The Great Sand Fracas of Ames County (25 page)

“Yes, yes, I do have a plan,” said Evans. “I suggest we call a general meeting and invite everyone in the community to come. We'll tell people what we know, ask the local police to say a few words about progress in catching the perpetrator or perpetrators, have both of you say a few words about the importance of a sand mine coming to Link Lake, then I'll wrap up—with the hope that we can turn a few fence-sitters toward our way of thinking.” Evans made no mention that the plan really had been Karl's. Karl stood off to the side, saying nothing.

“We'll set up the meeting for tomorrow evening, at the community room in the library,” said Marilyn, who was clearly buying into the plan. Mayor Jessup stood silently by, wringing his hands. He was still mumbling, “Nothing like this has happened in Link Lake before. Nothing like this.”

A
half hour before the start of the meeting, the Link Lake Library community room was filled to capacity. People were standing four deep behind those with chairs and people were still coming through the door.

Marilyn Jones asked the mayor to chair the meeting, but he declined and suggested Marilyn was much better at this sort of thing than he was. Mayor Jessup stood at the door, greeting people as they arrived and thanking them for coming. “Typical politician,” mumbled Fred Russo when he and Oscar Anderson arrived.

A few minutes after eight, the time set for the meeting, Marilyn Jones stood up, took the microphone, and said, “I'm Marilyn Jones, chairman of Link Lake's Economic Development Council. Welcome to this special meeting where we hope to bring you up to date on the unfortunate event that occurred yesterday in our wonderful Increase Joseph Community Park. We are all still numb from what happened. To think that someone would set off a bomb and destroy a valuable piece of equipment. I asked several people to say a few words about what happened and what will be the next steps. First, our esteemed Mayor Jon Jessup.”

Mayor Jessup took the microphone from Marilyn and, still looking a bit unnerved by all that happened in the past couple days, began speaking. “Nothing like this has ever happened in Link Lake before. Our quiet little town is simply devastated. Absolutely devastated. I'm sure you all wonder whether the bomber has been caught. So here is Officer Jimmy Barnes, who was first on the scene of the explosion and has been working on the case with the help of the Ames County Sheriff ' s Department. Officer Barnes.”

“Well, what we know is that a big machine from the Alstage Sand Mining Company blew up yesterday morning. We don't yet know for sure, but it would appear that someone or several people may have been responsible for the act. We continue to collect evidence and ask that if anyone in this audience heard anything or saw anything suspicious to call the Link Lake Police Department. Our office is devoting all its resources to apprehending the person or persons who committed this act. One more thing before I sit down. I'd like to ask Mr. Ambrose Adler to stand. I think you all know Ambrose, but I doubt that you know that he has agreed to take care of a baby eagle that was blown from its nest. We all appreciate that very much.”

A reluctant Ambrose Adler rose to his feet to a round of applause from the audience as Marilyn Jones once more took the microphone. “Let me add my thanks, Ambrose,” Marilyn said, but Ambrose knew that she really didn't mean it. He had never forgotten the role Marilyn had played in ruining his happiness with her sister, Gloria. And Marilyn had as little to do with Ambrose as possible, as she blamed him for tearing apart her family.

“Let's move on,” Marilyn continued. “We are pleased to have with us Emerson Evans from La Crosse, who is an official with the Alstage Sand Mining Company.”

Evans walked up to the podium and took the microphone.

“First I would like to introduce you to Karl Adams.” Karl stood up and held up his hand. “Some of you know Karl; many of you probably have seen him around town and wondered who he was and what he was doing. Well, Karl works for us. And it was Karl, and a considerable sum of our company's money, I might add, that helped plan and finance several of your recent community activities.”

Karl caught Emily's eye, and he immediately felt bad that his identity had to be revealed in this way, and that he had not told her the truth when he first met her. She was shaking her head in disbelief.

Oscar Anderson turned to Fred Russo and whispered, “So that's who that guy is. Wondered about that.”

Evans continued, “Our company has so much looked forward to coming to Link Lake, opening a new, modern sand mine, and, I must say, adding several high-paying jobs to the community. We, like all of you, are disappointed with what happened yesterday morning. We lost a million-dollar drilling machine, but we are not deterred. We are still planning on opening the mine in October, as we earlier announced.” Evans paused while many of those in the audience applauded.

