Thursday, June 26, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Haunted by waters

Hope doesn't float anymore for longtime water activist Larry Paulson

By Larry Wills

It's a fine June morning, and a breeze is keeping the heat down on the patio of the Lake Mead Marina. It's a great place to sit in the shade, drink tea and watch the boats bob and the flags whip in the wind.

And from the patio you can't see the blemishes on Las Vegas' recreational showcase, the declining water quality and a lake level that's dropped 35 feet--the things that have been frustrating Larry Paulson. Sitting on the patio, Paulson contemplates failure and the hopelessness of dealing with local government.

For years, he battled the Clark County Commission and the Southern Nevada Water Authority, trying to preserve water quality and its supply. He's studied the lake since 1966 when he became director of the Lake Mead Limnological Research Center.

Now, the researcher doesn't want to be here to watch the lake biologically expire. "This battle is lost already," says Paulson, whose Las Vegas home is for sale. "We don't have the political leadership or the skill. I don't have to put up with it. I'm getting out of here."

After 37 years of defending the lake from human wastefulness, he plans to move back home to Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes.

At Lake Mead, Paulson says his efforts have stalled in all directions. "In Southern Nevada, most decisions are driven by politics and economics," he says. And those factors steamrolled over Paulson's efforts to apply science to public policy. In Southern Nevada, the two are as compatible as Easter mass and strip clubs.

In his studies of Colorado River reservoirs, he concentrated on why fisheries were collapsing, how to reduce salinity and evaporation and the treatment of sewage. Typically, after rivers are dammed, the stagnant water loses its oxygen content and game fish are replaced with "trash" fish.

But Paulson says much of this can be overcome. "Scientifically, this is all possible. But politically is where the stumbling blocks come in."

His record of losing battles with local government began in the 1970s when he criticized plans for the Advanced Wastewater Treatment Plant promoted by the Clark County Commission to remove phosphorous from the water.

"The city opposed it, saying it could be done a lot cheaper," Paulson says. "It caused a rift in the community. I suggested they put in a diffuser pipe past the intakes and expand the wetlands."

That would have been not only cheaper, but environmentally friendly. But the county said no. Now the plant isn't doing its job, Paulson says. "It's a white elephant. It's not being used to take out phosphorous."

Paulson says Las Vegas may be unique in drawing its drinking water downstream of its sewage discharge, roughly akin to brushing your teeth in the toilet.

Fast forward two decades.

In the mid-1990s, the debate over the "second straw," a second intake line from the lake, reared its ugly head. That project is still being built. "They planned a $3.3 billion water-sewer project," Paulson says. "I told them, `You don't have enough water for this.' They never blinked an eye."

He recalls that when a quarter-cent sales tax increase was placed on the ballot, the proposal looked like blackmail. "It said either vote for the sales tax or face higher water fees. It should have said, `Do you want to spend $3.3 billion for a second straw we have no water for? Are we going to restore sensible growth or are we going to grow as if we had endless resources?' They didn't dupe all of us."

Now, Paulson says, the drought is creating another con job. "They call it the all-time greatest [drought]. That really isn't true. This year, the runoff will be 70 percent of normal."

He sees conservation efforts as a ploy to allow more growth. "We're called a bunch of water wasters to support more growth," he contends. "We are encouraging growth by parasitizing the residents. In the quarter-cent sales tax, a portion of those costs should have been borne by higher connection fees [on new homes], but they put it on the residents. It's a reverse Robin Hood."

He charges that reducing the percentage of outdoor water use will help underwrite future growth. "They want more indoor use since that water is returned to Lake Mead."

The dominance of local governments by builders, contractors and engineers means that growth issues simply will not be placed into any conservation equation. "Growth is totally off the table," Paulson says.

County Commissioner Bruce Woodbury, a 22-year veteran of the board, recalls that Paulson's views were always appreciated, even when they collided with local politics. "Larry is extremely knowledgeable and has a point of view that still needs to be heard," Woodbury says. "He had a beneficial effect on the direction of the water authority."

Woodbury, however, believes the commission faces economic concerns in reining in growth. "It's difficult for government to manipulate growth," he says. "It's a tremendous challenge. The quality of life suffers. I've never been a big fan of explosive growth."

Paulson's particularly worried about the lake's future in the business-as-usual atmosphere. "We're in a period when some difficult decisions are going to have to be made," he says. "The Colorado River--that's it. That's all we have" for our local water supply. "The uses continue to increase year after year. In California, the growth is as high or higher than we have. Even in normal years, there's not enough water for Arizona, Nevada and California. There's no way we can continue to divide the water supply into finer and finer pieces."

He sees the day when states will be at each other's throats fighting over the last drop of the river. "No one is willing to give up the water. That's most fundamental."

Woodbury says that as Southern Nevada enters its fourth year of drought, Paulson's views on growth may move to the front burner. "We may get to the point where we have to consider putting some sort of slowdown or moratorium if things continue the way they are," he says. "I understand his concern and share it to some extent."

Paulson also questions claims by Las Vegas Valley Water District officials that the drinking water is safe, since he contends the testing is inadequate. "How many samples are good enough? One sample is done only four times a year. There's a high probability that things are not detected. Any chemical you put in your sink ultimately ends up in the lake."

And some effects are just not known.

"It's difficult to figure out how compounds interact," Paulson says. "In Southern Nevada, the sewage is not treated enough. Parasites and chemicals cannot be removed. The more sewage they put in the lake is relative to its volume." As the water level drops, "obviously, we'll have more effluents in the water."

Paulson served on three committees during his activist tenure in Las Vegas, all of which aimed to maintain or improve water quality. He belonged to the Southern Nevada Water Authority's Water Quality Citizens' Advisory Committee, the Las Vegas Wash Coordinating Committee and the Clark County Friends of the Desert Wetland Parks Board. He left those panels four years ago, amid longstanding frustrations.

Paulson blames the local political machine for a failure to protect the lake. "We fought by their rules and we were ignored." The local governments "sold out this community for a few greenbacks. We've compromised so much we don't have environmental protection."

Despite his setbacks, Paulson remains passionate about the lake's future. "We're in this together," he says. "Otherwise, everyone loses. Someday, people are going to rebel."

Walking to the shore, thinking about his pending move, the 57-year-old retired professor talks about his hometown of Sunburg, population 119, in the Land of Sky Blue Waters, and the great fishing around there, the walleye and northern pike. His words evoke shades of Longfellow that clash with the reality of Lake Mead's compromised waters:

"Through the clear, transparent water

He could see the fishes swimming

Through the clear, transparent water

He could see the fishes swimming

Far down in the depths below him."

Along the Lake Mead Marina walkway, schools of carp float to the surface, begging for popcorn, accompanied by emaciated striped bass. Deformed fish have been found here. Swimmers get rashes. The water is murky.

"By the shores of Gitchee Gumee,

By the shining Big Sea-Water."

The Lake Mead shoreline is a mixture of mud and gummy stuff. It looks like a half-drained bathtub that cries for a good scrubbing.

"I love walleye," Paulson says, walking to his car. "But they're tricky to catch."

We wouldn't know, Larry.