The luster is gone from Wisconsin’s once proud Department of Natural Resources (DNR). For years, the state agency was widely regarded as one of the nation’s best natural resource managers. But budget cuts, reorganization and staffing shortages, and charges of political influence have tarnished the DNR’s sterling image and raised questions about its ability to regulate what, in DNR-speak, is called "the resource."
If the DNR is struggling with its mission, the timing couldn’t be worse. On the eve of a new millennium, the Badger state’s natural resources are stretched and stressed like never before.
"We are the playground for a whole pile of people," observes Tom Harelson, the DNR’s chief of wardens. Pressure on the resource, he says, is at an "all time high" from recreation and tourism, development, population growth, and sagging compliance with Wisconsin’s hunting and fishing laws.
Harelson was eight years old when he first dreamed of being a warden. "It’s absolutely the best job in the world," he says, but he admits to shock and alarm from what he’s discovered since taking his current post about a year and a half ago. In a memo to his boss, DNR Secretary George Meyer, Harelson earlier this year outlined his concerns about the agency’s first line of defense for the resource and public safety - its "thin gray line" of wardens.
Wisconsin, with 185 conservation wardens, ranks 49th in the country in the number of wardens per hunters and fishers. Budget cuts and an increasing workload from more laws and more people are placing greater stress on wardens and their families. After heading home from a full day’s work, wardens frequently spend several hours on the phone at night and on weekends responding to the daily deluge of 30 or more phone calls from citizens with questions and complaints.
Compounding the workload is a changing public attitude. According to Harelson, "a growing element of the population seems to be exhibiting a brazen disregard for the resource." Perhaps the worst among the many examples sited by Harelson are those involving "thrill killing." At one DNR facility, the remains of 90 trout were dumped in the parking lot during the catch and release trout season. A poacher in Rusk and Dunn County shined, shot and killed 60 deer, running over those with his vehicle that were not yet dead. And in Sauk County, poachers shot more than 20 deer for their horns, leaving the carcasses to rot.
"We are at the breaking point," declares Harelson. His thin gray linehas become a dotted line with gaping holes that can’t be patched anymore.
Holes have also appeared in the DNR’s regulation of state non- fish and game environmental laws. The number of violations referred for prosecution to the state Department of Justice (DOJ) has fallen dramatically. Last year’s total of 68 referrals (according to DOJ numbers) slumped from 114 in 1996. Information covering the first three months of this year indicates a similar pace of prosecutorial enthusiasm.
In the state’s populous and heavily industrialized southeast region, prosecution referrals slowed to a virtual standstill last year with prosecution for air and hazardous waste violations nearly vanishing.
One of DNR Secretary Meyer’s more controversial recent appointments was that of David Meier as head of the agency’s enforcement team. In his previous position with the Department of Transportation (DOT), Meier - a onetime aide to Tommy Thompson - was seen as hostile towards environmental laws by many in the environmental community. "He rabidly opposed lots of environmental regulations at DOT," charges Rebecca Katers of the Clean Water Action Council in Green Bay.
George Meyer allows that Meier carried baggage but maintains he’s a victim of circumstances. "It was my decision to appoint him," Meyer says. "He’s been very active with me trying to get at some of the underlying reasons" for the drop in enforcement referrals.
But the DNR has changed its attitude as well, toning down confrontation and instead encouraging assistance, cooperation, and partnering with industry. "Maybe they went too far" says Meyer with that approach in the southeast region. "I have made directives that all significant environmental violations need to be prosecuted." Meyer does mention this year’s successful prosecution of billionaire John Menard who paid $1.7 million in fines for hauling bagged toxic wastes home to his curbside for disposal along with his household trash.
Meyer says a high number of vacancies in the enforcement program could be one reason for the drop in referrals. And there may be fewer bad actors because of what he attributes to a growing level of compliance with laws and programs that are better understood with the passage of time.
A report prepared last year by the DNR assessing the hazardous waste enforcement effort reaches some of these same conclusions. It notes a reduction in resources directed at enforcement while outreach and assistance resources grew, cites a diminished level of formal inspections, and indicates that although the level of violations remained constant, the number of referrals to DOJ "inexplicably declined."
Leaner budgets, fewer resources, new regulations, and confusion over how to reconcile assistance efforts with enforcement activities are mentioned by the report as possible causes.
Al Matano has his own view. The former DNR employee worked in the agency’s hazardous waste program for five years before quitting in disgust a year ago. He blames the DNR’s controversial reorganization and the attitude of the Natural Resources Board - the governor appointed board of citizens that guides DNR policy.
