CALIFORNIA ALBUM : Bucolic Red Bluff Riled by Political Dust-Up : A militia, a country music development and a trio of supervisors dubbed the Tehama Mamas are among the ingredients in Tehama County’s latest controversy.

The latest flare-up here pits the “good old boys” of Tehama County against “the girls” in a power struggle involving property rights, the militia movement and a proposed country music development called Celebrity City.

For four months, overflow crowds have jammed meetings of the Tehama County Board of Supervisors to hear a rancorous exchange of charges swirling around the three elected women who control the board.

Depending on your point of view, they are either populist heroines trying to break the grip of old-line ranchers and developers, or they are right-wing ideologues and militia sympathizers with a secret agenda.

A committee, spearheaded by leading landowners and real estate interests, has forced a recall election against the trio by turning in 6,000 signatures in a county with just 20,000 registered voters. The election has been set for Feb. 6.

Acting on a complaint from the district attorney, the county grand jury has indicted the three supervisors--Shirley Marelli, Kathleen Rowen and JoAnn Landingham--for alleged conspiracy to violate the state open meetings act. Additionally, Marelli has been charged with illegally withholding documents.

If convicted, the three would be removed from the board.

Although locals frequently refer to the county seat straddling the Sacramento River as “Dead Bluff” because of its bucolic serenity, tree-shaded streets and faded Victorian homes, Tehama County government is no stranger to turmoil.

Always strapped for money, and saddled with state mandates that deplete the county coffers, Tehama County several times in the last decade has been on the brink of bankruptcy.

The latest convoluted brouhaha broke out when the controversial supervisors (sometimes referred to, not always unkindly, as the Tehama Mamas) attempted to get rid of at least two county officials who have a large say in development issues.

This came at a time when the county’s major development project took a big step forward. Celebrity City, a planned 3,000-acre project north of Red Bluff--with 46 arenas for country music, copied after Branson, Mo.--finally settled a yearlong legal wrangle with the Sierra Club.

The dream of real estate promoter Leo Urbanski, Celebrity City already has a green light from the supervisors. The country music mecca alongside Interstate 5 between Red Bluff and Redding is expected to increase real estate values in a 50-square-mile area of rolling scrub.

But critics of the dominant trio on the Board of Supervisors say that their style of governing--and a suspected right-wing agenda--could jeopardize Celebrity City and other development projects.

“Their Three Stooges behavior would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic,” said Robert Minch, point man for the recall effort and owner of a Red Bluff realty office. “Their inept, arrogant, stupid behavior defies description. It’s an embarrassment.”

And something more sinister is afoot, Minch insists. “The three vote as one,” he says, “and one of the gang, Rowen, has very close ties to the Tehama militia. She’s in with the crowd that sees black U.N. helicopters hovering everywhere.

“She’s behind an ultra-landowners-rights movement that doesn’t believe in any kind of zoning, and she’s pushing a hidden agenda.”

That agenda, Minch says, is to pack key posts in county government with outsiders, then create a “dictatorship” under the recently elected sheriff with the backing of the Tehama militia.

Marelli, the board chairwoman, admits that she is sometimes uncertain about parliamentary procedures. She often abruptly denies the opposition a chance to speak. But, according to Marelli, the real crux of the dispute isn’t a hidden agenda but plain old money and power.

“The [recall committee] is a bunch of bankers, developers and lawyers [involved] in a dirty, underhanded, sleazy attack on decent people’s reputations. Could it be that they have [their own] hidden agenda?

“They want to make sure that all planning and zoning and development remains in the hands of those loyal to them,” Marelli says. “We want to make sure that developers pay for their share for building and maintaining new roads.”

Prominent in the background of the dispute is Jim Rogers, a regular in the audience at board meetings--and commander of the Tehama militia. Tall, mustachioed and usually wearing a cowboy hat and vest, Rogers says the militia has about 100 members. The conflict in Tehama is basic, he says.

“What we have here is a power struggle pure and simple,” Rogers says. “We have three supervisors who won’t go along with the elite. People aren’t against Celebrity City, but they don’t want all the benefits going to the usual handful of people.”

Rogers, along with Supervisor Rowen, was instrumental in the earlier passage of a county proposition that outlawed all local zoning, although the measure was struck down by the courts.

As for philosophy, Rogers says his group supports firearms, property rights and “the highest-ranking elected law enforcement official, which is the county sheriff.”

On Nov. 6, Superior Court Judge Roy MacFarland slapped a gag order on all parties--including the other two supervisors, Charles Williard and Barbara McIver, who consistently oppose the majority--saying that any more local media attention would make it difficult to set a trial in Tehama for the indicted supervisors.

“This is an extremely awkward situation because of the persons involved,” MacFarland said. “I have never seen anything like it. How can legislation proceed with a majority of the supervisors tied up in court proceedings?”

Because of the gag order, the three indicted supervisors have been reluctant to speak to the media. “I’m paranoid about saying anything,” Marelli said.

Landingham, a retired kindergarten teacher who wears a sprig of flowers in her hair, only felt comfortable talking to the press about her Welsh ponies. During her election bid, she campaigned countywide in a horse-drawn covered wagon.

One of the majority’s controversial acts was to place county administrative assistant Richard Robinson on leave. He was once Marelli’s boss, and in 1986 defeated her in a race for county auditor.

Also under fire from the dominant three is county planning director George Hobeson, a 20-year county veteran widely perceived as sympathetic to the “good old boy” interests. Much of the fireworks at recent board meetings have centered on the trio’s struggle to undercut Hobeson’s authority over planning and zoning. Hobeson said the charge that he was under the thumb of the moneyed elite was “absurd.”

“This office is widely recognized as a model of efficiency,” Hobeson said. “What this is about is the philosophy of some extreme property rights advocates who object to any kind of enforcement.”

Standing on the sidelines, apparently, is the promoter of Celebrity City, who says he is remaining aloof from the fray.

“This thing with the supervisors doesn’t help me,” Urbanski said. “When I bring in potential investors and they pick up the local paper, they say: ‘What the hell is this?’ ”

Nonetheless, he said, the supervisors voted 5 to 0 in favor of Celebrity City. He isn’t eager to see changes.

“I’m not crazy about a recall that throws this open, maybe, to somebody who isn’t in favor,” he said, “although I don’t know who that would be in this county.”