Elected through Terror

Untitled Part 53

As far as our Office was concerned, concerning the Rajneesh, much of our work had been completed.

I will be discussing how WCSO was involved with the Rajneesh through the next few years starting with their returning the City of Antelope back over to the citizens.

The ranch was pretty much abandoned in early December; snow was falling as I headed south to Antelope. After I was done there I figured I would take a drive down to the Ranch.

Just the night before that trip I received a phone call, at home, from a long-time resident of Antelope. The Rajneesh had been trying to get some of the town's people to accept a seat on the City Council. No one would agree to an appointment.

The Rajneesh had shut down the ranch and now were leaving Antelope. They said they wanted to give the community back to the residents and had actually put back up the road signs they had removed a few years earlier.

When they took over the town, they had named all the streets for different people, like Buddha – names that the Rajneesh valued. It was also a form of harassment and a show of contempt for the local citizens. Now the streets were back to their old names.

The caller had asked me to come down and take possession of all the paperwork and the firearms that were in the City Hall. They wanted them taken into safe keeping.

The locals didn't trust the Rajneesh. They didn't know if they had done some things that could come back on the City and them personally if they voluntarily accepted an appointment from the Rajneesh city council.

If the Rajneesh had the locals didn't want to be caught in the middle by being appointed to the council by the Rajneesh. They were afraid any fines or penalties might attach to them.

There is a process, in Oregon, if a City loses all its city council. The citizens request the County Commission appoint a Mayor who will then appoint a councilman and then the two would appoint a third and so it would go until all positions were filled.

Antelope had a 5 person council, which sounds like a lot for such a small – 26 to 40 – person population, but that is what the charter required.

The Mayor had announced to the media that the then council members would all resign their positions on the day I was asked to be there. The meeting was scheduled for that morning, if I recall correctly either 0900 or 1000.

They held their meetings in the basement of the Antelope school house.

The meeting room was packed out by local citizens, not just the city people but many of the local ranchers also came.

In the ranching world of South Wasco County these ranchers were all neighbors, knew each other, helped each other out in times of troubles and supported each other as they ran their ranches.

There nearest neighbor could be 15 miles up the road, but they were all neighbors if they lived anywhere down there.

These ranchers included a big burly man named John Conroy. John was in his 60's, I would guess, and was as thick as he was wide; he stood about 5'10." In the old days of football he would have been a great fullback – they powered through the line and boy did a team have a difficult time pulling down. They were called fire plugs – and it fit him.

He was an Eastern Oregon Rancher, solid as they came and didn't talk much and didn't mince words when he did talk.

John's cattle ranch was off Bake Oven road, a county road that ran between Maupin (and the 197 Highway) to just south of Shaniko (and Highway 97.) His ranch was about 30 – 35 miles from Antelope.

John had been a County Commissioner and he was also a Budget Committee member for the county – that is where I had met him.

Like most ranches in that part of the county his was large, several thousand acres. He also rented BLM land adjacent to his for additional cattle grazing pastures. The land was rugged and much like the Big Muddy, lots of sagebrush, juniper and bunch grass which fed the cattle in the field.

He had hay fields and pastures mixed in, but the bulk of the property would be considered barren. Lush greenery requires water as well as a soil to produce it. This area of the county didn't have much water and it was desert sand, so would have taken a lot to improve it.

He lived a few miles down his private drive way off Bake Oven Road.

He was a character. During one of the Budget Meetings I was coming in to present our Budget to the committee. Just ahead of me was the County trapper who was in charge of predator control.

His job was basically to trap and kill coyotes before they attacked the livestock – most of his work took place in south county, since that is where the problem needed to be addressed. He didn't have a large budget and it was just there to supplement the work.

Coyotes can kill young caves and lambs. Livestock ranchers will tell you that they will grab hold of one and rip it open, and then go to the next one, without eating the first. But it isn't just the livestock that are in danger.

The Committee chairman was a Cherry grower whose orchards were close in to The Dalles. As the presentation of the trapper was concluded, the chairman said he didn't understand why we needed to have coyotes killed.

He then went on about how those coyotes around his orchards were considered pets. They were friendly critters who had a beautiful voice as they sung to the moon. He was making a big deal about how nice they were; and you could see John getting red in the face - he was about ready to explode.

The chairman was pulling his leg. He looked over at John and said, "But then I didn't have my wife's pet dog grabbed off the back porch by a coyote, either." They approved the trapper's budget.

Then it came time for me to present the Sheriff's Budget. As I was talking the noon fire alarm went off. John looked at his watch and said, 'Oh, it's 1100."

I said, "No, it is 1200, John, that was the noon whistle."

Like most ranchers he didn't much care for Day-light Savings time and left his watch on standard times – the cattle didn't recognize the hour change, so he didn't either.

He looked at me and smiled, "So your noon whistle goes off at 1100, huh?" He had gotten me hook, line and sinker.

I got back at him later, though.