Irene is not just a good student. She is one of the very best at her school, near the top of her class and hard working as they come. Under ordinary circumstances, she would be filling out applications to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Duke, Wake Forest, and other top universities. She would be competing for prestigious scholarships.

She would be visiting these campuses and talking over her options with academic counselors, comparing programs and getting a feel for what her life might be like in these different settings. It would be one of the most exciting times of her life. Having put herself in the enviable position of being able to pick and choose among excellent universities as a result of her extraordinary work and commitment to her education and future, she would have the whole world at her doorstep.

There is never again a time in person’s life quite like being 17 or 18 years old, especially for someone like Irene, a student with the potential and drive to do or be almost anything she wants to be. If the election of Barack Obama meant anything, it meant that the American Dream really does exist.

Unlike our most recent president, Obama was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth, did not have every break and advantage handed to him along the way. He came from a very poor background, but he worked hard, never letting the challenges of his childhood or the negative stereotypes about his ethnic heritage prevent him from accomplishing his goals as a student. Not only did he attend Harvard Law School, he was the first black student to ever become president of the Harvard Law Review. Now he is President of the United States. His story is an affirmation of what is possible if a person is only determined enough to succeed.

All of this stands as an inspiration then, for Irene? Well, no. In fact, it is a pill perhaps even more bitter to swallow. The one thing Irene cannot do, regardless of how hard she works or what she accomplishes in high school, regardless of how highly her teachers think of her or how bejeweled her academic record may be, is to make herself an American citizen. She cannot change the circumstances of her birth, or account for the decisions her parents made.

And what decisions are these, exactly? To come to America to find a better life? To work hard and earn a place of respect in the community? To open a restaurant and feed people? To send their children to a better school?

The issue of illegal immigration has been hotly debated, and people of good will can certainly disagree about it. Unfortunately, the debate has not always been waged by people of good will; we have all seen depressing examples of how quickly bigotry can be introduced into the equation. “Those people” are coming here to take our jobs, spreading their diseases and lowering the quality of life wherever “they” go. Yes, depressing, the ignorance and the hatred that so often goes with it.

Still, the issue remains, and it is a serious issue that must be addressed by serious people, not the louts who typically dominate public discourse with their shrill voices, sharpened to a point by the whetstone of talk radio. That’s all well and good. In the meantime, what I want to know is this: What about Irene?

Irene should be filling out applications to the best universities in the state, but she isn’t. She cannot, because while she has a grade point average that very few students can match, she does not have what even the laziest, least ambitious students all have: a social security number. Without one, she has no realistic shot at getting into any of those schools. The very best she can hope for is to get in, and then have to pay out-of-state tuition, which so far exceeds in-state tuition rates as to make it impossible to even consider, especially since she cannot compete for any scholarships.

Under ordinary circumstances, her achievements in high school would have brought her to the beginning of something bigger, perhaps much bigger. That would be up to her, because in America, as Barack Obama has proven, you can be anything if you work hard enough and believe strongly enough in yourself and your future.

But these circumstances are not ordinary, even if they are not unique. Irene may not be the only child of illegal immigrants to excel in high school, and not the only one with the potential to achieve wondrous things at our finest universities. And yet, there she is, at the door, which, for her, is locked.

Whether we agree or disagree about illegal immigration, there are fundamental questions that go much deeper than the issue itself, especially in the abstract. If an illegal immigrant appears at the hospital so badly in need of treatment that death is a real possibility, would we choose to ignore it and let him die? If a student does everything in her power to achieve the American dream, are we going to deny her the chance that any of our sons and daughters would have? Remember, even if you have little sympathy for what her parents chose to do, Irene did not make that choice.

Adversity teaches us things about ourselves, sometimes things we might just as soon not learn. In these bad economic times, when so many are suffering, it is all the more likely that anger toward illegal immigrants will be ginned up. The question is, even in tough times like these, do we really want to live in a country callous enough to say “No, you can’t” to Irene?

President Obama’s mantra before the election was “Yes, we can.” I sincerely hope Irene is part of “we” and not just another one of “those people.”

(Chris Cox is a writer and teacher who lives in Waynesville. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

By Marth Teater • Guest Columnist

The Good Samaritan Clinic of Haywood County has served the medical needs of our community since 1999. In 2007 the clinic started a mental health program funded by two multi-year grants. Funding for the program ended in 2008, and the clinic has been utilizing funds from individuals in the community to sustain the program until funds become available.

We have applied for funding from three major grantors, but even if we get those grants, funds will not be available until the summer. Without immediate funding the clinic will be hard pressed to find money to continue the program.

In 2008 the Good Samaritan Clinic provided over 1,400 therapy visits at no cost to the patients. Currently the clinic has two mental health counselors on staff. Both have master’s degrees and several years of experience. The clinic also utilizes volunteer counselors and student interns.

