JOHN DAY, Oregon — As hail pounds the concrete outside, more than 200 people cram into an Elks Lodge — replete with wood paneling and a smoky bar in the rear — to see Judge Laura Pryor, the chairwoman of the Gilliam County Commission and one of the rural West’s most outspoken champions. With her long, manicured nails wrapped around a microphone, Prior tells the crowd of eastern Oregonians how to make their voices heard in the state capitol in Salem, about 250 miles west of here.
Although the arid sagebrush landscape east
of the Cascade Mountains makes up more than two-thirds of the
state, it’s lonely country. Eastern Oregon holds only 12 of
the 91 legislative seats. Frequently, state policies that may be
good for the majority of Oregonians — such as requiring all
new roads to meet Portland’s engineering standards —
create huge logistical headaches for small eastern communities.
In response, Pryor has led the charge to create the
Eastern Oregon Rural Alliance, a nonprofit organization that aims
to unite local governments, educators, ranchers, farmers and
business owners. The group plans to create proposals for state laws
that help rural communities. Eventually, it hopes to influence
federal policies as well.
Since early 2003, more than 90
people have joined and attended bimonthly meetings like this one.
Starting next year, the group hopes to convince legislators to
introduce 13 bills, addressing everything from the cost of health
insurance to logging on public lands. These bills, says Pryor,
would create a "framework that fits us and wasn’t built for
Laura Pryor grew up in San Diego County,
Calif., where she rode her horse to school until second grade. As
that rural landscape was developed and paved, Pryor decided she
wanted her four children to have a less urban upbringing, so she
moved to Oregon. That was more than 30 years ago.
stint at the state Department of Economic Development, she met a
third-generation wheat farmer from eastern Oregon, married him and
moved to his hometown of Condon, pop. 750. Within two years, the
governor appointed her to fill a vacant seat on the county
commission. Gilliam County is one of seven in the state that give
the title "county judge" and some judicial functions to the chair
of the county commission. Three elections later, Pryor has logged
17 consecutive years as Judge Laura.
During her tenure,
Pryor has watched the steady decline of eastern Oregon’s
traditional economies, such as wheat growing and logging. In 1981,
she says, there were 357 wheat growers in Gilliam County; in recent
years, as Australia nabbed much of the Pacific Rim wheat market,
the number dropped to 56. "We saw businesses go out right and
left," says Pryor.
After years of meetings with other
county commissioners in which they would "just sit around and
complain," she says it became clear that they needed a new tool.
And so the alliance was born. So far, it has focused on issues its
members believe are holding rural communities back, such as poor
education, lack of good transportation, and strict land-use
regulations (HCN, 11/25/02: Planning’s poster child grows
Although the alliance wants to ease state land-use
restrictions in rural areas and increase local loggers’
access to trees on public lands, Pryor is quick to say that the
group is not just trying to recreate the glory days of the
extractive industries. Her county hopes to revive its wheat
industry by looking for new domestic markets, while neighboring
counties are focusing on tourism and telecommunications. Pryor
would also like to see the governor organize small-business
recruitment "missions" to cities such as Los Angeles and Seattle.
Though businesses are often concerned about the limited
labor pool in rural areas, Pryor points to a large landfill that
opened in Gilliam County in 1990. The landfill needed 120
employees; 400 people applied, including many local people who had
moved away, but wanted to return. "It’s not true that
everyone wants to live in a metropolitan area," says Pryor. "Our
kids just don’t have a way to stay."
officials are already paying attention to the alliance: At the John
Day meeting in late April, Gov. Ted Kulongoski, a Democrat, is in
attendance. He announces the creation of the West’s first
Office of Rural Policy, which will examine how new state laws
affect small communities. Housed in the Governor’s Office,
the director will work with a 14-member rural policy advisory
Speculating on how the office came into existence,
someone in the crowd shouts to Kulongoski that Pryor "kept pulling
on your suspenders." The room erupts with applause and laughter,
and the governor readily agrees. "This wouldn’t have happened
without Judge Laura Pryor," he says. "She is one of the most
persistent people I have ever run into."
highways or basic phone and Internet infrastructure in many places,
it is a constant challenge to organize and motivate an aging and
isolated population. And the Alliance’s plans to loosen
land-use restrictions and increase logging are likely to meet
resistance from environmental groups.
Andy Kerr, a
longtime Oregon environmental activist, greets Judge Laura’s
ideas with skepticism. "If you’re 50 miles from an interstate
highway, you’re dead," he says. "You can change land-use
codes to build a factory, but who wants to build there? You can
gain access to more timber, but the economic tide has shifted."
Even so, Pryor says, the effort is worth it. "The bigger
our urban areas get, the more the major systems that run our
society begin to break down," she says. "The hope we have for
quality of life in Oregon lies in the health of our smaller