Conservation Northwest

15 years of Northwest Ecosystem Alliance Living on Volunteer Time Lillian Ford was office manager and then fledgling development director of the new-born NWEA. She lives with her husband and baby daughter in Venice, California, where she works as an environmental planner and "misses the rain." When I first came to GEA, in early 1992, we worked out of an old doctor's office on the third floor of the Bellingham Herald building. I sat in a glassed off reception area that we affectionately called "the cage"—Mitch's office must have been the examination room because there was a sink in it. The funky surroundings were matched by a funky staff—Mitch's tinted glasses and gold earring made him look like an extra from Starsky and Hutch; I dressed out of dumpsters and thought bras and deodorant were tools of The Man; and Evan, with his sweater vests and curly brown hair, seemed homesick for The Shire. The exception was our mapping assistant Michelle, a straightforward outdoors type who resisted the urge to slip me some of her mother's Mary Kay personal hygiene products. We relied on her and our many volunteers to give us a veneer of respectability. In fact, we relied on volunteers for just about everything. These were the days of low-budget, low-tech operations before e-mail and websites and mailing services. Our only way to reach the membership was to wedge as many volunteers as possible onto the office floor and trolley in boxes of newsletters, reams of fliers, and rolls of labels for them to piece together by hand. These smudged and crouching saints worked for little more than a thin slice of pizza, topped only with tomato sauce and green peppers since I was a vegan. No beer, only tap water from spotty plastic cups fished out of Mitch's sink. I took part in what were euphemistically called mailing "parties" but I was being paid a good salary: $12,000 a year, the most I had ever earned. But of course we weren't there for money or snacks, we were there to help the wild things and we rarely lost sight of our purpose. My first day at work, a bald eagle flew right by the window. "Wow, Mitch," I said, "do you always see eagles in Bellingham?" "Just out of this window," he said, smiling. I imagine Mitch still sees eagles out the window, but not through those funky shades. And the volunteers now, I hope, get beer with their pizza. Making Forest Protection Fashionable Tom Campion has been an activist since the late '70s when he helped appeal the Fly timber sale in the Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. Founder and president of Zumiez, a chain of teenage lifestyle clothing stores focusing on snowboarding and other self-propelled sports, Tom serves as board chair of the Alaska Wilderness League, and has served as board treasurer for NWEA since 1991. From the get-go I've passionately supported NWEA. Our approach is refreshing, presenting out-of-the-box solutions to problems. In the early years we were always broke, yet we always found the money to do the job. We never said, "we can't do it," instead taking the great leap of faith. Sure enough, supporters came out for us. Even today, we never have money sitting in the bank; we use it to fight battles strategically, reacting quickly to situations and creating new campaigns as needed. We get things done, and done well, on a very tight budget. I stay on the board because NWEA is the most effective group working on forestry issues in Washington state. NWEA is also one of the only conservation groups today working on key, transboundary issues. We are different from all Keeping the Northwest wild NWEA staff, 1994 (left to right): Mike Lolley, Evan Frost, John Klak, Susan Snetsinger, Mitch Friedman, Lillian Ford, Matt Norton, Michelle Peterson. NWEA archives "I know that, back in the office, in the rush of the average day, I often forget that my allegiance is to toothy 10-foot-tall monsters and 45-mph mountaintop winds, and not to the principles of efficient recordkeeping or professional photocopying standards. This is a shameful circumstance, but also understanable. My cultural memory tells me that the wilderness is so huge and powerful I can confidently take it for granted, I know that it will be there, at least longer than the 6:10 Fairhaven will be at the bus stop. "Nonetheless, as we go about our daily work in this airtight third-floor office and do what we can to serve the Wild with our science and our strategy, I hope the posters on the walls and some loyalty, remembered or chosen, will keep our heels dug in on the side of our oldest kin." —Lillian Ford, printed in Northwest Conservation, Fall 1993 Summer 2004 11

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