"Hazardous waste positions were scattered to three bureaus and staffing was not maintained," Matano says. "Most employees," he contends, "were looking to get out." Matano wrote a memo critical of the reorganization effort that earned him a reprimand from his superior.
Matano describes the attitude of the Natural Resources Board as more interested in the regulated community than regulation. "They were telling us, ‘How can you make this easier for people?’" Frequently, he says, the Board took an adversarial view towards DNR staff.
The federal Environmental Protection Agency is also watching the DNR’s hazardous waste enforcement activities. Much of the state’s funding for their hazardous waste programs comes from federal dollars. "We have expressed our concerns," says the EPA’s Joe Boyle. Boyle hopes future state reports will clear-up what is happening in the program but he adds that in other states, the EPA has "withheld money in the past due to state footdragging."
Meyer’s vision of a reorganized DNR - with consolidated offices, a "customer" friendly approach, and decentralized teams of staff neatly organized along geographic and watershed boundaries - never really had a chance to take root before the agency was rocked by the governor’s 1995 budget. The budget bill eliminated the DNR’s historic independence (making it a cabinet level department and the Secretary a direct appointee of the Governor), slashed $45 million from its budget, and cut staffing by 230 positions.
The funding and employee cuts made for tough choices. A decision was made to save $36,000 by pulling the plug on river monitors that had been collecting critical water quality data for two decades on the Wisconsin River. (More tons of pollution enter the Wisconsin than any other state river.) A similar move on the Fox River was prevented only by finding private sources of funding for the monitors. The Wisconsin River action occurred during the agency’s debate over the impact of Exxon’s (now Rio Algom’s) proposed discharge of mine wastewater into the river from the possible mine at Crandon.
Wisconsin’s Trout Stamp program, which began in 1983, pumps money into a segregated account for trout habitat improvement. Staff shortages in the DNR over the past three years have the account bulging with $1.5 million in unexpended funds, according to John Welter of Eau Claire who is an avid angler and state chair of Trout Unlimited. "It makes you want to cry to go into areas where work was done 15 years ago and see that it hasn’t been maintained and is in danger of being lost," Welter says.
Welter is convinced that volunteers from his group and neighbors of various local waterways will help with the habitat work, but they need a certain level of support from the DNR to get the job done - particularly field survey work and someone to run a single piece of heavy earth moving equipment. One DNR biologist at Black River Falls who was involved with trout projects, says Welter, has yet to be replaced two years after leaving his position.
Trout improvements offer an additional benefit - a wedge against unbridled development. By getting easements and habitat programs in place, development next to areas like Black Earth Creek and Hwy 14 near Madison will be forced to adapt. "The [improved] sand streams are things to treasure, an oasis of wildlife," Welter believes.
A different kind of development, factory farming, has others upset with the DNR’s regulatory ability. Only 5.5 DNR staff monitor the state’s animal waste problem. "The DNR has documented that animal waste is a major problem," says Pam Porter of Wisconsin’s Environmental Decade. Decade staff have examined the agency’s files on the matter and are disappointed by the lack of action.
"There are a number of farms," Porter says, "that are directly discharging manure into streams and the DNR is doing nothing about it." She argues that the agency needs more staff and, more importantly, a willingness to take on powerful agricultural interests. When the DNR first began regulating animal waste in the early 1970s, southwestern Wisconsin farmers met DNR staff with pitchforks. Porter thinks the agency fears the regulatory challenge posed by today’s increased factory farming practices.
Meyer readily admits the 1995 budget cuts hurt. "The budget cuts were too much," and explains that they had to weigh personnel against technology. He believes another 50 to 75 staff are needed to bolster the effort of the existing 2900 staff. His number one target is more help for water regulation. Meyer has already worked with the legislature and the Governor to get another 17 conservation wardens hired and trained this year. (According to Harelson, it would cost around $10 million for the 139 additional wardens he says are needed to meet the state’s regulatory challenge.) And he wants additional staff for inspection of the state’s dams, an area that has lagged in recent years.
Meyer is adamant that his agency will be the first in the country to establish performance standards for manure handling. "For example," he says, "you’re not going to be able to stack manure next to a creek."
Rep. DuWayne Johnsrud (R-Eastman) sees different needs. Johnsrud chairs the Assembly’s Natural Resources Committee and has frequently criticized the DNR during his legislative tenure. (Johnsrud is also touted as a possible replacement for Meyer should Thompson win re-election fall.) Johnsrud thinks more staff are needed, but not conservation wardens. "I would give up eight game wardens for one biologist," he says. In other states other agency employees can issue citations. Johnsrud offers this as a way to share the workload.
