Manzanar and the Big Stall

The mystery deepens. Six months ago, a bill was submitted in Congress to create a national historic monument at the old Manzanar internment camp. Fifty years after we rounded up the Japanese-Americans and put them behind barbed wire for the duration of WW II, the country finally seemed ready to commemorate the crimes committed there.

The Democrats supported the bill. The Republicans supported it. So did the White House. All the ducks had lined up.

But no bill has left the Congress. For six months it has stewed. And now, with the holiday adjournment approaching, there is an increasing possibility that 1991 will come and go without congressional action on Manzanar.

Why the stew?

Because the current owner of the Manzanar site has stalled the legislation at every turn, demanding concessions that baffle the bill’s supporters, threatening to block the transfer of the land. The current owner, and only the current owner, stands in the way of the bill’s speedy passage.

That owner is the city of Los Angeles.

More specifically, the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. The ruins of Manzanar happen to be located in the middle of the city’s vast water farm in the Owens Valley. Of the 250,000 acres that the city owns in the valley, Manzanar comprises about 600.

Not a big deal, you might think. But the Owens Valley produces about 70% of the city’s water supply. And the department manages that land like England once managed India. Impending change, any change, is greeted with suspicion. Threats are perceived everywhere.

When we first discussed the stall over Manzanar back in August, the department was claiming that its concerns were minor. All that was needed, said board President Michael Gage, was the addition of some “language” in the bill assuring the city that its water rights would not be handicapped.

If you have difficulty seeing how the creation of a 600-acre historic site could threaten the city’s rights on its remaining quarter-million acres, join the crowd. No one in Congress understands either. The mystery is enhanced when you realize that the original legislation stated that the city’s water rights “shall not be affected.”

Nonetheless, everyone tried to solve the department’s problem. First, Congressman Mel Levine had a go. Proposed changes flew back and forth between Washington and L.A.

Nothing doing. Finally, the House of Representatives went ahead and passed a version that the department deemed unacceptable.

Then the bill went to the Senate where Sen. Alan Cranston’s office gave it a try. More changes, more new language.

Same result. At one point the department said no to this proposed version:

“Nothing in this Title shall provide any new authority of the Secretary over land or activities outside the boundaries of the site.” The “secretary” in that sentence refers to the secretary of the Interior, who administers national historic monuments.

Somehow, in this language, the department saw the makings of mischief. But where? By whom?

A mystery. In fairness, it should be pointed out that the department did offer its own compromise proposals during the negotiations. These proposals, in fact, stand as the only clear statement of what the department really wants, and may offer a clue to the mystery.

Charles Warren, executive director of the State Lands Commission, scrutinized the proposals for Cranston, and then offered this: “(They) could have the effect of immunizing it (the department) from regulation under the Clean Water Act, the Clean Air Act, and the public trust doctrine.”

In other words, the department appeared to be suggesting an exchange: It would spring Manzanar in return for an exemption from existing environmental laws in the Owens Valley.

This would have constituted no small boon to the department. The valley, you understand, currently suffers from some of the worst dust storms in the nation, thanks largely to the department’s activities. There have been lawsuits, there will be more, and the federal Environmental Protection Agency is leaning on the department to heal some of the valley’s wounds.

So maybe that explains the mystery. In one sense, it is satisfying to think there is some rational basis, however unsavory, to the department’s behavior.

In any case, the impasse continues. On Wednesday comes one more hearing on the Manzanar bill, probably its last chance for 1991.

That gives everyone three days to find a solution. Three days to prove that government can, at least, accomplish a simple, straightforward act of commemoration.

Or prove that it cannot.