The Senator We Knew
by Hugh Rogers
The industry of coal must also respect the land that yields the coal, as well as the people who live on the land. If the process of mining destroys nearby wells and foundations, if blasting and digging and relocating streams unearths harmful elements and releases them into the environment causing illness and death, that process should be halted and the resulting hazards to the community abated.
–Senator Robert C. Byrd, May 5, 2010
Senator Byrd was with us at the beginning of our life as the West Virginia Highlands Conservancy, and he was with us at the end of his life as West Virginia’s dominant political figure. In between, we had a complicated relationship.
Before the Highlands Conservancy was incorporated, before it even had a name, Senator Byrd was one of two featured speakers at the first Fall Highlands Review, in 1965 (the other was Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall). It was a rainy evening on Spruce Knob.
Under the big tent, a portable generator provided lights and sound amplification for several warm-up speakers who made no bones about their opposition to proposed dams and highways in the Highlands.
Then came the Senator’s turn-and the generator failed. He said it was the first time he’d ever had the lights turned out on him.
The year before, the Senator had spoken in favor of the original Wilderness Act, saying that its opponents “seem to consider the chances of exploitation or further development of remaining areas of wilderness better under administrative designation.” That Wilderness Act didn’t involve any lands in West Virginia. Byrd’s opinion reflected his bias in favor of legislative control. He never cared much for administrators.
Subsequently, he would find money to buy the mineral rights under Dolly Sods, support Otter Creek’s designation, and after several years’ delay during which a land swap was worked out to gain mineral rights, see to it that the Cranberry also became a wilderness area. Further greening that deal was an appropriation to Pocahontas and Webster counties to make up for their loss of coal severance taxes. Our board member Larry George said, “Senator Byrd saved this bill so many times I lost track.”
In 2004, a consortium of wilderness advocates gave Byrd a National Leadership Award, and five years later his support was crucial to the Wild Mon Act.
His role in establishing the Canaan Valley National Wildlife Refuge (it took fifteen years to persuade him) and the New River Gorge National River, and acquiring the Mower Tract on the upper Shavers Fork for the Monongahela National Forest, was similar.
Whenever conservationists could simultaneously appeal to his pride in West Virginia’s natural resources and his extraordinary skill in securing federal money for the state, he’d be on our side.
Not so when we opposed giant “infrastructure” projects. In the late 60’s and early 70’s, the Highlands Conservancy led the fight against the Rowlesburg Dam, which would have flooded the Cheat all the way up to St. George. It was a typical Corps of Engineers project:
the benefits would go to barge companies and their shippers and the economy of Pittsburgh; the costs would come from the residents, land, and economy of Preston and Tucker counties in the Senator’s state. Why would he want that? We can only suppose that early in his incumbency he was still learning to play the game, and for his mentors, including the late Senator Jennings Randolph, securing a multi-million-dollar dam for your state was a traditional way to run up the score.
It’s to the Senator’s credit that he eventually backed off from Rowlesburg. Early leaders of this organization had persisted long after the game was said to be over, and we had a dedicated ally in Congressman Ken Hechler-plus a statutory ally in the brand new requirement for an Environmental Impact Statement.
However, the stymie on the Cheat practically guaranteed a dam on the West Fork. The Stonewall Jackson Dam became a priority for Byrd. Never mind that the rules for cost-benefit analysis would not have allowed that project to go forward-the Senator would change the rules. Never mind that the Congressman from that district opposed the dam-the Senator would reach across the Capitol and threaten retaliation against any in the House of Representatives who voted for Bob Wise’s anti-dam amendment. One Hechler was more than enough!
That was the Senator we had to confront over Corridor H. In 1990, he left his position as Majority Leader to become chair of the Appropriations Committee. “I hope to become West Virginia’s billiondollar industry,” he told reporters. One of his first steps was to revive the last piece of the Appalachian Highway system in the state.
There were good reasons why Corridors D, E, G, and L had been built before the last hundred miles of H. Any way it went between Elkins and the Virginia line would carve through the heart of the Highlands. Its cost in dollars and damage would be greater and its benefits less than all the others. Over twenty-five years, our Highway Committee had parried each version of Corridor H until it was again put on the back burner. But now the Senator was at the stove. He repeatedly said he had nothing to do with the route it would follow; once that was chosen, he would make it happen.