Clinic patients may receive up to eight individual counseling visits with one of the clinic counselors to help improve their mental and physical well-being.

We anticipate serving more than 1,680 patients in 2009. At about $100 per visit, we are providing $168,000 worth of visits per year for $50,400 since our counselors work for a much reduced rate. The savings to our community are significant.

The clinic is supported by area churches, individuals, civic groups, and grantors. Haywood County and the United Way contribute as well. This support helps the clinic to continue to provide medical services to uninsured adults in our county.

“Our general operating funds are not used for the mental health program,” said Donda Bennett, executive director for GSC. “This program operates solely on grant funding and donations.”

Although funds were applied for in early 2009 the clinic will not find out if they are being funded until early June. The only way to continue this program is to appeal to the community for emergency funds.

Current clinic counselors are Art Dosch and Sequoyah Rich. Both are master’s level practitioners with a wealth of experience and a desire to serve those in need. I am the director of mental health services and oversee the counseling program of the clinic.

The counselors work as a team with the health care providers; medical director Don Teater, MD, and Kristin Gruner, PA. This coordination of care has tremendous advantages to more traditional models of care that treat mental and physical health separately.

The clinic has the capacity to provide about 140 client visits monthly, or 1,600 annually. Providing this mental health care benefits the entire community in many ways. By keeping people emotionally stable we will see a reduction in emergency room and urgent care visits, fewer interventions needed by law enforcement, and healthier individuals and families.

To find out more about the Good Samaritan Clinic contact executive director Donda Bennett at 828.454.5487 or visit the Web site at www.gschaywood.org.

(Teater is available to discuss the mental health program at 828.454.5287, ext.1009, or by email at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. The clinic provides speaker and programs to any community group. Donations are tax deductible. To designate a donation for the mental health program note that on the check. Mail donations to Good Samaritan Clinic, 34 Sims Circle, Waynesville, N.C., 28786.)

When it comes to caring for the mentally ill in North Carolina, there’s been very little good news over the last few years. A 2001 attempt to radically reform the state’s mental health system has been, by nearly unanimous opinion, a disaster. It has wasted millions of dollars and created a system that has too little oversight of patient care, too few facilities, and too much opportunity for mismanagement at the local level.

The breadth of these problems, however, is exactly why a new psychiatric unit at Haywood Regional Medical Center that’s being praised by mental health professionals is so promising, and why it might be the model to start fixing some of what’s gone so wrong over the last several years.

The new 16-bed unit at HRMC opened in November and was paid for with a state grant that also funded another wing at another hospital. The hope was the regional units would reduce the waiting list for patients to get into a long-term bed at Broughton Hospital in Morganton. The Broughton facility is way overcrowded and has suffered its own woes. Besides, those in need of immediate psychiatric help can run into serious problems if they have to put off professional care. It became a very dangerous situation for patients when they could find no facility to check into when their problems needed medical attention.

The new unit at HRMC helps solve of these issues. For one, patients can get care closer to home, which allows more interaction with family members they trust and depend on. The new facility is run under a model that allows the patient to take part in the cure. The program allows patients to make choices about how to structure their day, similar to what life is like on the “outside,” where many of these patients will soon return to and begin taking care of themselves.

“It’s a support network that gives you the strength you don’t have outside,” a 20-year-old patient told The Smoky Mountain News.

The new center’s early success is worth noting. Doug Trantham, interim director of Smoky Mountain Mental Health, said the region has had its lowest transfer rate to Broughton in recent memory. Two other hospitals are looking at the HRMC model with an eye toward possibly replicating it. There’s also hope that the Balsam Adult Recovery Unit may re-open. It closed when the HRMC wing opened because there was only enough trained staff to operate one of the units. When that happens, there will be even more options for patients in Western North Carolina who are in need of residential mental health care.

We’ve got a long way to go before we solve the crisis confronting this state’s mental health system. But increasing the number of available local beds — and increasing the opportunity to receive the necessary treatment right here at home — is a good first step toward helping patients gain access to the kind of treatment they need.

By Brent Martin • Guest Columnist

In an article in Blue Ridge Country magazine, author and professor Steve Nash provided a bleak overview of what climate change means here in the mountains of Western North Carolina. Most significant are current predictedions for increasing temperatures, including a boost in the number of days over 90 degrees (75 a year predicted by 2080), and record drought (coupled with record intensity storms).

Changes such as these will alter the face of this ancient landscape in ways that we can hardly imagine. Iconic Appalachian creatures such as brook trout are expected to lose 50 to 90 percent of their habitat by 2080, and woodland salamanders dependent upon soil moisture could be wiped out altogether. High-elevation spruce-fir forest would also suffer. And these are but a handful of the projected impacts.

