by Jerry Apps
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.
28
First Protestors
On 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:
Opening and operating a sand mine is a fairly complicated process involving several steps, which begins with removing trees, grass, topsoil, stones, and whatever covers the sand to be mined. Depending on the geology of the area, the sand is then scraped free or blasted to loosen it. If blasted, the material generally needs crushing to reduce the size for later handling. Once loose, it is loaded on trucks and hauled to a processing plant for washing and processing. Processing involves washing the sand as it is carried over a vibrating screen to remove fine particles. When the washing is complete, the sand is moved to a surge pile where much of the water clinging to the sand particles goes into the ground. From the surge pile, the sand goes to a dryer and is then passed through a screening operation. Once dried, the sand is further screened and sorted. Sand particles of a similar size are stored for transport to hydraulic fracturing mining sites.
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.
29
Free Wi-Fi
Well, Fred, what’d you think of it?” Fred Russo and Oscar Anderson were having their regular morning coffee discussion at the Eat Well Café.
“Think of what?” asked Fred as he took his place opposite his old friend and waited while Henrietta poured his coffee.
“What everybody is talking about this morning.”
“How am I supposed to know what people are yakking about? I’ve been home doing my chores, catching up on work that needs doin’ before one more summer slips by,” said Fred.
“The Fourth of July celebration. That’s what everybody is talking about.”
“Pretty good this year wasn’t it?” said Fred. “Except one thing I didn’t like.”
“And what would that have been?” asked Oscar, a bit put out that his old friend didn’t like everything about the celebration.
“It was the free bratwurst and beer.”
“You didn’t like the free brats and beer? What’s the matter with you? You goin’ senile on me?”
“I didn’t
say I didn’t like the brats and beer—they were both pretty darn good, too good in fact.”
“So what is your problem, Fred?”
“Problem was that they were free.”
“And please tell me how that could be a problem?” asked Oscar.
“If I had to pay for the brats and beer, I wouldn’t have eaten so many and would have downed a few less beers. Had me a bellyache and a headache when I got up this morning. Haven’t had such a thing since I was twenty years old.”
“You can remember when you were twenty years old?” asked Oscar.
“Yes, I can. In those days I may have put down a few more beers than necessary on occasion.”
“Just a few more?” Oscar was smiling.
“Yup, that’s about the sum total of it—had just such a headache this morning. Kind of refreshing to experience something when you’re in your eighties that you experienced when you were twenty. Kind of a good thing, I’d say.”
“Whatever it takes to make you happy,” said Oscar.
“What’d you think of the trick that our esteemed fire chief pulled with that old fire truck—it blowing up and catching on fire right there on Main Street?” asked Fred.
“Tell you the truth, I don’t think any of that was supposed to happen. I think that old fire truck, even with all the work the chief had done on it, was on its last tracks and it just happened to die during the parade. Chief handled it all pretty darn good, I’d say,” said Oscar.
Both men concentrated on drinking their coffee, when Fred glanced at the new little placard that sat on their table. “Free Wi-Fi,” it said. “What is this Wi-Fi?” asked Fred, “and why do you suspect it’s free?”
“Don’t have a clue what that means. Expect the Wi refers to Wisconsin—must mean something about Wisconsin is free and you can get it right here in this little restaurant,” said Oscar. “Let’s ask Henrietta, she’ll know.”
When Henrietta came by with coffee refills, Oscar said, “Henrietta, what’s this free Wi-Fi?” He pronounced each of the letters separately.
“Something new for us, people stopping by have been asking for it— especially the tourists here in town. Locals want it too. They say the only place it’s available is at the library.”
“But what is it?” asked Fred.
“Well,” Henrietta began. “Wi-Fi stands for Wireless Fidelity.” She picked up the little placard sitting on the table and read, “We are pleased to provide free high-speed access to the Internet to our customers for their computer and cell phone use.”
“Geez, Fred, we could have looked at the card and we would have known what it was,” said Oscar.
“Ain’t much for reading cards with small print. Eyes ain’t that good anymore,” said Fred. But then he added, “But I still don’t know what it is. Where do you plug into this Wi-Fi thing?”
Henrietta laughed. “You don’t plug it in, it comes through the air.”
“Come through the air, huh? Well, show me some of this Wi-Fi.”
“Fred, it probably works like the radio and the TV. You don’t see those signals coming through the air.”
Fred shook his head. “What will they think of next? Just can’t keep up with all this stuff.”
“Gotta try a little harder, Fred. Gotta try to keep up; otherwise folks will toss us old guys into the dust bins of history.”
“There you go with that highfalutin language that I’ll bet you don’t even understand,” said Fred.
“Maybe so, Fred. But at least now when somebody mentions Wi-Fi we’ll know what they’re talkin’ about.”
“Maybe you’ll know, but I still don’t understand how it works and why somebody would come here to get it like they might get a cup of coffee,” said Fred as he drained his cup and looked around to see if he might spot somebody using this Wi-Fi thing.
30
Supper Club Remodeling
Marilyn Jones had been thinking about making substantial changes to the Link Lake Supper Club. Their schedule of being open from eleven in the morning until late in the evening had been in place for as long as Marilyn had owned the supper club. Everyone had become comfortable with the schedule and it was working well.