In April 1994, Bonni McKeown, President of Corridor H Alternatives, and I were granted an interview-a favor for Bonni, who had worked with him on saving the Cardinal, the only passenger train through West Virginia. This was not in the senate office building but in S-128 at the Capitol, the Appropriations Committee’s spread of reception areas, august office and conference room, all overlooking the Mall. A general hush announced the Senator’s entry. His hair had gone completely white. His movements had slowed. When he told us that his staff had already expressed his position exactly, but he had decided to tell us himself, we understood the toll on him.
In the conference room, the table stretched into a dim distance. Each committee member’s name was engraved in antique script on a brass plate at his place; there was room for twenty-nine members and uncountable staff. The Senator arranged himself at the head of the table and fixed his gaze on us. “Go ahead, Bonni,” he said. “You the history and extent of opposition to the project, and turned to me for the economic arguments.
Thirty years of experience with the Appalachian corridors had demonstrated which four-lanes fulfilled their economic purpose and which had little effect. I wanted to say that corridors could be different, indeed should be different in different landscapes. Reaching for a rhetorical flourish, I addressed him as a historian, author of a multi-volume history of the Senate; I quoted Abraham Lincoln’s message to Congress in December, 1862: “As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves . . .”
The Senator’s eyes widened, he leaned forward and said with great conviction, “The case is NOT new!”
The Byrd I knew was ever the jealous protector of the legislative branch from the co-equal branches. He considered the most important function of the legislative branch was the power of the purse. He had attained the seat of that power-evident in the majesty of the rooms at S-128. And he would use that power in traditional, concrete ways. Dams. Highways. Buildings. If he could have, he would have moved all the administrators- bureaucrats-out of Washington to West Virginia, where they might not act any better but at least they’d pay state taxes.
The year after our interview, opposition to the corridor reached its high water mark. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) rated the project “Environmentally Unsatisfactory”. Senator Byrd was incensed. He made sure the regional administrator was fired, and the rating was modified.
We turned to the third branch of government, the judiciary, and again we had some success. But that’s not part of the story of the Senator and us. As far as I know, it didn’t matter to him that we emerged after trial, appeal, and mediation with an altered route and with some issues that may not be resolved for twenty more years. As long as construction went forward, he was still West Virginia’s billion-dollar industry.
Now we come to coal. On our long campaign against the abuses of that industry, Senator Byrd offered neither significant help nor hindrance until relatively recently. In 1999, four years after the EPA’s Corridor H rating, Judge Haden announced his decision in Bragg v. Robertson: valley fills were illegal; mountaintop removal mines should no longer be permitted. A calculated hysteria swept the state capitol, and although he surely didn’t have to, Byrd went along. The exaggerations in both cases were almost comically similar: No highways can be built! All mining will cease! The state’s finances are in crisis! The sky will fall! But this time, the Senator’s power fell short of his grasp. His legislative rider to circumvent the Surface Mine and Clean Water Acts failed.
It’s no surprise that the melancholy history of coal continued after that pause. The judge’s decision was reversed, the regulations were perverted, the mountains were blasted away. What surprised us was Senator Byrd’s change of heart in his last year. It was as if, having turned completely around on civil rights and Presidential wars, he was finally ready to really look at the industry that had shaped where he grew up, “one of the rock bottomest of states.”
This time, when the EPA announced that from now on mountaintop removal mines would be both fewer and smaller, he refused to join the hysterical chorus. Instead, he offered this wisdom:
It is also a reality that the practice of mountaintop removal mining has a diminishing constituency in Washington. It is not a widespread method of mining, with its use confined to only three states. Most members of Congress, like most Americans, oppose the practice, and we may not yet fully understand the effects of mountaintop removal mining on the health of our citizens. West Virginians may demonstrate anger toward the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) over mountaintop removal mining, but we risk the very probable consequence of shouting ourselves out of any productive dialogue with EPA and our adversaries in the Congress.
Some have even suggested that coal state representatives in Washington should block any advancement of national health care reform legislation until the coal industry’s demands are met by the EPA. I believe that the notion of holding the health care of over 300 million Americans hostage in exchange for a handful of coal permits is beyond foolish; it is morally indefensible. It is a non-starter, and puts the entire state of West Virginia and the coal industry in a terrible light.
–December 3, 2009