THE MILLENIUM GROVE TREESITTING BLOCKADE ACTION. 1985.
Part 4. From July 4, 1985 to the Freddies' failed cherrypicker attack on July 20, 1985

In which the Companions of Yggdrasil celebrate the birth of the federal government, and get busted for their pains.
Transcribed from a handwritten logbook of the action kept by Ron Huber.

July 4, 1985. Afternoon. Suddenly comes Maggie and friend, and Mark Becker and wife. They join Spanky and her beau, El Madrone. Wenatchee's there too. The latter three had put up a giant LIFE banner that proved far too flimsy, plus the white painted-on letters started flaking off as the wind whipped the plastic about.

Miserable mess: it occupied lots of time and sweat and we worried El Madrone, trickster though he is, might go get caught in a tree thirty feet up and have to stay the night or worse.

There they were, and they set up more banners, having stripped away the flimsy one. Up rose an American Flag, a Closed-No Logging banner, and Earth First! banner, Laughing and happy, Mark and wife lolled near the cars, having toted a crate of supplies out of the exclusion zone.

All was well, a pleasant 4th of July summer day and....

ZAP! A Linn County sheriff's deputy appears, having skulked around from around the corner. All seven draw around him in a watchful absorbed half circle. He has the audacity, Chris Ives, deputy, does, to warn everyone not to leave or he'd bring out the cuffs!

He gestured and jigged about with nervousness, dressed like a boy scout and I watched from above through binoculars, taping my suspicions about what was happening.

Mark calls up, "Well, what should we do, Ron?" I'm secure in my nest, I say, "Walk! I don't think he's going to shoot anyone for leaving the area". This apparently discomfits Deputy Ives, and when Becker went to his car door, the deputy ordered them to accompany him to HIS car, down the road away from our little event. I shouted taking y'all away is his step toward reducing you to prisoners! But they went, all seven, around the bend to his Blazer.

A while later, I call over to them "What's it like being arrested?", for a new recruit had appeared, an elfin fellow who came cautiously through the woods. He didn't believe me about the bust at first, so I yelled my query to them and a couple of them called back. He got convinced then, split back out of the closure; he's been my CB companion since then.

Well, the cop finally took 'em all away, after backing all the way around the loop to go photograph the Beckermobile. Then gone. The busted ones come the next evening briefly; Becker got his car, Maggie and the editor showed, we joshed over the radio.

Saturday, July 6th a long slow day; smoked all my weed save what I've dropped or otherwise lost. Wrote another press release--will it reach the press? Why do I doubt it?

Anyway, slow impatient day: last night was the "big meeting" in Corvallis about the whole scene and I expected the folks back, Wenatchee at least and it took him until 7 pm to get here.

Grrrr! I want some rope, dope and hope, not necessarily in that order.

Well, got none of the above. Ric Bailey dropped off Wenatchee and sped off. Wenatchee doesn't touch herb, he's got no rope; the others are hanging out aroudn home base.

Sunday July 7, 1985 Bailey is going to come by today with reporters from KEZI, etc. I'm working on a show for them...wrote a piee to read, now to get my visuals in order. Joe and Wenatchee are here.

Midday. A US forest Service fire truck, green with tank and hoose on back growls up to beneath ame and then goes back downhill. A face, eyeglassed, peers out fo the passenger window and sez "Hey!" softly to his companion then then roll on down and out of sight.

Early afternoon. Wenatchee has driffted off to a forward observer position., Jow Becker ot of the closure contemplates a new poster for himself when he finally ascends. Now a car rolls up deposits someone whenatchee talks to whoever it is...are they coming up?

TV interview KEZI a few minutes agom went well, I think, I managing to make some major points and unearth my mad proposal that Willamette drat this and pyramid and middle asantiam timber sales for another roaded or second growth area. that may exist within Wilammet national Forest. How'll it be handled? Can't wait to hear about it,

RB seems to think I've done well, that's praise indeed!

Monday July 8, 1985. Linn County deputy comes up around mid day, prowls and splits; by then my press release was gone via Wenatchee's caspable hands. A letter off to Donna, too!

The deputy prowled and split, nosing to the top of Unit 9 and back down, slowly, barely a pause then back out. Cutter is finally up a tree, then he discovered the potency of being aerial. He stayed over night aboard Rhody's platform. Tuesday morning came, full of promise of viditors, but I, I have to say no one showed till post-noon. The EF! wagon drove up to the lower parking area on 2044, stopped briefly, then moved up the hill toward road 230 then halted. Minutes passed, I could glass it through the forest foliage, and then unbelieveably it moved on down and out of siight and hasn't returned since.

Oh yes, Deputy Dave up again,m silent as a snake with a billedcap on and khakis. I rolled over and suddenly there he was, peering up at me. He and I chatted TV proposal, Co trips, (monitoring) and no smoking! I said I had some chew, he nodded, tapped his chest pocket in fellow-tobacco-chewer affirmation.

