Flagstaff, AZ

On Wednesday, May 30th the United States Department of Justice on behalf of the Forest Service filed for a rehearing and appeal “en banc” in the case to protect the San Francisco Peaks in Northern Arizona. The 9th Circuit Court of Appeals previously ruled in favor of Native American tribes and environmental groups on the grounds that a proposed ski area development and expansion would violate the Religious Freedom Restoration Act and the National Environmental Policy Act.

The Peaks, which are held holy by more than 13 Native American Nations, have been at the center of a legal battle that has pitted tribes and environmental groups against the U.S. Forest Service and a small private ski area. The Arizona Snowbowl ski area has been attempting an expansion and snowmaking with treated sewage effluent on the sacred mountain. The US Forest Service, which leases the land to Snowbowl, approved the decision but was faced with lawsuits by the Navajo Nation, Hopi Tribe, Hualapai Tribe, the White Mountain Apache Tribe, the Yavapai-Apache Tribe, the Havasupai Tribe, the Sierra Club, the Center for Biological Diversity, and the Flagstaff Activist Network.

Info:
The Save the Peaks Coalition also has called for a demonstration on Monday, June 4th at the Coconino National Forest Service office in Flagstaff Arizona. The protest will be held from 11:30 am until 2:00 pm. The Forest Service office is located at 1824 S. Thompson St. (off of W. route 66, across the street from the Daily Sun).

A class-action lawsuit might soon settle the question: Can federal agencies conduct important business during ceremonial holidays when traditional Hopis are bound to be absent?

Former Hopi chair candidate Valjean Joshevama and religious practitioner Jerry Honawa have brought suit against the Office of Surface Mining, saying public hearings about a proposed pipeline to support mining operations at Black Mesa were ill-timed.

An Indian tribe fastened a massive glass-bottomed walkway to the edge of the Grand Canyon on Wednesday as part of an ambitious tourism center that has angered environmentalists and some tribal members.

The Hualapai (pronounced WALL-uh-pie), an impoverished tribe of about 2,200 people at the canyon’s remote western edge, allowed a private developer to construct the $30 million Skywalk in hopes of luring tourists to the region.

The tribe will open it to the public later this month, charging $25 per person in addition to other entry fees. Organizers expect the Skywalk to become the main draw in a community of tribal attractions that includes a cowboy town, an Indian village, helicopter tours and Hummer rides through the outback.

“The Grand Canyon has name appeal, and since part of the reservation lies in that, it only seems natural that we use the attraction to the benefit of the tribe,” Hualapai Chairman Charlie Vaughn said.

At 1.07 million pounds, the Skywalk is about as heavy as four Boeing 757 jets stacked atop one another. It was perched at the canyon’s edge using an elaborate system of pulleys connected to four tractor-trailers.

word. Finally some good news. I have to say, I really wasn’t expecting this.

From the AZ Daily Sun

The operators of Arizona Snowbowl cannot use reclaimed wastewater to make snow, the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled today.

In a unanimous decision, the judges said there is no evidence that denying the operators of Snowbowl the ability to use sewage for artificial snow would force the facility, located on U.S. Forest Service land, to shut down. They said there is no “compelling governmental interest'’ in having artificial snow on the San Francisco Peaks.

From San Diego
From the Sierra Club
New York Times
North Country

Update: This is not printed in the March edition of the Noise. Chuck, our editor was deathly ill during editing and had to cut several pages. I’m cool with it. Here is your usual unedited sneak peak. The March issue of The Noise should hit the streets at the end of February.The aftermath of a local squabble over which arts-oriented newspaper truly supports locality in Flagstaff has left many citizens “a buzz” with conversation surrounding the topic. Although the issue has largely resulted in attempts to demean and discredit each side through name-calling and reputation gauging (and I’ll admit, I centered myself on the front lines as well), I have been thinking about the issue of locality from a larger perspective.

The sun hasn’t been up for more than an hour or two. I’m currently sitting at Macy’s, drinking coffee on an empty stomach, waiting for a friend to show up. In an attempt, therefore, to drown out the screams coming from my digestive system, I’ve started really thinking about how we, as a culture, understand a few simple questions regarding where we live: What does it mean to support locality? Who or what has the credibility or the right to define what supporting locality entails? I think, maybe, the most important question is: what does it mean to live here? I’m thinking that maybe these questions are too deep to intelligently explore before the morning embrace of caffeine fully sets in, but I’ve already posed these questions and I have another half an hour before my friend shows.

