The Great Sand Fracas of Ames County (17 page)

The Link Lake Fire Department not only had their three best and finest fire trucks in the parade, but they also entered their 1928 fire truck, which had not been driven for twenty years and had been sold for junk but not yet picked up. Volunteer Fire Chief Henry Watkins, himself a better-than-average mechanic, had spent a week of evenings working on the old truck in preparation for the parade. He assured his volunteer firefighter colleagues that the old truck was ready for one more run. He said, “I want to give this old truck that served us well one more chance to shine.”

Chief Watkins also said that he wanted to drive the old truck himself, that it would bring back some old memories for him. The old truck was purring along the parade route, having no trouble at all keeping up with the entry in front of it, the Link Lake Historical Society float. As all entries were asked to do, Chief Watkins stopped the truck in front of the reviewing stand, allowing the engine to idle. As the crowd watched and listened, Earl Wade gushed on about the old truck, about the volunteer fire department and its good work, and about how Volunteer Fire Chief Henry Watkins had spent many hours making this old relic of a truck into the fine working fire truck it is today.

Then people heard a hissing sound, barely perceptible, that turned into a low and then a louder whistle. Some of the parade watchers thought it must be part of the performance, as Chief Watkins was known for doing unexpected things at times, even being a bit of a showman. But the look on the chief 's face wasn't quite right; he wasn't smiling as was his usual demeanor but had a look of puzzlement.

Earl Wade motored on with his many words of praise for Link Lake and the support it provided its volunteer fire department. Along with the whistle, a trickle of steam lifted from the old truck's engine compartment, and it quickly turned into a gushing cloud that floated across the reviewing stand, making the judges appear as silhouettes in the cloud.

People were perplexed at what they were seeing, wondering if all of this had indeed been planned, that the fire department had come up with a special effects show to win the approval of the judges for the fire truck category. Emily Higgins was making notes. Mayor Jessup looked concerned. Marilyn Jones was trying to wave away the steam.

For an instant the gushing cloud of steam stopped and then, to the surprise of everyone, there was an enormous KABOOM that was so loud the babies in the crowd immediately began wailing and, for an instant, everything shook, including the reviewing stand. And if the explosion wasn't enough, yellow flames and heavy black smoke began pouring from the old truck's engine compartment.

Chief Watkins leaped from the machine, carrying a fire extinguisher in his hand, but the little extinguisher did little to quell the flames that were leaping ever higher. One of Link Lake's fancy new yellow fire trucks pulled out from its place in line a couple of entries to the rear of the burning truck, its siren wailing and its red lights flashing. Immediately Link Lake firefighters had the fire out. Their modern truck waited to take its former place in the parade and several Link Lake Fire Department volunteers began pushing the old fire truck down the street, but not before Chief Watkins climbed back into the truck and took charge once more, waving at the crowd as the truck slowly passed by. This time the chief had a wide grin on his face as the old truck proceeded along the parade route, now propelled by human power. The former bright red covering for the engine compartment was black and charred.

When the parade was finished, and while announcer Wade waited for the results from the judges, the Link Lake High School Marching Band entertained the audience with a medley of marches. Finally, Mayor Jessup handed a piece of paper to Earl Wade, who began announcing the winners in various categories—farm tractors, marching bands, floats, fire department entries, and so on. The winners came forward to claim their prizes and checks. Everyone eagerly wanted to know who was the grand prize winner. Which of the one hundred or so entries would walk off with the trophy for the all-around best entry in the parade?

The crowd grew silent as Wade unfolded a second sheet of paper. “On a unanimous vote, the grand prize and this beautiful trophy goes to . . .” Wade paused to add some suspense to the moment.

“The grand prize goes to the Link Lake Volunteer Fire Department's antique fire truck entry and their rather innovative way of demonstrating their abilities as firefighters.”

The crowd applauded loudly and cheered as Chief Watkins and the entire contingent of Link Lake volunteer firefighters came forward to claim their prize. It was later learned that the judges couldn't decide if the entire smoke, explosion, and fire were planned—or they just happened. They finally decided it didn't matter; it clearly was the most exciting and entertaining, as well as informative, part of the entire parade. When someone asked Chief Watkins what really had happened, he would only say, “No comment.”

Nothing the rest of the day, not even the free picnic on the lawn fronting the Link Lake Supper Club, where everyone enjoyed free beer, soft drinks, bratwurst, potato salad, and baked beans throughout the afternoon, could top the parade. Not even the fireworks shot up over the lake that evening, which by all standards were the best that anyone had ever seen in Link Lake. None of these events could top the parade and the “creativity and prowess of the Link Lake Volunteer Fire Department.”