“I know there are those who oppose a mine opening here. I understand that, but I also hope that it was not someone from the community responsible for destroying our machine. It is one thing to protest; it is quite another to destroy private property, especially property that is worth a million dollars.” Another round of applause, with nearly everyone clapping this time.

“I know many of you are concerned about the destruction of the Trail Marker Oak tree. It's unfortunate that we have to remove it, but with the unique geology of your park, there is just no other way we can move our equipment in and out and haul the sand out of the mine without removing that old tree.” Evans paused for a moment, noticing that several hands had gone up in the back of the room. Without recognizing them, he continued. “We have discussed the situation at our main office, and we have decided to do the right thing. With the lumber from that old oak tree, we will employ a craftsman to make benches, each with a brass plaque that will cite some of the history of that old tree. I don't know how many benches there will be, but there will be several and the historical society can place them around Link Lake as they choose.”

More clapping from the audience, all but the members of the Link Lake Historical Society. They sat silently.

Billy Baxter from the
Argus
was one of those who had his hand up several times to ask a question, but he was not recognized. When the meeting was over, he pushed to the front to talk with Evans. “No comment,” he said when Baxter asked him to say more about his company's plans for the sand mine in Link Lake.

42

T
he day following the big community meeting, Emily Higgins called an emergency meeting of the Link Lake Historical Society.

“All of you were at the community meeting last night and heard what the Alstage mining people had to say,” she started. “I must say I was shocked at what I heard. I was surprised to learn that Karl Adams works for the mining company. When he first came to town he stopped by the museum. He said he was interested in history, and I gave him a tour. I thought at the time that he was very nice young man. Now I think he was just trying to butter me up. I also didn't know that mining money helped with our Fourth of July and the Trail Marker Oak Days—all of that is more than a little disturbing to me. I had a feeling about what was going on, but didn't have it quite figured out.”

“That bothered me too,” said Oscar Anderson. “That mining company tried to buy us off.”

“Sure looks that way, doesn't it,” said Emily. “I've got to ask another question,” she continued. “And I want a truthful answer.”

The room became very quiet.

“Does any of you know who blew up the mining company's drilling machine?”

No response.

“I've got to know that none of the members of our historical society or the historical societies that helped us were involved with this illegal act. If a historical society member was responsible, our cause is lost. And if I hear that a historical member was the culprit, I will turn that person in myself.” Emily stood ramrod straight, the sternest look on her face that anyone had ever seen.

You could hear the old regulator clock tick as Emily waited for a reply. Fred Russo finally broke the silence. “Emily, I can't imagine anyone from our group or any other historical society would do such a thing. We're all old enough to know better—besides, I don't think any of us is smart enough to do it.”

A few people chuckled.

“Okay, then,” said Emily. “What do we do now? We surely can't continue our protest marches—I don't think the police would allow us even if we wanted to.”

“I just don't know what we can do,” someone sitting in the front row said. “Looks like no matter what we do the mining company will start digging in October. And we'll be left with a few oak benches scattered around town as reminders of the Trail Marker Oak.”

“There's got to be some action we can take,” said Emily. “This is not the time to give up. We've got to keep fighting, but let's be clear. For heaven's sake, no destruction of private property and no violence. All that does is play into the mining company's hand—they'll claim they are victims and some people will feel sorry for them.”

Oscar Anderson held up his hand.

“Oscar,” said Emily. “Do you have an idea?”

“I think this environmental writer, this Stony Field guy, could help us out. Does anybody here know how to get in touch with him, to let him know what a predicament we're in with this sand mine?”

“I surely don't know how to contact him,” Emily said. “Anybody here know how to reach him?”

Not one hand went up. Sitting in the back of the room was Ambrose Adler, who tried hard to attend all of the historical society meetings. He was the only one in the room who knew how to contact Stony Field.

W
hen Ambrose returned home that evening, he unlocked the door to his office, pulled back the chair at his desk, rolled a fresh sheet of paper into his Remington typewriter, and began typing.