I’m sitting too close to the door and the frequency of chills coming from that direction tells me that the morning coffee rush is officially underway. It’s one of those cold, but sunny mornings; you know, the kind of morning when you dread the frost layered on the seat of your bicycle, and you’re not sure if you should wear a jacket or not because you know when the sun is high in the sky you’re going to wish you didn’t have it with you. It seems on this particular morning, most people have opted to wear the jacket. They’ll be sorry later.

The population of Flagstaff is a very strange brew. In a postmodern age combined with an unprecedented model of divisive politics, the walls that separate us from each other are only getting stronger. As I look around the coffee shop, I see a couple forest service guys covered in dirt and five o’clock shadows, several students with headphones plugged into laptops, and a group of dreaded men and women sitting together. They’re either talking about a recent hike they just did or one they’re planning. I can’t tell. There are some rock and roll kids eating pastries on the table in front of me. Then there are the business types, who don’t sit down. They walk directly from the cash register, past me, out the door to their cars left running on the side of the street. There is a homeless man (I can only presume he’s homeless and I don’t have to tell you that he’s Native American) sitting on one of the benches across the street. Some people acknowledge him, most don’t.

The sun has just cleared the buildings and, as I stare out the window and across the street, the cars and bikes seem to blur together as they race down Beaver St. I shut my laptop, grab a notebook, and start talking to people about how they support the local flavor that Flagstaff has to offer and how important they feel this support is. It might be my location, but no matter how many different ways I frame this question, everyone seems to think I’m only talking about supporting local businesses. One person, a girl from the group I’ve deemed “the dready table,” makes the connection to local music. She asked if I was from the paper that bad mouthed one of her favorite local bands, Gravy. I said, “as long as you have absolutely no follow-up questions, no… no I’m not.” Needless to say I moved on. The morning is ripening, but I certainly haven’t had enough coffee to fuel my involvement in that kind of confrontation. I wasn’t looking for that kind of conversation anyway. None of this was really helping. I was looking for something that goes much deeper than consumer or musical allegiances, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

I noticed an older guy sitting alone, drinking tea, hunched over the Daily Sun. I walked up to him thinking, ah, here is a levelheaded man who, because he is old of course, will give me the kind of insight I’m looking for. It turns out I was right.

I told him who I was and that I wanted to write a short essay on how our culture understand locality. I said I was interested in getting citizens perspectives on what it’s like to live here, what it means to them, and how they can best support all things “local.” He said that I shouldn’t be asking him that. Immediately I thought he was giving me that senior citizen “I can’t relate to you youngsters” bit, but then he went on to say that I wouldn’t get a solid answer from anyone in this place. I said, “what do you mean? I’ve been talking to people all morning and everyone seems to genuinely care about supporting locality in Flagstaff in different ways.” He sipped his tea and folded his newspaper. “No doubt people care about supporting local businesses and the things they enjoy about this town,” he said, “but if you want to know what it means to live here,” he went on, emphasizing the word “here” by stomping his foot and pointing to the ground, “none of us can help you because we don’t really live here.” I told him that I didn’t understand. He said if I want to know what it is like to live here, on stolen indigenous land covered by millions of acres of ponderosa pine, aspens and wild black walnut trees, that I should go into the woods and talk to squirrels, woodpeckers, mule deer, and elk about what it means to live here, because they have to know in order to survive. “They live here, we don’t,” he smiled as he noticed my understanding. Hand’s down, this guy is my hero.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation all day. Now I’m back on my computer after a long walk around the neighborhood with my dog. As I watch the setting sun turn the peaks a vibrant pink, I thought back, wondering why this man’s attempt to shift my perspective on locality had such a big impact on me. If he would have talked to me about the invasion of Starbucks or the affect of the new Super Wal-Mart on the local economy, I think this column would have been easier to write. While out on our walk, my dog and I sauntered past a very large subdivision that is just breaking ground near my house. The fifty-five acre plot is riddled with holes, brand new roads, and trees marked for deletion with stakes and spray paint. I wondered if the invading backhoes and chainsaws upset my nonhuman neighbors in the same way that the possibility of a downtown Starbucks or the closing of Gopher Sounds is upsetting to Flagstaff residents. I knew right away that I couldn’t even compare the two. There is an obvious distinction between the ongoing destruction of one’s community and simply allowing one’s community to become generic with hegemonic logos.