Given that climate change is now considered indisputable by every leading science organization in the world, one would think that as citizens we would be more alarmed and thus determined to make every change we can in order to reverse the momentum of this seemingly irreversible trend. Yet, according to some polls, almost half of all Americans are unsure that climate change is occurring. I suppose this is not surprising given the Bush administration’s denial of the issue for eight years, along with the limited media attention and public understanding. However, with the advent of the Obama administration, not only do we have immediate recognition of the issue but prompt action.

One of the administration’s first actions was the creation of an Office of Ecosystem Services and Markets. This office will be part of the U.S. Department of Agriculture, which includes the U.S. Forest Service and its 193 million acres of public land. The mission of this office will be to connect industrial emitters of carbon dioxide (CO2) with private landowners to plant new forests or crops to absorb their CO2 emissions. This could be a good thing for us here in Western North Carolina, where national forests make up over a million acres and private forest land totals another two million. Such incentives for forest and farmland conservation could be part of a broader agenda for our region to become agriculturally independent, to conserve our remaining working forests, and to mitigate the projected impacts of climate change.

With this “new climate” in Washington, and in anticipation of climate change impacts to our region, Warren Wilson College, The Wilderness Society, and Orion Magazine have come together to launch their first annual Headwaters Gathering March 27 to 29 at Warren Wilson. As our region is the source of drinking water for millions of downstream residents and is home to the East’s coal fields, the conference is aptly subtitled “Southern Appalachia at the Crossroads.” The conference will focus on the impacts of climate change in the region and what these impacts will mean to our economy, environment, and community well being.

Keynote speaker Herman Daly will be joined by activists Majora Carter and Winona LaDuke, retired coal miner Chuck Nelson, and renowned environmental educator David Orr. Also presenting are NOAA’s National Climatic Data Center scientist Thomas Peterson, author and activist Janisse Ray, New York Times writer Andrew Revkin, and National Wildlife Federation President Larry Schweiger.

From a town meeting with expert panelists, to intimate sessions with inspired leaders, the Headwaters Gathering will engage a broad array of citizens and inspire a new network of problem solvers. Registration and information is available at www.headwatersgathering.org.

(Brent Martin is the Southern Appalachian Director for the Wilderness Society, and his office is in Franklin. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

What a great way to earn public trust: a public body decides that minutes from closed sessions no longer need to be secret, and therefore it periodically votes to make them public.

That’s what the Franklin Town Alderman Bob Scott asked the Franklin board to do. Scott was concerned about the information in one particular set of minutes, but he also understood what he was doing. If the town adopted a formal policy, the public would be a lot better informed as to what went on behind closed doors when aldermen lawfully shut out the public from their debate.

Here’s the deal about closed meetings and public bodies. The North Carolina Open Meetings Law gives public bodies seven lawful reasons to close their discussions. Those seven reasons are clearly defined, and minutes must be kept. How detailed those minutes are depends on each group of elected officials, but it must be discernible what was being discussed and who was saying what.

Once the reason for going into the closed meeting is past — say an industry has finished negotiations and announced plans to build — then the minutes become a part of the public record.

Most boards — including Franklin’s — adhere to the letter of the law. But what becomes of those closed session minutes? Reporters and the public seldom request them. In truth, most of what took place in those meetings is never revealed despite the fact that taxpayers and voters could gain valuable insight from them.

We think Franklin should have set itself up as the most open board around. It did not change its policy, but merely formalized what’s already taking place: once every few months, its attorney will review closed session minutes and determine if they can be released. That’s OK, but the public would be better served by the policy Scott proposed.

Franklin Alderman Bob Scott is to be commended for his commitment to open government. The public and elected officials need to understand that nothing has to be discussed in closed session, that the law gives public bodies a few exceptions where they are allowed — if they choose — to go behind closed doors. Some personnel matters probably should be discussed privately, but many times it seems public bodies close their meetings when the reasons for doing so seem suspect.

Franklin’s isn’t a bad policy, but we think a better one is to formally include closed session minutes in board packets whenever the reason for closing the meeting has passed. Rather than have an attorney make the decision, we think elected officials or the manager could more easily — and cheaply — make that call. The onus for conducting the public’s business in the open is on the elected officials, and they will suffer the fallout if they wrongfully shut the door on their constituents.

“Unique” is a word much abused as a descriptor for human beings. I have heard many, many people described as unique, people who are actually a great deal more like other people than they would like us to believe. Scratch the surface of a gothic kid and underneath you’ll find someone who is most likely just as desperate to find his place and fit in as any fraternity boy. This is not a criticism — just an observation of how seldom we meet a truly unique individual, someone for whom being different is not a style, but a calling.

My friend, Terry Presnell, was a unique person. I thought he might be a poser, or simply an advanced prankster, back in high school when we were on the tennis team, and he wore a rubber Richard Nixon Halloween mask in a match against West Wilkes, our conference rival, and refused to take it off, despite the protest of his opponent and the other coach. Nothing in the rules against wearing a mask to play tennis, Terry said. He wore it, and won the match.