Johnsrud is proud of the DNR’s performance yet critical of their budgeting. He believes funding levels are adequate but with money coming from eight distinct sources, he says getting a handle on the agency’s spending "is so complicated it’s like trying to get through the mafia’s books."
Meyer’s commitment to reorganization has been colored by his desire to minimize lay-offs. In a number of instances, personnel transferred to different agency jobs with minimal training or experience in their new bureau. This has caused confusion with the public, co-workers, and perceptions of disorder in the agency.
"Nobody knows what’s going on," says Don Hildebrandt, a Wausau native and Conservation Director of the Wisconsin State Bass Federation. When he had a question, Hildebrandt used to call the local fish manager. Now he says he doesn’t even know who to contact. The new system "has created lots of middle managers, or ass kissers," insists Hildebrandt. "And field work," he adds, "is getting axed left and right. That’s what’s really sad about it."
Welter is upset, too. "One of the major effects of reorganization has been disarray in fish management." Welter says senior managers were kicked upstairs as other staff transferred out of the program. More job responsibilities were added for staff in the pared down bureau. Welter knows one fish manager in western Wisconsin who now spends part of his time re-licensing dams.
Morale inside the DNR has suffered, as well, from all of the changes although Meyer contends it has improved during the past 8-10 months. It’s not surprising that major changes inside of any organization will produce a certain level of unhappiness and discomfort. But fear of retribution from speaking out and dissatisfaction with workload, staff assignments, and supervision seems widespread in the agency. When asked about these issues, DNR employees frequently validate these concerns but refuse to talk on the record about them.
"I am extremely hard-pressed to find anyone in their 30’s with any spark left," says one unhappy staffer off-the-record. This same employee mentions fear, money shortages and politics as troubling factors harming work in the DNR’s water bureau, the agency’s largest bureau. Another individual mentions a "profound sense of resignation" that’s common to many employees and says they worry about the erosion of the agency’s former high work standards.
Records obtained from the DNR’s own employee counseling program paint a similar picture. The program’s busiest year of counseling, since its formation in 1983, was 1997. Work stress and conflict at work were the two most common problems with complaints over work stress up 340% when compared to 1993.
Last April, the Conservation Congress - an advisory group to the DNR - voted 2797 to 130 in favor of restoring the political independence of the DNR. It’s a move supported by many in the conservation and environmental community worried about political influence on resource decisions and has even prompted the appearance of "Free George Meyer" bumperstickers.
Whether on the stage with him at the state Republican convention or appearing with the governor in a Wisconsin State Journal front page photo of their sesquicentennial canoe trip down the Wisconsin River, Thompson has brought Meyer closer to his office. Meyer sees an upside, saying he’s in more meetings with the governor and has greater access. Describing their relationship as "very positive," Meyer explains that "I’m as close to him on environmental issues as anyone in the state."
This summer’s canoe trips down both the Fox and Wisconsin Rivers gets a ringing endorsement from Meyer. The two new canoes, reminiscent of early explorer crafts, cost the agency about $8000 plus DNR staff time on planning and actual help with paddling the dignitaries down the rivers. Meyer suggests that the trip, though, was "probably the most valuable time we spent this summer" as it allowed he and other staff access to the governor’s ear during their three days on the water.
One of the more glaring examples of political influence on the DNR, according to critics, is the clean-up of the Fox River. Since 1986, the DNR has pondered how to remove toxic PCBs from a 39 mile stretch of the river’s sediments. The Lower Fox River is the most significant source of PCB contamination in the entire Great Lakes region and carries up to 70% of the PCBs entering Lake Michigan
Originally discharged by paper companies, PCBs can damage the nervous, immune, circulatory, reproductive, and hormonal systems and cause disorders of the liver, brain and skin. DNR advisories warn of the health effects from eating the Fox River’s fish and ducks. According to the EPA, the Lower Fox and Green Bay have levels of PCBs in water, fish, and other wildlife which range from about 100 to 10,000 times safe levels.
"We can’t trust the DNR," charges Rebecca Katers. "George Meyer has had 12 years to deal with this, what has he accomplished," asks Katers. Katers has monitored the Fox’s pollution problems for 16 years and served on a DNR policy committee from 1986 to 1991 which explored clean-up options. She says she was forced off the committee because she advocated making the paper companies pay for the Fox River’s clean-up.
