78 



(April 24, 1995) A bomb goes off at my office killing my boss and friend, Gil Munay. I 

 seem to haive lost the heart to fight for our commimity. Nothing I have done for the last four years 

 seems to have made a difference. My trust in government and society as a whole is weakened. You 

 used the Oklahoma Bombing to attadc right wing political groups. You never mention the 

 Unabomber. Vice President Gore doesn't call this time. 



(Summer 1995) Where did I go wrong, was it believing in the promises of a president? 

 Could I have done more? Eveiything is beginning to unravel. With the exception of some local 

 groups that came together to seek solutions through consensus, like the Quincy Library Group and the 

 Trinity River CRIKfP. everyone seems to be going bade to war. I wonder if you realize what an 

 opportunity you had to heal old wounds. Instead, all hope is £ading for the fiiture of towns like 

 I^^ork. I stm get calls late at night from peq>le not knowing how they will make it through the 

 winter, wanting to know if they should stick it out, if there is any hope that things will change. For 

 the first time in my life, I have no hope. 



(Fall 1995) I am offered a job at the Timber Producers Association of Michigan and 

 Wisconsin in Rhinelander, Wisconsin. We are not making it in California. The work just isn't there. 

 How can I leave my home and family to start over in a strange land miles fix>m home? How can I ask 

 nQT femily to give more than they've already given? 



(Winter 1995-1996) Wisconsin experienced the coldest winter in 50 years but we survive it 

 I love my job, but suffer as I see my family longing for the friends they love so much. I dream of the 

 South Fork mountains, the river so clean and cold, the hot sunmier sun and the soimd of the wind 

 through the trees. We survive but our hearts ache. 



(February 1996) I receive a call from a close friend. She tells me that the mill in Hayfork is 

 closing. I sit in the living room with the lights out, looking at the frozen whiteness that surrounds 

 me. The landscape looks tike how my heart feels, barren and cold, a great white void. I can't allow 

 myself to think of the pain my community is experiencing. How will they cope with the reality that 

 their way of life is gone forever? I wonder, do you know and do you care? 



(March 1996) I read a press release where you say that the salvage rider is undermining the 

 healing process that Option 9 had produced. Do you actually believe this? Do you remember the 

 workers whose wounds weren't healed, whose pain and loss was simply swept aside? Do you 

 remember Elizabeth Bailey and the promises you made? Or do you think she has healed? Do you 

 have the courage to meet her &ce to &ce now? 



One of the first things I did when I became involved with forestry issues was an interview 

 with Chris Bowman for the Sacramento Bee . He said, "Nadine, your stoiy would make a great movie- 

 of-the-wedc, but you would have to die at the end" I doubt very much if my husband and son will stay 

 in the Lake States. They dream of the mountains and the tall trees and the sound of the wind in the 

 'canyon too much. So in the end, with my £umly scattered like leaves, a part of me has died All I 

 wanted was to keq> our community together. When that hope died, I guess a part of me did too. 

 Maybe it's time to make that movie now. 



Sincerely, 



Nadine Bailey 



Former Resident of Hayfork, California 