That evening, Karl Adams returned to his cabin, put his feet up, watched the eagle cam for a few minutes to see how the little eaglets were doing, and then sat down on the little deck overlooking the lake enjoying a bottle of Spotted Cow, a beer he discovered here in Wisconsin and really liked.
All this turned out better than I thought. What a huge crowd, and I didn't hear one word mentioned about the sand mine. And to think we managed to get Emily Higgins, the mayor, and Marilyn Jones on the same platform— and agreeing on something. That's got to be a step forward
.

Karl took a long sip of his beer.

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O
n the day following the “widely successful and great fun” Fourth of July celebration, as someone described it, Marilyn Jones sat in her office at the Link Lake Supper Club. Out her window she could see several volunteers working at cleaning up the debris left over from the big event. A crew from the tent rental company was taking down the tent, and Joe Jensen, her maintenance man, janitor, and all-around handyman, was toting the big bratwurst grill back to its storage place in the shed in back of the supper club. After entertaining several thousand people on the supper club lawn the previous day, Marilyn was happy to rest and take a deep breath on this day after.

She was aware of Karl Adams's idea that if you brought people in a community together and they had a good time, some of the bitterness over a sand mine coming to their village might be put aside and perhaps even forgotten. But she wasn't at all sure about it. In her experience, when people decided they were opposed to something, it took more than a fancy parade, grilled bratwurst, free beer, and a fireworks extravaganza to change their minds.

She also was concerned about the protestors who showed up in town at the entrance to the park a few days after the newspaper announced the decision that a sand mine was on the way. Each day, a half dozen or so of them marched up and back in front of the park entrance with signs that read, “Stop the Mine!” She was quite certain that all of them came from out of town, but they still were a constant reminder to everyone in town that a mine was on the way.

Emily Higgins was thrilled with the success of the Fourth of July celebration. Her goal and that of the Link Lake Historical Society was to bring people to Link Lake so they could see what a great little village it was and what a rich history it had. She was also pleased with the wonderful turnout for the brat fry and fireworks that took place on the lawn of the Link Lake Supper Club.

Emily, of course, did not know that the Alstage Sand Mining Company had provided the money for parade expenses and prizes, as well as the entire food, beverage, and fireworks expenses. But Emily, ever suspicious, wondered where the money had come from. And Emily did not know that this was a carefully planned event to help soften the reaction of the community to sand mining and to bring a sharply divided community together.

Ambrose Adler, who had watched the parade, enjoyed the free meal, and watched the fireworks before walking back home, was also skeptical of what might be behind the event. In his many years attending Link Lake Fourth of July festivities, he had never seen one quite so well organized, so well publicized and indeed, so well attended. Ambrose had more than a sneaking suspicion that this event was a well-planned and well-financed event, likely with the Alstage Sand Mining Company pulling the strings. He had seen similar tactics used by big companies wanting to come into little communities where there was local opposition and then trying to overwhelm them with goodwill. He remembered that right here in Ames County a few years ago a company had tried to open up a big industrial hog operation over on the Tamarack River. They'd offered the community several things, including paying for a statue of a local lumberjack who'd lost his life when a log jam broke lose. Their big plans for the hog operation didn't pan out, and they pulled back their offers to the community.

Ambrose, like the rest of the community, was well aware of the out-oftown protestors showing up each day at the park carrying signs opposing the sand mine. He appreciated their passion—but he wasn't sure they were doing much to help the opposition to the project. Small-town folks aren't accustomed to out-of-town protesters in their midst. Ambrose was concerned that what they were doing might backfire in that more people would be taking the side of the village board, the Economic Development Council, and the Alstage Sand Mining Company.

Ambrose had asked Gloria to send him news articles from around the country on the topic of sand mining, and now he reviewed them carefully:

Upon finishing reading the steps in a sand mining operation, Ambrose sat back in his chair.
I wonder if the Economic Development Council and the village board would have been so quick to approve a mine in the village's park if they had known all of what I just read. What will people say when their dishes rattle and their houses shake when their new mine sets off a blast to shake loose the sand? Are they willing to have the air filled with dust so they can add a few more jobs to the area? Are they willing to put up with the constant roar of trucks hauling sand through the village? And are they willing to see the destruction of the Trail Marker Oak as a necessity for what some are calling progress?

With all of this swirling around in his mind Ambrose walked out to his garden, Ranger and Buster following closely behind. He harvested the vegetables he thought he might sell that afternoon at his roadside stand. He ate a brief lunch, napped for a half hour, then hauled the vegetables with an old wagon out to the stand, where he spent the afternoon. But he was troubled. And he wasn't feeling all that well. Getting overexcited about the coming of a sand mine to the community surely didn't help his bad heart.

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