He burned me, though; he got the No Smokies sign board and presumably the other one too and a number of papers and leaflets...What? I was plesed he had set my yes songbook on a log for me, but though I told Deputy Freeman he could leave the "trash" he'd collected (above named papers), he politely declined, saying he wanted them as souvenirs!. So gone, and its a sad passing' the stop smokey sign (Smokey Bear with a circle slash superimposed) that once graced the Cathedral Forest Action Group's office.

But Wenatchee shot some pictures of it I believe, when KEZI was about, so ...MAKE MORE.

Sunset happened, an event so fine I watched it through flipping fingers, cutting the light intensity by stroking much out, but will my retinas object?...thought I'd just heard a cardoor shut...I know I did, so let's listen...avian arias a capella...so splendid...

July 10, 1985 Wednesday morning. Awakened by a Willy pick up truck arriving, followed by a crummy, two 4X4s (Jimmys!) and a sheriff wagon. I'm the only one up. I shouted for Joe to go get help! They all get out of their rigs. Carla, Christiansen,a stumpy grizzled fellow, foreman of 4 loggers. More freddies.

Picture taking. I start taking out rope and am now fastened to three trees. Told 'em six, gotta do more! Flip them off. "That one's for you, Carla,"

They are cutting trees near Valerie's tree, and I must secure my tree's neighbors! Earth First!...

Wenatchee's tree just fell. Dern! That's the second platform that's been cut from under him because he left his tree.. The freds and cops go look at it. I think they're doing Val's tree next....Damn!

(Drawing of five people on ground watching Valery's tree fall)

Val's tree down! I bullyrag the fallers, ask where a good bar is. Sweet Home, they say, try the Bohemian Club, but don't tell them where' I'm from. I say shit, when ya gotta kick ass, yuh gotta...Chide them for cutting Val's tree, cutting down a lady's tree aint that chivalrous y'know. They laugh, say now she can "get some cock"; I tell 'em mine's big enough to reach over there across the clearing to where her platform was.

The freds got three duffels and 2 platforms so far. They watch tamely as another forest giant hits the ground.

This one's for you, Carla" I yell, mooning her as she looks up.

Hours later. They've cut down the American flag (Boo! I yelled.) and display it around the trucks. The day wears on. Its 7 pm, still no ground support...pissed, shocked and saddened by today's activities.

Where did Joe go? Thirteen hours ago he left. No sign of any help...Gads, today would have been a photographer's dream....I bellowing defiance at the freds, the platform swinging crazily as one of the trees it is tied to gets cut down, until the rope parts...Then the fucker started in on MY tree, after chuckling "You had your chance."

I hit my now-useless secondary position, one foot in the hammock, crushing my H2O container, one boot on the platform. Heart pounding, I can see him at work: tall lanky blond guy with an aluminum helmet. I yell at Dale Wilson, freddie, who stands but a few yards away from the cutter, and make the throat-cut sign then point at the faller--the message is clear, especially as I have an arm cocked with a glass coffee jar full of peanuts and corn nuts and raisins in it-- that sucker don't stop, he dies.

Wilson does nothing, just watches. The other fellers already stopped; its 1 pm -- logging over for the day! Well I don't toss the jar, for the faller has walked off. He bucks my freshly fallen neighbor then walks stiffly, self consciously to the truck, saw on his shoulder.

Thursday morning July 11, 1985. I sneak down the tree, after Valerie comes up to replace me. I explain the ropes tied off to other trees and slide down and am taken down to Eugene--court appearance!--Fuck this...I call, get a postponement...head on down to Corvallis for an overnight pitstop and then I zoom back to Millenium Grove.

Its been a rough go in my absence. Val had to stare down a nasty logger by taking the ropes I'd used to link a nearby tree to my platform and tying the neighboring tree to her neck! It work! The yarder operator got pissed, picked up a log and swung it like a baseball bat against the tree. Poor JR! They got him up the tree late last night, but his nerve abandoned him and he required a an assisted dustoff around midnight.

July 12, 1985 Friday, and I get awakened by some friendly chaps who tell me they're gonna be gravelling the road pretty soon, so be forewarned. We all laugh, they split. I heat some coffee and drink it while reading the Earth First! Journal.

Eldon, foreman of the roadbuilder crew, comes by for a chat; he sez the 'bull block' of the spar tower'll be right in my face! Good. I can screw the thing up, mebbe. Eldon wants an Earth First! hat, says he'll trade for a STIHL chainsaw hat. Hmmm...guess so. Told him to tell the truckers I can talk to them on channel 14, he says he'll tell 'em.

One hour later, a willy wagon parks in the bottom of the U shaped road through the clearcut. They're putting in stakes to guide the gravel trucks. Nasty young jerks, but fuck'em. MB and McIvy are here! Bastards gotta stop and eat breakfast out of sight and I was feeling frustrated, anxious about the upcoming spar tower-raising.