Terry wasn’t big on rules anyway. Rules came from institutions, as far as he was concerned, and he had great, venomous contempt for institutions — schools, churches, government, you name it. Like Huck Finn, he was afraid that institutions were out to “civilize” him, and when he looked around, he didn’t much care for what civilization had come to mean in this age — war, hypocrisy, tyranny, fighting over oil but not genocide. He didn’t want any part of that “civilization.”

For Terry, the continental United States was his Mississippi River, and he drifted all across this country, never allowing himself to become too “tied down” to any particular job. Over the years, he called me from all sorts of places — Las Vegas, Kitty Hawk, somewhere in New Mexico, the Keys in Florida. He kept as much as possible to warmer climates, with the beach as a special favorite. He took any sort of job he could find, even delivering newspapers if necessary. He basked in the sun, but he really thrived in the nightlife. Within a few days, he became a “personality” in any town he lived in, which was as natural to him as breathing, with his background in professional wrestling, radio, and gonzo journalism. He had been a columnist for several newspapers, even started his own rag in the Ozarks, which lasted for a good while until he got behind on some debts and then pulled a stunt that would prove to be the beginning of the end for him.

Terry owed some company $1,400, which may not seem like an insurmountable sum unless you don’t have it and can’t get it. He could have called his friends — we would have pitched in and got him out of a jam. But he had never taken charity from any of us, and wasn’t going to start then. So he thought of a way out. He drew up a fake death certificate, sent it to the company, and hit the road with everything he could take with him, leaving whatever was left behind.

This bad decision — which I can easily imagine Terry rationalizing as a silly prank that he would somehow make good on later — led to other bad decisions. I believe there were some counterfeit checks, identity theft, I can’t remember what all. He stayed on the run for months, but one night in Ohio he got pulled over on a routine traffic stop, and within minutes, it was all over. In some ways, it was a relief to Terry. As the bad decisions accumulated, there was just no way to keep going without making another one, to get him through the next day.

He went to prison for a few years, and we lost touch. Then, a little over a year ago, he reappeared in our hometown, about twice his normal weight, barely able to move. Prison had been hard on him. He had a variety of very serious health problems, and no real way to make a living. Some of us did what we could for him, donating furniture, a microwave, a computer, groceries, whatever he needed to get on his feet. But he couldn’t get on his feet, not in any meaningful way. Part of being Terry was being on the move, beholden to no man and no institution.

He got by in a dingy little rent-controlled apartment for about a year. I saw him whenever I got home, which was only a couple of times. We visited and reminisced and laughed a lot — he had the greatest laugh in the world. He laughed with his whole body, his shoulders literally shaking up and down if he was really amused.

The last time I saw him, right around Thanksgiving, he gave me a grocery bag packed full of movies and CDs. He said he was getting the hell out of Sparta and moving back to Hickory, a town where he probably had the most success in making a decent living and where he had become pretty well known for his column on pop culture.

Now we know the real story. He “moved” to Hickory as a launching pad for his last big adventure, a trip to Florida, where he spent the last days of his life driving around, sleeping in the car most likely, or on the beach, drinking beer, which he had not really been able to do much with his health in such poor shape. He wrote a few fond farewells to his friends, and assembled packages for a couple of people containing the most meaningful scraps of his life. Somehow, he managed to get a gun, which he used to shoot himself two weeks ago.

Another friend from the old days, Stewart, called me last week to tell me about it. Initially, there were no reports of a note, which didn’t sound like Terry. Sure enough, two days later, Stewart called me again and said he had received a package, along with a note, in which Terry basically said that with his health getting poorer by the day, he was looking at another lengthy hospital stay, dialysis, even worse. He quoted Neil Young, “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.” He said if the preachers were right, he was “probably headed South,” but he thought the company would be more interesting there anyway. He said if reincarnation turned out to be true, he might come back as a fat Chihuahua.

He said that if there was going to be a service, he wanted only for a few of his friends to get together, drink a few beers, listen to some music from the old days, and remember some of the good times. He said he absolutely did not want the service to be held in a church, or for there to be any preachers.

There was a service on Saturday, at Saddle Mountain Baptist Church in Ennice, N.C. There were preachers. One of them had talked with him a handful of times in the hospital, the other had never met him at all. I was asked to speak, too, so I got up and shared a few stories, but whatever I said was swallowed up whole by 45 minutes of pure alter call preaching. For these two fellows, Terry was not a person. He was a platform. His life had no meaning for them other than as a cautionary tale for the rest of us. At one point, the preacher said, “Since I didn’t know Terry, I asked God what to say here today, and God said, “Remember me,’” which, it turns out, is translated as a very long story about the preacher’s own salvation, and how, thank God, he had not made the choices Terry had made.