This brought me back to the topic at hand. I think the question I’m really trying to get to the bottom of here is, what is “home?” Our idea of what home is, it seems, is a reflection of what we value. Conflicts arise when these perceptions of home clash in unpredictable ways. As the cultural and socio-economic divisions of Flagstaff continue to palpitate in intensity, the less likely we will be able to come to a consensus in terms of our expectations of “home.” Further, because Flagstaff draws a lot of visitors with preconceived notions of what this town is all about, there are many sectors that seem to do everything they can to accommodate those fantasies.

I think citizens need to ask themselves if their idea of home is truly reflective of the reality in which we actually live or if that perception is merely a projection of desire fueled by stereotypes and fantasies. Do you walk past the homeless man and pretend he doesn’t exist or do you acknowledge his presence and include him in your experience of living here?

I think most residents, at least those who read this paper, would agree that the rising tide of corporate entities invading our town is degrading any sense of community we once had. While driving down Milton, it’s obvious that we’ve reached a point where there is very little that separates us from any other town or city and I think a lot of the bickering about supporting locality is a result of this corporate colonization. Stores are closing left and right downtown because of rising rent costs thanks to greedy landlords who will sell this town out in a heartbeat if we let them.

I’m thinking again of that large construction site in my neighborhood. There is another, very obvious distinction that needs to be drawn as I consider the systematic dismantling of that natural community verses the invasion of corporations into ours. The nonhuman animals don’t have a choice; like a microcosm of corporate expansion, our culture will take until there is nothing left. We have more power than we are willing to exercise. If we don’t want the character and sense of community sucked out of us by an onslaught of corporate vampires, there is no reason why we should be complacent when they move in.

I heard Starbucks is trying to set up shop downtown. If Flagstaff has any self-respect and dignity left, I don’t see how this could possibly happen. We live in an age of pre-emptive war. If we woke up tomorrow with the news that we bombed North Korea or Iran or whoever the enemy du jour is, we would all be full of anger and embarrassment, but none of us would necessarily be surprised. Starbucks has developed a similar axiom and considering the way Flagstaff is moving, if we woke up tomorrow and there was a Starbucks next to Late For the Train, we would all be full of anger and embarrassment, but nobody can say they’d be surprised. Our downtown is the heart of Flagstaff’s character, and character comes from the spirit of authenticity. Small towns thrive on the idea that they’ve got something no other town has…. and we’re losing it. Name one college town, for example, that doesn’t have one independent record store?

It is true, none of us may really live “here” (as I stomp my foot on the ground), but if we are going maintain, at the very least, the illusion of a thriving community, we should be exercising some concern over who is moving here and what kind of affect this has on our home.

PRESCOTT

Nearly 50 area residents have volunteered to form a Prescott chapter of the Minuteman Civil Defense Corps, a civilian group that patrols the U.S.-Mexico border and watches for businesses that hire illegal immigrants, a Minuteman leader says.

Does anyone think something like this would fly in Flagstaff?

Our good friend Chipotle Frank recently wrote a scathing review of one of Flagstaff’s many generic country/rock outfits, Gravy. You know, one of those bands that play at Charly’s and it pisses you off because you don’t want to see the band because one just like it is playing down the street, but you’ve got to pay the cover just to go upstairs to get a beer at Zane Grey’s, the other bar in the historic Weatherford Hotel. Or, I think, they also fit in well with the type of band you might see playing outside of Flagbrew on the patio, drawing in tourists longing for that fresh-off-the-mountain-good-ol-boy-simple-charm feeling that only comes from cowboy hats, the twang of a western guitar, and lyrics that suggest, “I’m sexist as hell, but I’m too damn ‘country’ to admit that’s a bad thing.”

Then, in response, Ryan Heinsius, editor of FlagLive, the other local arts newspaper, wrote a scathing review of Mr. Frank’s review of the band, referring to The Noise as “garbage” and Chipotle Frank as “obnoxious” among many other patronizing and sarcastic degradations. His basic argument, it seems to me, is that citizens should support anything and everything local, no matter how generic, immoral, or just plain stupid the detail in question might be.

Before I go more into the specifics of Heinsius’ heinous remarks, there are a few things about FlagLive that I should make clear. FlagLive is barely local. A lot of their articles are syndicated. They have a section called “Ask a Mexican,” where people are allowed to be racist and then the paper can respond in a way that points out how funny it is to be racist. Most importantly, though, is that FlagLive operates out of the Arizona Daily Sun office, the major News newspaper in the area. This, of course, takes care of their funding, advertising, and printing. The Noise is independently owned, funded, written, designed, and printed. Those who run the paper, seek out advertising. Stories are written by members of the community, therefore, reflecting issues that every day Joes in town can relate to. Everything in the Noise and everything that makes The Noise possible is local and wouldn’t be what it is without the hard work of local people who care about local issues.

