Wednesday, 29 Jan 2003
BOISE, Idaho
Bert Bowler came by today. A recently retired fisheries biologist and active salmon advocate with Idaho Rivers United, Bert is the son of Bruce Bowler, an attorney who helped pioneer environmental law in Idaho.
Ernie Day's classic photo of Castle Peak in the White Clouds, almost the site of an open-pit mine.
When Bruce died last year, we lost one of Idaho's great conservationists, a big man with a soft voice who blocked dams on Hells Canyon, helped protect the Sawtooth National Recreation Area and the Middle Fork Salmon River, and, with Cecil Andrus and a host of others, successfully kept a giant open-pit molybdenum mine from being built in the White Cloud Mountains.
Another key player in those days was Ernie Day. Ernie (who had a less quiet voice) was an advocate for the White Clouds when they needed it most, and his photographs of the high peaks are Idaho classics. Ernie brought the wonder of Castle Peak -- the site of the proposed mine -- to thousands who hadn't yet seen it.
Idaho Statehouse, two blocks from our office.
Bert came by my office today to give us a huge print of one of Ernie's photos of Castle Peak. This photo hung in Bert's father's law office for decades. "Your office is where this photograph belongs now," Bert said.
A few years ago, when the Idaho Conservation League moved into a historic home two blocks from the Statehouse, we didn't realize we'd also created a home for some Idaho conservation history. Not long after we moved in, my former colleague at the Sierra Club, Doug Scott, gave me his signed "red-line" copy of the River of No Return Wilderness bill to put in the office. "That's where this should live," he told me -- just like Bert said today. While the immediacy of each day's work keeps our attention focused on the present, every step we take is the continuation of a path broken by others who came before us. It is on that path, following those pioneers, that we walk toward the future.
I think I surprised a couple of folks at the post office today when I pulled out my camera and took a picture of our P.O. box. I certainly got some serious scrutiny from the security guy. But there it is: P.O. Box 844. It looks no different than the hundreds of others, but for 30 years, it's been ours. Agencies, policymakers, media, and vendors all endeavor to stuff it, but the mail that matters most are the envelopes from our members and supporters. And today the box was stuffed; kind of gave me a warm feeling.
The portal.
That P.O. box is also the portal through which our money comes. We raise some funds through personal visits with donors, and occasionally someone stops by the office to renew a membership and stay in touch. The Internet is also becoming more important to us, and monthly giving is a growing part of our program. But the P.O. box is where most of the dollars come in, and today, for my very first time, I got the key from Andrea and walked the few blocks downtown to pick up the mail. There were a bunch of tear-off cards from our recent Owyhee alert, the ubiquitous bills and solicitations, but also a handful of donation envelopes.
All across the country, nonprofits are scrambling for money. The stock market has been down for three years running, which has hurt many charitable foundations that support us. In the Pacific Northwest, it is estimated there will be $8 million fewer foundation dollars available for environmental nonprofits. Government funding has been slashed nationwide, and while ICL doesn't depend on such revenue, those that do (or used to) are now competing for limited donor dollars with us. Increased unemployment and general economic skittishness affects our members; together, these factors create the so-called "perfect storm."
Meanwhile, the New York Times has called the alignment of the current Congress, the Bush administration, and the nation's courts the "perfect storm" for environmental rollbacks. Together, the poor funding outlook and the even bleaker political situation makes for a tough combination, one that is testing even the best nonprofit public interest groups. Concern about it dominates my working life, and occasionally fills those sleepless moments around 3:00 a.m. Every executive director reading this knows exactly what I mean.
Luckily, we have an incredibly active and dedicated following. Our members love Idaho, and they rely on us to protect it, just as we rely on them to support our work. It is a gratifying and important relationship.
This morning, I attending a fundraising breakfast for one of our ally groups; this is an important time for us all to come together, to do good work, and support each other. It won't get easier anytime soon.
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