It turns out that most of the memorial service for Terry was not really for Terry after all. Several times, I thought about walking out. I wish I had. After the service, someone told me they wished I had had an opportunity for a rebuttal.

Well, here it is. I don’t presume to know where Terry is today, but if God has a sense of humor, Terry may be pleasantly surprised with his accommodations. On the other hand, those responsible for denying him his final wishes ought to be deeply ashamed. Like Huck Finn, Terry once faked his own death. Unlike Huck Finn, he did not get to watch his own funeral. If he had, he would have been outraged. I have known him for 35 years, and I can guarantee that much. He would not have been alone. I spoke with at least a dozen of his friends after the service in front of the church, and every single one of them was upset by the service. Someone said it was more like a revival than a memorial for Terry. Someone else said those preachers ought to be ashamed.

Sometime this spring, there will be another service, the one he asked for. Call it a memorial mulligan, a do over. We’re going to get together, play some of the old songs, and drink a few beers in his honor. Then we are going to divide up his ashes and take them to various beaches — wherever anyone is going on vacation this summer — and set him loose on the tide.

If I see a fat Chihuahua running loose on the shore, I swear I’ll bring it home.

(Chris Cox is a writer and teacher who lives in Waynesville. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

By Anna Fariello • Guest Columnist

OK, so I have to admit that part of the appeal of the Dillsboro/Duke battle appeals to me in the same way that David and Goliath inspired me as a child. Small-town-takes-on-giant-corporation has the makings of movie. While I am into confession, I should admit that I don’t quite get the science arguments, although I am sure there is soundness on both sides of the issue. But overall, it is my practical nature that wonders — if Duke doesn’t want this dam, why can’t Dillsboro have it? The entire battle seems ludicrous as I imagine corporate fat cats strategizing on how to take such a little dam down, plotting where to strategically plant sticks of dynamite.

When I taught in Central America almost 10 years ago, I was struck by how historically significant archeological sites lived side-by-side with spontaneous soccer matches. In this country we protect our national treasures with guided tours and admission fees. Did those ball-kicking children realize that they were in the holy presence of history? There I was sent to teach collections care and soccer was, indeed, not in the preservationist’s handbook.

As the semester progressed and I became more familiar with those sites, my initial shock gave way to an appreciation of what is commonly called “patrimonio” in Latin America. We have a comparable word in English — patrimony — but in cultures where personal property rights reign, the word does not carry the same weight of meaning. Indeed, my Webster’s definition is particularly lacking, defining patrimony as “property inherited from one’s father.” A more professional definition, and one shared by Latin America and other countries, might better define it as “property of the people,” or I should say “property of The People.”

The Dillsboro dam has been around for the better part of a century. It has only been the property of Duke Power since 1988. In the hearts and minds of many Jackson County citizens, the dam is part of their cultural landscape as sure as Cowee Mountain and the Tuckesegee. It is a sweet and picturesque spot, a place to pause and drink in the view.

Most people are familiar with the National Register of Historic Places, the federal program that designates historic buildings and sites as significant to our country’s heritage. Indeed, Dillsboro recently received such designation for the historic Monteith House, bestowing both honor to the town and making the property eligible for tax rehabilitation credits. State law also provides for lesser-known designations, those called historic landmarks and historic districts, which are more local in nature. These designations do not require the same stringent nomination process, nor do they bestow the same benefits as the National Register, but they do enable local governments and citizens to take advantage of a number of credible preservation tools.

Historic landmarks and historic districts are administered by the N. C. Office of Archives and History and governed by specific North Carolina law. Local landmarks are designations that are applied to buildings or structures that have historical, architectural, archeological, or cultural value. While designation is honor, it is also a mechanism to assist with preservation planning and cultural conservation.

The process is not particularly difficult, but state law is specific and the process must adhere to defined procedures. The first step is that the locality — county or a joint commission of county and town managers — must establish an historic preservation commission or historic landmarks commission. This is the body that investigates and designates historic landmarks or districts for the locality that it serves. The commission is created by an ordinance adopted by the local governing board. After a commission is established, the local governing board appoints its members and provides enough support for it to operate. It is the commission that has the authority to designate local landmarks and districts with the state providing guidance and recommendations.

A local historic landmark does not have to be a building. The state allows for sites and structures to be included in the process. Yes, dams are specifically named as a category of “structure.” Once a landmark or district is recommended, the state reviews the designation and makes recommendations. A public hearing must be held. Once process is complete, it is the county attorney who drafts an ordinance to declare a local landmark. Interestingly, the consent of the property owner is not required.

