L.A.
water wars deprive California valley
Jamie Rowe
Ah, good old bottled water. Citizens of Southern California just guzzle the stuff,
almost as much as they guzzle gas. But do any of us ever stop to think where
that water comes from?
OK, so Evian comes from the French Alps, but with a name like that, how could
we not guess? According to its Web site, Dasani comes from local water supplies
but is specially filtered. Personally, I’d like to see just how special
this process really is. But the most popular bottled water I’ve seen on
campus is Crystal Geyser. It’s bottled in Olancha, Calif.
Oh, you don’t know where that is? Well I do.
Many of you skiers and snowboarders should as well; the plant is next to Highway
395 on the way to Mammoth Mountain, the famed ski resort.
As a child of the Owens Valley, I always think it’s hilarious to see the
pretty little blonde girls in their short ruffled skirts and giant Ugg boots
knocking back bottle after bottle of Crystal Geyser. I giggle to myself as I
think of how that’s the stuff I shower in when I visit my parents in Bishop,
Calif.
It’s also hilarious when I tell people I’ve swam in their water supply.
A favorite summer activity of teenagers is to float the river, which incidentally
feeds into the aqueduct that brings water to the Los Angeles area.
My point about thinking about the source of water is a historical lesson for
Southern California residents. In September 1904, two men arrived in the Owens
Valley: former Los Angeles Mayor Fred Eaton and the chief of the Los Angeles
Water Department, William Mulholland. After this inspirational trip, Mulholland
would later go on to create the Los Angeles aqueduct to bring water from the
Owens Valley to the inhabitants of Los Angeles. This project allowed the dry,
desert town of L.A. to blossom into a bustling city of millions. But the project
also destroyed much of the farmland, cattle ranches and orchards Owens Valley
residents had created over several generations through hard work and ingenuity,
according to Margaret Leslie Davis in her book, “Rivers in the Desert.”
The Valley residents, both then and now, resent this theft of water. I once heard
the orchards and farmlands rivaled those found in Central California, and even
at times produced more apples than anywhere else in the state. Residents of Keeler,
Calif. certainly resent Mulholland and the aqueduct, and for good reason.
The aqueduct diverted the Owens River, leaving Owens Lake without a regenerative
source. The lake’s waters evaporated, thus the Owens Dry Lake was born
and became a huge pollution problem with dust plumes whipping tiny particles
around. Still to this day, the dust is so fine it gets into everything, including
the lungs of Keeler’s inhabitants.
Sure, D.W.P. is trying to fix the problem now by refilling the lake, but life
in the Valley will never be what it once was or what it could have been. Keeler
was once a center of trade, but now not even 100 people live there. Some valley
residents are grateful the department owns so much of the land and keeps it in
a more natural state. They fear without that control the area would have become
a major metropolitan area. Whether they are right or not we’ll never know
because the Valley was never allowed to come to fruition.
In the 1920s this resentment boiled over when armed citizens from Bishop took
over the Alabama Gate spillway, opened the gates and let hundreds of thousands
of gallons of water spill onto the desert, according to Davis. The standoff,
which started as a picnic with the men and their families, grew into a huge camping
trip and became something sensational for newspapers nationwide to cover.
Los Angeles residents felt sympathy for the poor, backwater valley folk, but
all the while keep drinking the valley’s water. A year after this takeover,
terrorists from the Valley began dynamiting sections of the aqueduct. No matter
what Mulholland did to prevent attacks, the residents would figure out his scheme
and up the ante. Once Angelenos realized their very existence was threatened,
they stopped seeing the Valley’s residents as quaint country folk fighting
for their rights.
Thankfully, today’s Owens Valley residents aren’t as hostile. They
simply refer to people from L.A. as “flatlanders” and complain about
how they don’t know how to drive. They mock L.A. styles of clothing and
Angelenos’ inability to understand that the Owens Valley nook of the world
is a minimum of four hours from anything. They know Angelenos are ignorant to
the strange idea that pigs can be pets and how valley folk can manage without
a mall.
Sure, the tourism industry is booming in the Valley, but when it boils down to
it, it’s nicer not having a bunch of sport utility vehicles trying to make
a left-hand turn from the fast lane of the oncoming traffic (I realize there
is snow on the road and you can’t see the lines, but wouldn’t it
make sense to line up with the left turn arrow? I’m just sayin’).
While I’m sure this article ruffled many of your feathers, I’m also
aware many of you who have traveled to my home town mock us just as much, whether
for our lack of knowledge on the current music scene or fashion styles, or just
for knowing the right recipe for the dove we shot this season. If nothing else,
just be thankful for that bottle of water you carry everywhere and the stuff
that comes out of the tap.
Jamie Rowe is a senior journalism major and the editor in chief of the Daily
Forty-Niner.
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