As long ago as 1986, Katers pushed for federal Superfund status for the Fox. The designation provides immediate money for clean-up activities while liablity details are worked out. The DNR and their advisory committee rejected this approach, arguing it would result in 10 years of litigation with no clean-up. Instead, after six years of study, the DNR in 1992 created the Fox River Coalition to pursue a "voluntary cooperative approach." Fourteen paper industry representatives were invited into the effort while environmentalists, conservationists and ordinary citizens were left out of the loop. The DNR, Katers says, did not want to harm their "good working relationship" with the paper industry.
Katers blames the huge amount of money poured intoThompson’s campaign coffers as a major reason for the soft regulatory approach. Between 1990 and 1997, Thompson received $155,553 from the paper industry, and $45,029 came from companies directly impacted by Fox clean-up decisions.
In January 1997, Thompson again moved to stall federal intervention. The day before the fed’s planned to announce their intent to sue the polluters responsible for the PCB problem, Thompson surprised everyone with a secret $10 million deal with the paper companies for limited clean-up of one of the Fox River’s PCB hotspots. No one outside of the paper industry was consulted about the deal, which covers only a small portion of the estimated $300 million to $1.2 billion required for removal of all the Fox’s PCBs.
Still frustrated by the lack of action, the federal EPA announced earlier this year that they were declaring the Fox a Superfund site. The EPA’s Jim Hahnenberg says "we didn’t think progress was being made fast enough." The EPA wanted to make the Superfund determination as long ago as 1991 but backed away under state pressure. "The state wanted their voluntary process to work its magic," Hahnenberg explains. "We didn’t see any significant commitment," he adds. Following the September 30 close of the public comment period, the EPA will make its final determination on Superfund status for the Fox.
Mining is another issue where critics see political fingerprints on the DNR. Conservation and environmental groups criticized the DNR for what they saw as the agency’s opposition to the recently enacted mining moratorium law. They are also upset by a recent DNR mining public information campaign which seems only to refute statements made by mining opponents while ignoring mining company claims. They cite the DNR’s "Misconceptions About Mining in Wisconsin" phamphlet as an example.
The Sierra Club’s Dave Blouin has been in touch with one DNR staffer who says the Governor wanted the DNR to slow work on the proposed Crandon mine’s Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) so that it wouldn’t come out before the election. (Exxon’s sale of its ownership share in the project accomplished this anyway.)
Following the meeting where the Governor supposedly made this remark, the DNR’s Jeff Schmipf indicates in a memo that "it seemed like our division administrator was looking for things we could require of the mining company that would cause a delay in our EIS schedule." Despite this, Schmipf adds that the governor’s views and directives "will not interfere with the outcome of our review process."
Meyer flatly rejects any such remark was ever made by Thompson. "I was at that meeting," says Meyer. "He has never, ever asked for the project to be speeded up or slowed down."
Gazing into his crystal ball, Meyer is encouraged. "I think we are exceptionally well placed to carry out the mission for the 21st century, " he says, noting he wouldn’t have said that five years ago. "Our new organizational structure is geared perfectly to care for the next century," Meyer adds. He lists gains in air and water pollution control, the addition of 400,000 acres of forested lands in Wisconsin over the past quarter century, and the restoration of various threatened species as markers of progress in Wisconsin.
By combining the tools of ecosystem management and strategic partnerships, Meyer asserts that "we are going to be the more pre-eminent agency in the country 25 years from now." He mentions the need for identifying additional funding sources for resource programs, particularly finding money to help non-game species. And he believes state dollars must be funneled into the state’s resource base. "We need," he says, "to reinvest dollars back into the engine that’s driving this state."
The DNR is a difficult animal to manage and still "one splendid agency," but Harold "Bud" Jordahl is not convinced that the agency is ready for the demands of the next century. Jordahl, of Madison, has been a longtime observer and participant in state resource issues. He served on the DNR’s Natural Resources Board from 1972-77 and chaired it for two years.
The potential for political influence on resource decisions bothers him. "I think the risks are a little bit too great, Jordahl says. He’s also concerned that some of the agency’s top people lack the background and experience to deal with natural resource issues and may instead be more concerned with politics. "That’s troublesome, I don’t like it," says Jordahl.
Looking ahead, Jordahl likewise calls for more support for the DNR. He identifies the need for an aggressive new Stewardship Program to capture Wisconsin’s vanishing resources and broader participation by residents in funding the breadth of DNR programs. "We simply can’t keep this thing running on the basis of user fees and other income," he says.