I think Frank’s main concern with band’s like Gravy is the fact that a lot of bands that play downtown sound the same, have the same audience, and musically, aren’t really doing anything unique. Generic rock bands follow a script, it seems, which is reflected in everything from they’re lyrics, to their image, to the timing of their jokes. There is nothing local about that. There are a lot of great bands in town with no venue to play in because of a shortage in all-ages venues. When there are all-ages venues, the greedy owners take all they can for themselves, make the whole event a pain in the ass, and leave virtually nothing for the bands (111 anyone?). But that’s a whole other issue. So here we have a lot of fantastic local bands, each with their own unique sound (in many cases, the music goes to support local important causes) playing in basements, kitchens, and living rooms…..and generic bands that all sound the same, get mullah for playing in bars, and we’re supposed to believe they’re representing the local music seen?

The point is: Heinsius’s article was just lip service. He talked more about how stupid Frank is for spelling “The Byrds” with an “i” instead of a “y.” Heinsius and his generic, syndicated newspaper, made for fans of generic crappy music, simply don’t have a clue when it comes to what is local and what is meaningful.

Frank pointed out The Byrds when describing the sound of Gravy. This isn’t to say the Byrds weren’t good or influential; it is, rather, a commentary on the fact that The Byrd’s were popular decades ago and if the music your town is producing sounds the same as the music thirty years ago, then that’s a problem. What if I started a band that sounded exactly like Pink Floyd. It wouldn’t work. Of course Pink Floyd was good at the time, but good music, produced by individually creative people—reflecting their time and location—will have it’s own unique sound. Most of all, the continuity it will bring will reflect a true local spirit.

There was a quote that I thought was striking and reflective of the mindset we’re up against here: “we who live in Flag don’t need much to get by, we’re a simple breed. We don’t need much, that is, except for each other.” I don’t think Heinsius really lives here. If he did, he would notice that Flagstaff is deeply, intensely divided by race and class. He would also notice the ½ million-dollar mansions and golf courses sproling further and further into the wilderness just a few miles from trailer homes and bungalows. He would notice the homeless who are arrested for sleeping. This whole “we’re a simple breed” mantra is reflective of the bubble in which Flagstaff’s elite reside. Speak for yourself; I happen to consider myself a complex individual with needs, desires, thoughts, and feelings that are unique to me. There are, I think, two major categories in which “local” is understood: One is an illusion, a fallacy, a lie that people living in the bubble tell themselves their community should be like. They fit their expectations of Flagstaff to suite their ideal perception, thus ignoring reality. The other perception of “local” is derived from the people, what the people are into, what the people create, and how these creations make this town unlike any other.

Another quote: “And so, I challenge everyone who reads these pages to become voracious cultural advocates for this town.” To me, being an advocate is not synonymous with supporting everything in town simply because it was produced here. I will advocate, however, that people not let a corporate arts magazine define who “we” are. If you and your other “simple breed” friends want to listen to “simple breed” music and believe you are supporting locality, that’s your choice. I will not advocate, nor be a part of your illusion.

At the end of the article, Heinsius expressed grief towards the imminent closing of Gopher Records. I do appreciate that. What kind of collage town doesn’t have their own independent record store? It is sad, but also very reflective of the way Flagstaff is moving. Independently owned shops are closing and corporate shops are taking their place. If this trend continues, there will be nothing, except the people, that make this town different from any other. Heinsius also mentioned the possibility of a Starbucks moving downtown. I have faith in the people of this town…I have faith that bricks would fly through the windows of that place before it were even open. You can’t support local music, businesses, or spirit if you aren’t willing to support them for their individuality and contribution. Generic bands like Gravy denude this town’s cultural significance in the same way that a downtown Starbucks would. I understand that Gravy’s music represents a genre that fills a niche in this town, but that niche just seems to be getting bigger and bigger, leaving no room for everybody else. Your sentiments reinforce the notion that there is no room for dissenting voices: speak badly about anything in town and your not supporting locality. What’s the difference between that and the idea that if I don’t support the war, I’m anti-American? Break though the bubble, Heinsius. This town is bigger and more culturally diverse than you could possibly know.

Or, why don’t you just write more about R. Kelly, because he deeply affects my life here in Flagstaff 2007.

From Flagstaff Activist Network (check out their new site!)

Comments are needed right away to help stop a huge grab at some of the last Remaining Old Growth trees in Arizona. Tell the Forest Service to ditch the whole project.