Ah, but McIvy cuts the slash like the ecoguerilla is; he brings a massive jolt of both food and materials.

July 20, 1985. Saturday morning. Tension cracks the air, as the Earth First!ers bring heavy cable and the famed "Stop the US Forest Service. Save old growth. Earth First!" banner. Mary Beth sews a chunk of rebar into the bottom of the banner. Joe walks about, Lon and El Madrone prepare for EM's ascent with spus and belt. I am the eye in the sky.

Problem. Lon's spurs are unfamiliar to El Marone. He wants to reject them, Lon fixes them up and gives him a new chunk of strapping to go round the tree. I shit and fling the bag into the clearcut across the road from me.

Ten minutes later EM climbs like a woodpecker, and I have an end of the steel cable around my branch, tied to climbing rope.

EM is remarkably passing a huge dead branch stub. HGe climbs so well, like an acrobat. I'd never do that stuff.

EM's ready uncomfortable in Lon's spurs. Lon attaches the cable to a come-along , to his climbing rope. They zing upward and EM (Scott) is ready, in pain from the new spurs slowly rounds the tree with the cable and begins hauling the banner/cable upward. No camera, nauturally, but I sketch the scene. An airplane cometh soon...

Now its up, EM rapelling down in relief. The banner's up! EM down but for the last few feet: stuck? Lon goes to help him. He shrugs off assistance. Lon went to get a strap. This is silly, mutters EM, "stuck" four feet from the ground. Now he's down. MB and Utah guy, who were sentrying the road from outside the closure, start back to camp. The sun has risen.

July 20, 1985. ATTACKED! The Freddies spring a new one on us, grunting a cherry picker up here! The big yellow and white machine was driven to below my tree.

Christensen was there with a couple cronies; Deputies Chris Ives and Big Red, Dave Freeman, Ranger Dick Olsen, and a three man logging crew.

All the veteran EF!ers are gone... Dael a visitor from Maryland, incapable of reaching car, same with Fanny.

Christenson comes up and in an attempted authoritarian voice, orders me to come down NOW. His voice cracked slightly, ruining his delivery.

Anyway, all stand around, I franticly putting on my shoes...pulling up ropes onto platform, looking for my etriers...My God, I HAVE NONE. I can't climb higher without them...prussiks

They all shot pictures and then decided to jockey in the big yellow and white cherrypicker back in, crunching over the boughs and back up against the log below.

Well then he came up, a bearded fellow with sunglasses, young, billed cap. He rose to within eight feet. We looked at each other. I standing over him on the end of my platform. We grinned at each other and then his grin passed away; he was fully extended!

"Sorry guy" I said to him, but there wasn't much else he COULD do... so back down he went, and I joshed them all, taking a swig of Southern Comfort, to the delight of the crew. The feds warned of increased fire hazard, and ordered our camp to go. So Dael, somewhat intimidated by the cops, began to lug stuff about. The truck locked its tower down and grumbled back down the road. The crew's pickup split, then a deputy. "We're going now," they said.

I hooted after them "Better luck next time!"

July 20, 1985 Mid afternoon. Christenson and Dick Olsen run a tape measure from the base of my tree to the end of their tape. Christensen dons a survey tool, announces I'm 80 feet up!

I offer them a deal: I'll buy the tree for whatever price if Willamette rescind the contract and let me buy it. The two of them actually listen.One says the trees probably no good as a peeler, what with all those spikes fucking up the grain. Asked them what it was worth, they pondered a bit and said with all that rot probably inside... no more than $250 bucks. Two hundred and fifty? I said, "Shit, I'll take it!" Told them to tell Willamette Industries' CEO Swindell I'd pay cash...told them I'd named the tree the Swindells Tree in honor of the dearly departed father of the CEO.

They split, bidding me a good day...before they left we were talking about how long the tree would last what with the girdling of Yggdrasil the logger had done on Wednesday. Just a year? I guessed. No, Christenson said, about a hundred years. Well, shit, good enough for me!

July 20, 1985 Late afternoon. Deputy Ives pulls up, parks below in the fiercely hot clearcut. He keeps his motor on, windows shut: air conditioner running. Wenatchee arrives, so does the CB Yukiko, Joe, Lee.

END OF DIARY ENTRIES. [AFTERNOTE: I wrapped the above notebook in a bag and dropped it to Joe Becker for safe keeping. Had another diary with me the freddies kept and copied, for shortly after the above entry a large telescoping crane was brought up to my tree and, after a four hour stand off, two sheriff's deputies finally wrestled me off the tree. Yggdrasil was cut down, but I saved her life anyway, with a little help from an OSU forestry lab student.

End.

Ron Huber transcription from paper diary.