I have pondered the plight of Dillsboro, a town that has had to endure the abandonment of the train, one of its fondest attractions. I have read and re-read explanations of sedimentation and mitigation with a limited understanding. I’ve been proud of the steadfast determination of our local leaders (some would say stubbornness, I am sure) to keep up their fight. Some have proposed making the dam operational and, who knows, the new administration may very well provide federal incentives for this as part of President O’Bama’s efforts to create “green” jobs. The idea of the Dillsboro Dam given designation as a historic landmark is not so far-fetched as it may sound. Surprisingly, Duke Power studied the possibility for itself in 2003. The “Eligibility Study of Seven Hydroelectric Projects in the Nantahala Area, North Carolina” is on the web.

Thinking back to Panama Viejo — “Old Panama,” the archeological site mentioned at the start of this essay — I recall the crumbling stone tower that was threatened with collapse. The National Institute of Culture had mounted a campaign for its salvation, adopting the motto, “Salve Tu Tore” (Save Your Tower).

I still have the mug, given to me by students at the end of the course, with the motto that seemed to be everywhere I looked. In class, we had agreed on the importance of delivering a succinct message that would resonate with anyone regardless of their level of interest or understanding of larger interpretive issues. “Salve Tu Tore” was printed on banners in the street, on the sides of city buses, in large newspaper ads, on tote bags, and coffee mugs. While the professional in me would advise careful planning and deliberate forward motion, the little girl awestruck by the audacity of David is ready to start printing T-shirts.

(Anna Fariello is Director of the Craft Revival and From the Hands of our Elders, projects of Western Carolina University’s Hunter Library. She can be reached This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

A recent court victory by the state of North Carolina will require the Tennessee Valley Authority to reduce emissions at four coal-fired power plants close to the state line and the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Once these modifications are complete, it should substantially help clean the air we breathe every day. But we hope this decision is a tipping point in the long-term effort to force utilities, manufacturers and others to make use of the latest technologies as this country makes the move toward cleaner, smarter, and less use of polluting fossil fuels.

The TVA has long been a poster child for companies that embrace a philosophy whereby the environment always plays second fiddle to economics. Although some of its plants were modernized over the years, the utility giant also regularly relied on technicalities in the 1970 Clean Air Act to keep from meeting the law’s stated principles. Those interpretations of the law allowed TVA to modernize its plants without installing the newest pollution-control technologies.

That meant Western North Carolina and east Tennessee residents never benefited from the Clean Air Act as we should have. The dirty air from the giant coal-fired utility plants became the major contributor to dirty air that obscured mountain views, damaged trees, streams and wildlife, and led to asthma and other pulmonary-related illnesses in many residents, especially children and the elderly.

The court ruling could become very symbolic in the effort to convince other utilities and private companies to do a better job of cleaning their emissions and reducing them. North Carolina’s court case was preceded by the passage of its own Clean Smokestacks Act in 2002. North Carolina’s two utility giants — Progress Energy and Duke Energy — forged a compromise with legislators. The utilities would clean up their emissions while being allowed to slightly raise power bills to pay for the work. In other words, citizens paid to clean up their air.

The TVA ruling comes just as the Bush Administration is leaving office. That administration’s wars in the Middle East and its economic policies grabbed most of the headlines over the last eight years, but it also did little to lead with new ideas about energy and pollution. In fact, it continually sided with corporate lobbyists who argued to maintain the loopholes in the Clean Air Act.

The Obama administration is promising a different strategy. Our dependence on imported oil is seen as a foreign policy liability and our energy policy is viewed as outdated. By moving toward greener technology, smarter energy use and less reliance on coal and oil, jobs will be created and we will become the world leader in the emerging new energy industries.

North Carolina acted on its own to clean up its act, and TVA had to be ordered to do the right thing. In both cases, the right decision was made. Perhaps this victory for residents of Western North Carolina is symbolic of a new era where the flashpoint between the economy and energy doesn’t always mean sacrificing the environment. That would be a welcome change.

By Bob Scott • Guest Columnist

A municipality would never think of electing a chief of police. But in North Carolina, sheriffs are elected like a high school popularity contest. When I tell people there are no qualifications required to run for sheriff, they are amazed.

Anyone can be elected sheriff without ever having completed first grade — although it’s not likely. A sheriff does not have to complete basic law enforcement training or have any law enforcement experience. This issue has surfaced again with the incident involving Swain County Sheriff Curtis Cochran.

Media reports say Cochran has had no law enforcement experience nor has he undergone basic law enforcement training. (The Smoky Mountain News, Jan. 21-26)

It is time for counties to do away with this archaic office bound by tradition and transfer the law enforcement function to professionals hired by and answerable to a commission or other oversight body. A county could still have an elected sheriff, who would be responsible for the jail, court security and civil process. The law enforcement function would be taken over by county police headed by an appointed chief. This would take partisan politics out of the law enforcement function, bring professionalism to the office, and establish accountability to the public.