The North Kaibab Ranger District is hoping to open the North Kaibab National Forest in the area of last summer’s Warm Fire to “salvage logging.” This sensitive region, which is in close proximity to the Grand Canyon National Park, ought to be permitted a natural restoration rather than an unjustified and destructive logging project. The Forest Service decided to let the fire burn naturally as a tool for wild land restoration and quickly lost control of the fire. Now they would like to “address restoration needs” by turning this area over to logging interests in order to “recover the economic value from the burned timber.” This irresponsible proposal allows for the removal of 84.5 million board feet on over 9,000 acres of forest.

With the exception of hazard tree removal adjacent to roads and structures for legitimate public safety goals, there is no ecological recovery value to be obtained by salvage logging in the Warm Fire area. In fact, there is a substantial body of scientific evidence to indicate that salvage logging impedes recovery goals, and is counterproductive to the Forest Service’s work to stabilize the area, lessen the risk from flooding and erosion, and prevent the invasion of noxious weeds.

The North Kaibab Ranger District is seeking public comment on this issue.

Take Action: Comments needed by January 26, 2007.

You can do this through the FAN website.

Early December:

A former National Park Service employee hell-bent on getting motorcycles off the lower slopes of the San Francisco Peaks is waging battle with a bulldozer and a chainsaw.

Activist J.D. Protiva is taking Coconino National Forest rangers on tours of the trees he’s logged without permits and areas he’s closed without permission, begging to be tried in court on all counts.

He is trying to protect the Mexican spotted owl from motorcycle noise by closing a trail. The Coconino National Forest’s wildlife specialists lack data on whether the noise bothers the birds.

The county attorney building a case against Protiva calls him “our own live Edward Abbey” — complete with monkey-wrenching.

More recently:

Protester J.D. Protiva arrived in federal court in Flagstaff on Tuesday to hear six charges against him, including illegal construction in the forest, illegally logging trees, damage to trees and harming the forest by using a small bulldozer off-road.

He is facing up to three years in prison and fines of up to $30,000 if found guilty on each of the six federal counts and sentences him to the maximum penalty.

most recently:

Protiva told Coconino National Forest law enforcement officers he put up cables, built berms and logged trees in an attempt to keep motorcycles away from Mexican spotted owl habitat.

One motorcycling duo noticed one of the cables before hitting it. They stopped and took the cable down.

Protiva would face five to 15 years in prison if convicted on the aggravated assault charge alone.

He has yet to be tried on federal charges in connection with a case of illegal construction in the forest and illegal logging. Those charges could add up to three years in prison and $30,000 in fines if he’s found guilty on all counts.

The Coconino County Attorney’s Office also charged Protiva with threatening and intimidating on Dec. 14.

Trials will not start until next year.

Protiva has said he was closing a trail he viewed as illegal. He views this trial as an opportunity to prove the Forest Service is not sufficiently protecting its land as legally required.

The district ranger for the Coconino National Forest has called the trail legal but unauthorized.

I’m assuming these are the guys Protiva is also taking a stand against. Frankly, I think he has a point. I go hiking and camping a lot and I hate running into motorcyclists and four-wheelers. As soon as they buzz by me on the trail, I know there isn’t a chance in hell that I’ll see any elk or deer. Granted I ride my bike in the woods but there is very little to compare here. Motorcycles are loud, inefficient, smelly vehicles that tear up the countryside and ruin the experience of nature for others.

This video is the kind of shit I’m talking about. The question becomes: what does the natural world mean to you if this is how you see it?

Sithe Global & DPA are proposing to build the Desert Rock power plant, a 1,500 MW Coal Fired plant in the Four Corners area on the Navajo Reservation. This is an area already polluted by 2 other major coal power plants. Local Navajo residence and community members oppose this project for many harmful reasons!! This Desert Rock power plant is still in the environmental review process and has NOT yet been permitted.

However, Desert Rock company trucks have began moving onto the backyard of Alice Gilmore, an elderly navajo woman, and her family on wednesday to begin drilling efforts. Desert Rock officials and police have not shown any documents or permits to the local residents stating their purpose or permission to be there. Dine supporters and community members have joined Alice and her family to blockade the road. They are elderly women and youth, and they have been camped out on the road over night since Tuesday! Desert Rock trucks have repeatedly rushed them and have almost run-over people a number of times as they attempt to get by. Desert Rock power company is violating the lease rights of the local Navajo residences and is harassing elderly Navajo women and youth! This is an urgent time and support is needed!!!

more info!