremendous relief. The conservation easement is a great way for people to go who want to hold on to their land instead of being forced to sell because of our economy." The Brookings hope the property -- from the tidelines to the old pear orchard to the fox and possum habitat -- will someday serve as a wildlife observation center for a local college and provide low-key public access to the river. They are less interested in protecting their rights than in protecting their land. In that respect, Emil and Dory are like so many other property owners who have reached this conclusion: Land-use regulations may not be the best way to protect the ground on which their grandparents' ashes are scattered from those who traffic in condos and boat docks. In the last five years, the trust has rescued 6,000 acres before the land's heritage is bulldozed and its character is destroyed. Is the nonprofit a perfect solution for thoughtful, grateful stewards of the Northwest? Close enough. Steve Duin: 503-221-8597; Steveduin@aol.com; 1320 S.W. Broadway, Portland, OR 97201
By Steve Duin