Presently, the only control county commissioners have over a sheriff is his/her budget. Otherwise, the sheriff is not answerable to anyone for four years until he/she has to answer to the public at election time. Unfortunately, without any oversight, the public is often unaware of a sheriff’s effectiveness.

One argument to keep the office of sheriff is that it is the only office mentioned in the North Carolina Constitution. However, there is no mention in the constitution of the sheriff having law enforcement powers or protecting life and property.

Just for argument’s sake, here is a sampling of requirements some small towns are requiring in current advertisements for police chiefs:

• Archdale (Pop. 9,900) Bachelor’s degree. MA preferred in criminal justice related fields, advanced law enforcement certificate, high-level supervision experience.

• Mount Gilead (Pop. 1,389) Associate’s degree and minimum of three years experience.

• Erwin (Pop. 4,770) Must have thorough knowledge of law enforcement practices, procedures, requirements and working knowledge of administrative principles, finance, accounting and computers.

Another difference between a municipal police department and a sheriff’s office is that a sheriff may swear in a deputy. This allows that deputy to carry a badge and gun with powers of arrest for a year before attending Basic Law Enforcement Training (BLET). Currently BLET is over 600 contact hours and is generally taught through the community college system. A municipality may not put a police officer on patrol with arrest powers until that officer has completed state mandated BLET. Other local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies do not give an officer power of arrest until they successfully complete required training.

It is a common practice across North Carolina for sheriffs to fire and/or demote deputies who do not actively support their election. So if a deputy disagrees with a sheriff, he can lose his job for political reasons. The Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals has upheld this draconian practice. What other law enforcement or governmental agency can be so unreasonable in dealing with employees without due process?

It is time for North Carolina counties to establish county police departments, or at the least give deputies some form of civil service job protection and a grievance procedure overseen by neutral and objective persons. Sheriffs should have to abide by the same personnel regulations as other law enforcement agencies.

Many deputies loyal to the criminal justice system have had their careers cut short because of politics. Loyalty to the sheriff is seen as more important than loyalty to the criminal justice system and the public. When sheriffs demote or fire well trained and experienced officers, the taxpayers lose as well as the officers.

Another problem with the office of sheriff is the cost of the political campaign. The public should be concerned that sheriffs, unlike police chiefs or other law enforcement officials, become obligated to campaign contributors. The sheriff’s race is often the most expensive local race.

It hasn’t been too many years ago that the law was changed to require district attorneys to be lawyers and most counties have now done away with elected coroners in favor of medical examiners. Several counties have opted for county police. So there is precedent for counties to consider a move to county police.

(Bob Scott served as Executive Officer of the Macon County Sheriff’s Office. He has degrees in criminal justice, is a graduate of the FBI National Academy and earned the Advanced Law Enforcement Certificate from the N.C. Sheriff’s Education and Training Standards Commission. He may be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

By Curtis Cochran • Guest Columnist

As sheriff of Swain County, I would like to take this opportunity to respond to your editorial dated Jan. 28 (“Questions for the high sheriff”) and, in so doing, make reference to your article of Jan. 21 (“Incident heightens tensions between county, sheriff”). Both of these pieces were based in part upon an anonymous letter received by The Smoky Mountain News. The author of this letter is apparently unknown, and your Jan. 21 article quotes the Swain County Manager as saying “it was signed with a false name.” Your article further states that it was received by Swain County Commission Chairman Glenn Jones from its original anonymous source. It was then forwarded by the Swain County Administration Offices to Swain County commissioners and various media outlets.

The letter — and portions of the resulting editorial — made a number of misleading, unfounded and blatantly untrue allegations concerning the conduct of both myself and members of my office with respect to our attempts to apprehend Jody Smallwood, a recent escapee from a Swain County Courthouse holding cell. Smallwood had previously been convicted of at least five felonies. These allegations are not only reckless but unfairly call into question the integrity and professionalism of a dedicated group of Swain County law enforcement officers who put their lives on the line on a daily basis to insure that Swain County residents have a safe place to live. Attempts by anonymous persons to question the professionalism of these selfless individuals, without acquiring a complete understanding of the facts, is patently unfair and places these professionals in an even more dangerous position than they already possess.

With respect to my conduct, let me be clear that I, at all times, acted professionally and in the interests of, and with due caution for, the public, law enforcement personnel, and Mr. Smallwood. In the first paragraph of your editorial, you state that I “fired [my] gun at an escapee....” Thereafter, in the third paragraph, you again imply that I fired at Smallwood.

This is not true. There was never a shot fired at anyone during the Smallwood pursuit. Rather, in an attempt to bring the extremely dangerous situation to a safe conclusion, I fired two shots at the rear tire of the van that Smallwood was using to elude pursuing officers. Indeed, at least one of these shots hit the tire, ultimately disabling the van and playing a part in bringing it to a stop.

