On a bright New England fall day, I walked through the doors of the White Mountain National Forest headquarters in Laconia, New Hampshire, and into my new job. For the next four years, I shadowed and was mentored by the Forest Supervisor, Jim Jordan, who had also been Forest Supervisor of the Helena National Forest. We occasionally disagreed on methods, but rarely on substance. Thanks to Jim, and his commitment to mentoring me, I learned one hell of a lot in a short time. This was graduate school with a salary. I arrived at his office each morning with the biggest coffee Dunkin’ Donuts sold. It was called “The BIG ONE.” All old school ex-Rangers drank gallons of coffee a day. (In hindsight, this was my biscuit.)
We spent each day discussing everything, including fishing. He shared his rationale of every aspect of running a National Forest. Having a mentor makes a huge difference. I learned so much from Jim Jordan—real world stuff. What stands out in my memory is he surrounded himself with people who could do things for him that he could not do as well for himself. He understood the importance of relationships with key players. He had a down-home East Texas smarts and great instincts. And he loved fishing. It was his way of building trusting relationships – standing over a hole in the ice for hours. As Brooks said, it works in practice but not in theory.
This is where my planning experience came into play. The White Mountain National Forest had been doing “unit plans” for several years, and the various constituents liked the process. When we had to toss that and use the prescribed national process, the long-standing group of local representatives saw it as a big black box. Fortunately, we had a computer modeling genius who was skilled at using linear programs. He told me that whatever we came up with, he could produce the background data to back it up. When we started meeting with the key players I thought, What if we abandoned the ‘planning model’ and focus on identifying special places?1 We came together for a working session, and I handed out different colored markers – proposed wilderness areas, backcountry (a long-standing White Mountain management option), multiple-use including timber and developed recreation like bike trails or public facilities, and sensitive environment areas. We also gave them a list of “rules” the Forest Service would follow on each of the areas, ruling out steep slopes and avoiding even-age management, and protecting traditional scenic areas. And it worked. Each subgroup put up their map with its colored markings, and we compared them. I colored in all the areas that had agreement. We then went area-by-area and forged a compromise plan.
When the Regional Planning Director (also a very smart guy) got wind of our “Mickey Mouse” process, he wanted us to toss it out and start over. And this is where authority of the Forest Supervisor comes into play. Jim said no – we are keeping with what we agreed to. Some of our longstanding partners, like the Appalachian Mountain Club, and the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests, respected the Forest Service sticking with the agreement. This became a factor later when the president of the Wilderness Society came to Laconia and essentially threatened the entire group. Jim had this funny grin on his face. The president of the Society for Protection of New Hampshire Forest, very politely said, “Thank you so much for your input. You can go now.” They never changed a thing.
Lesson for me: Relationships are money in the bank. If you don’t use the powers of the position to do what you know is right, then why bother.
- This was what is now called Place Based Conservation. People could not relate to “outputs,” except the wood industry, but everyone knew special places. ↩︎