Loggers See Little Hope for Industry’s Survival

Timber worker Dennis Mumey breathed a little easier Tuesday, but is unsure whether anything can resuscitate the industry that has sustained his family for generations in the seemingly endless forests of the Cascade Mountains.

Federal officials Tuesday unveiled an interim plan whose goal is to protect the northern spotted owl but preserve most lumber jobs--at least for now.

In Mill City, about 80 miles southeast of Portland, Mumey and other workers said the government’s retreat from an expected logging ban on millions of acres of timberland ultimately will not make much difference.

“That’s a little encouraging, but I’m not sure it’s much of a decision for us,” said Mumey, who for 28 years has worked at the sprawling North Santiam Plywood mill, a dreary spot on the Santiam River that belches smoke and steam 24 hours a day.

The plan essentially maintains the status quo in logging until September, when a non-scientific task force will release a revised plan to balance efforts to revive the dwindling population of the northern spotted owl with attempts to preserve timber jobs.

Regardless of what finally is decided, many people will continue working in the mills and forests. But thousands of others could lose their jobs and a way of life that is as deeply rooted as the dark, brooding old-growth forests around them.

“I love it here. I love the trees and the green. This is my world,” Mumey said. “But if they shut the mill down, there’s nothing for me but menial jobs. We’ll be down at Salem signing up for welfare.”

Tuesday’s announcement comes at an up-and-down time for the timber industry. The supply of logs in the district already has dwindled to a fraction of former levels, largely because of lawsuits from environmental groups that have tied up federal timber sales, said Dave Black, a U.S. Forest Service planner. The mills have continued operating by cutting timber they had been holding for use years from now.

In addition, the recession of the early 1980s cut wages and automation has eliminated some jobs, while raw logs are increasingly being exported to Asia, further drying up the supply that the mills need to keep running.

“Only the strong will survive,” predicted Al Ward, a contract logger who has lived all his life in Mill City, population 1,540. “I’ve seen the heydays and they’ll never come back the way it was in the past.”

Ward figures he only has enough work to keep his logging crew busy for the rest of the summer, and is unsure if any more timber will be freed by the plan. It’s a frustrating thought as he drives through the mountains, littered with thousands of logs blown down in an enormous windstorm in January. The logs have been off-limits because of uncertainty about the federal government’s next step. “We can’t even touch it,” he said. “What a godawful waste.”

In the timber towns of the Northwest, life is woven in a tight fabric that ripples when a single thread is pulled. Ellen Spears said if the mills cut back or lay off workers, she’ll feel it right away at the Guys and Gals Cut and Style.

“We’ll go, (along) with a lot of other luxuries,” Spears said.

Mill City Mayor Charles Tate, a field agent for Pacific Power & Light Co., said smaller local timber revenues would mean less money for city schools and county services. Troubles in logging also may bring lower home prices and more family discord, he said.

“We’re trying to find alternatives,” Tate said, “but what have we got to offer? If I could think of anything, I would be right out there yelling and screaming. No one wants to see a town die.”

There is some hope for Mill City, he said. After all, the icy Northern Santiam River cuts through town, attracting summer tourists and fishermen to hook a steelhead trout or chinook salmon struggling upstream to their spawning grounds.

Past the steaming mills on the outskirts of town, there is a quiet beauty to the landscape that has attracted retirees from California who can buy a nice house for $60,000.

But for the most part, the future looks grim. Tate’s voice echoes with the same frustrations heard in the voices of loggers as they talk about the prospects of more timber contracts next year, and mill workers, as they wonder how much longer the machinery will continue churning out the stream of plywood and 2-by-4s that have built much of America.

“The smart people, they’re going to leave,” Tate said. “I love this town and I don’t like to say that, but everybody knows it.”