This occurred after Smallwood had recklessly traveled down Main Street in Bryson City at a dangerous rate of speed, made a left on Veteran’s Boulevard and, when turning east on to U.S. 74, exceeded the 100 mph mark. Once on U.S. 74, Smallwood continued to travel on rain-soaked roads to the Hyatt Creek Exit, where he exited the freeway, lost control of the van, spun the vehicle in a 360-degree turn, regained control and continued back onto 74 East, again at a high rate of speed.

After re-entering U.S. 74, Smallwood then brought the vehicle to a stop in the road. I exited my vehicle to take him into custody. At that point, he again accelerated and, fearing that he would injure or kill innocent travelers, I fired two shots at the rear tire of the vehicle. I did this while standing on the pavement. At no time did I fire from a moving vehicle, which was alleged in the anonymous letter.

Mr. Smallwood’s conduct placed the lives of Swain County citizens and visitors in jeopardy and was an immediate threat to their health and safety. It was my firm belief, then and now, that capture of him was necessary and that discharge of my weapon in an attempt to safely do so was justified. I based this belief, in part, upon Smallwood’s criminal history, his previous attempts to elude Swain County officers and events which occurred earlier in the day.

For instance, shortly after his escape from the courthouse lockup, Smallwood approached an 81-year-old woman, requesting that she give him a ride. At that time, the lady did not know that Smallwood was an escapee. At his direction, she drove him around Bryson City. Smallwood lied to her, saying he had been in a car wreck and wanted to go to the store. He then directed her to go to the 288 Boat Ramp and, when she refused to do so, he said that he wanted to go to his sister’s house. (His sister lives in another state.)

After driving for some time, they ended up in the Watson Hollow area, where he told this lady that he could not get out the passenger side of the vehicle and asked her to let him exit from her side. She felt that something was wrong and took the keys out of the vehicle before she let him out the driver’s side. Smallwood then went into the woods and left this lady to find her way back home. The Bryson City Church of God is just over the embankment from where Smallwood left the lady. This is where he stole the van.

Significantly, this was not the first time that Smallwood led law enforcement in Swain County on a high-speed pursuit through a downtown area. Two days prior to the Monday pursuit, Smallwood led federal, state, tribal and county officers on a high-speed chase that began in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, went through downtown Cherokee, west along U.S. 74, and ended across from West Elementary School. From there, Smallwood exited the vehicle and eluded arrest for another two hours. It was at this point that he was apprehended, after running through the woods for almost a mile.

On both of these occasions, Mr. Smallwood resisted law enforcement before being taken into custody. Indeed, resisting arrest and escape is consistent with Smallwood’s past. His multi-page criminal history contains numerous felony convictions dating back to 1989. In addition, he was wanted by officials in Georgia.

It goes without saying that Mr. Smallwood’s actions placed the lives and safety of third parties in jeopardy. His actions demonstrate that he had no reservations about driving through congested areas at high rates of speed. As sworn law enforcement officers, we were, at all times, acting with the utmost care and concern for the people of this county. This matter was handled professionally and, as a result of our actions, a dangerous individual is off the streets. My job is to protect and serve the people of Swain County, and that is what I intend to do as long as I am sheriff.

In your editorial, you made reference to my lack of law enforcement experience at the time that I was elected and began serving the people of Swain County. Again, this is misleading. As sheriff, I have graduated from the Sheriff’s Leadership Institute, which was held over several months in Raleigh and at Duke University. I am continually updated on all aspects of the sheriff’s office and, as a working sheriff for over two years, I have received training and experience that can only be acquired by day-to-day, hands-on interaction with the job. In addition, as sheriff, I qualify with my weapon on the same range and schedule as every deputy in this office.

When I ran for sheriff, I presented the citizens of Swain County with my qualifications and vision. After reviewing my background, these same citizens had enough faith in me to elect me Sheriff of Swain County. I appreciate the confidence that the people have placed in me and I will never overlook the fact that I, along with my staff, are at all times public servants.

Finally, in your initial article, you published portions of the anonymous letter. While this is certainly your right, it appears contrary to your own Anonymous Source Policy. That aside, it is very easy for someone to write a letter containing libelous allegations about a public official and then fail to sign it or, worse, use someone else’s name.

As sheriff of Swain County, I have always had an open-door policy. If any member of the public wishes to speak with me concerning the actions of either myself or sheriff’s office personnel, all they have to do is come to the sheriff’s office and ask. We will show them the same high degree of courtesy, professionalism and respect that we would any other resident or visitor of Swain County. The Office of Sheriff of Swain County has always been a position of high honor and integrity. And, with respect to the last paragraph of your Jan. 28 editorial, neither I nor the sheriffs of Swain County who preceded me have ever held ourselves to be above the law which we are sworn to uphold.

(Curtis Cochran is sheriff of Swain County. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)