But when Marilyn saw all the new people in town for the Fourth of July celebration and she noticed the steadily increased use of the bike trail on the former Chicago and Northwestern Railroad right of way, she began thinking. She wondered if she was missing a bunch of business from people who were not likely to stick around for a good meal and the view of the lake, but merely wanted to stop for a cup of coffee, a fruit smoothie, a protein bar, or perhaps some pastry before they continued on their way along the bike trail. When she heard that the Eat Well Café had added free Wi-Fi and it was attracting an increasing number of bike riders, she made up her mind. She called a meeting of her chef, Jonathon Frederick, and her waitresses.
“You all know how much I appreciate your hard work and dedication to the Link Lake Supper Club. We are doing well, but we can do better. I’ve got some ideas for some changes, as everyone in business says, ‘Unless you keep up with the times, you go backward.’ We’ve been fortunate, especially since the recession, to increase our business a little. But I have an idea that will increase our business a lot and at the same time bring us up to date with the world.”
Jonathon wondered what she was talking about. She hadn’t mentioned any big changes to him and he was the one responsible for planning and preparing the food for many years.
“I believe all of you are well aware of the number of bicyclists that pedal through Link Lake every spring, summer, and fall on the bike path. That number is increasing. These folks are a market we are missing. The number of tourists coming to Link Lake has been on the increase as well— most of these folks are from the cities, where what I am suggesting is common to them. I propose we remodel part of our dining room into a coffee bar that opens at nine in the morning and is open all day, where we serve coffee, a limited selection of fresh-made pastries, and offer free Wi-Fi. That’s what folks want these days. Some coffee, a little food, and a chance to check e-mail and send messages.”
“So some of us are going to work longer hours,” said Jonathon, appearing not at all happy with what he was hearing.
“And I will make sure that everyone who works longer hours is properly compensated.”
“If I could ask,” began Jonathon, “are we doing this because the Eat Well now has free Wi-Fi and the bikers are stopping there?”
“That’s partly it. The Eat Well is really not our competition, but they surely are attracting a lot of bike riders since they began offering free Wi-Fi.”
“Well,” continued Jonathon, beginning to bristle, “I’m opposed to the idea. If we include a coffee bar with Wi-Fi, we will destroy our image as a first-class supper club with a long history and a great view.”
“Our history and view won’t change,” said Marilyn, a bit taken aback by her chef ’s comment.
“But our reputation will. And a good restaurant’s reputation is the most valuable thing it has,” huffed Jonathon.
“Perhaps,” said Marilyn, “but we still must try to keep up with the times.”
The waitstaff sat watching and listening to the exchange, not thinking it wise to express their opinions one way or another as they had to get along with both Jonathon and with Marilyn—and this discussion was shaping up as a battle between two strong personalities.
“I want you all to think about this for a few days and let me know your reactions. I’d like to start the remodeling right away so we can capture some of the late summer and fall bikers traveling through town,” said Marilyn.
“I’ll give you my thoughts right now,” said Jonathon as he pushed back in his chair and stood up. His face was red and the veins in his neck were throbbing. “I think it’s an awful idea. I quit.” He threw his apron on the table and stalked toward the door. “You’ll have to do your own damn cooking and baking—and making coffee for these yuppie bike riders that pedal
into town. Good luck with all of that.” He slammed the door when he left.
“Didn’t expect that,” Marilyn said, a bit embarrassed that her staff had to witness the confrontation between her and the supper club’s longtime and quite locally famous chef.
“I’ll talk to him when he cools off and see if I can change his mind. I hope I will have your support for my idea—I believe it’s the direction we must go if this place is to stay in business and grow into the future.” Several of the waitresses’ heads were nodding in agreement.
As it turned out, Jonathon Frederick did not return to his former position of head chef at the Link Lake Supper Club but went to work for a supper club in Willow River, at a major competitor of Marilyn’s establishment. Marilyn began advertising for a head chef, and once she began searching she learned that she should hire two of them—one to be in charge of the food for the planned coffee shop and the other, she hoped someone with a good reputation as a chef, to take over the duties for the dinner crowd that expected a better-than-average dining experience.
These staffing problems took up much of her time, so much that she had little time left to think about the new sand mining company coming to town. She didn’t have time to worry about the protesters at the park who appeared every day, rain or shine, and marched back and forth with their Stop the Mine signs.
31
Trail Marker Oak Days
Marilyn found time to meet secretly with Karl Adams, Mayor Jessup, and members of the village board to discuss further plans that Karl had for generating more community support for the sand mine due to begin operations in October.
After the Fourth of July celebration, Karl had posted on the bulletin board outside the village hall a large map of Increase Joseph Community Park showing exactly where the sand mine would be located. The plan showed how the mine would take up about half of the two-hundred-acre park, leaving the other half essentially untouched. The map did not include the Trail Marker Oak near the park entrance but did indicate the large rock outcropping that limited the access to the park and thus offered but one way in and out of the proposed mine site. Of course local people knew the park and the rock outcroppings well and knew where the special bur oak was located and realized it was in the way and would have to be taken down.
