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Mark Freeman's Commentary Greer makes sacrifice for the good of ODFW When Jim Greer took a promotion 3� years ago as director of the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife, he thought he was opening a door into the brave new world of resource management. But that door actually led into a dark box that would eventually squeeze him until he cried uncle. A wildlife biologist and ODFW lifer, Greer quickly found himself immersed in the volatile dungeon of fisheries politics. There, any change in the climate of protecting wild salmon and steelhead was greeted somehow, somewhere, with anger and resentment. He became surrounded by competing government agencies, politicians and private interests that all wanted Greer�s ODFW to make their desires for natural-resource management come true. "When they don�t, they feel a need to take it out on an agency, on someone," Greer says. "In this case, it was me." With the box shrinking and with no corner in which to take refuge, the 49-year-old Greer opted out Monday the only way left � by resigning from the director post that had been his professional goal since joining the agency 25 years ago. Greer says he resigned because he had become a stumbling block in passing the department�s $205 million, two-year budget through the Oregon Legislature. Greer says he, and not the budget, had become the issue to a point where key legislative leaders would not be receptive to the ODFW�s budget message as long as Greer was the messenger. So the man who says he was "dedicated to a fault" to his agency sacrificed himself, in a sense, for the good of the ODFW. And he�s going out hoping whoever takes his old job will find it a little less claustrophobic because of him. "It�s disappointing, very disappointing," he says. "But maybe this will create a new atmosphere. "Change," he says, "can bring a welcomed opportunity." This change also brings a chance for the casual viewer to see how Oregon�s white-hot natural-resource debate can singe anyone and anything it passes near and burn those directly in its path. At issue is how the old world of managing Oregon�s natural resources simultaneously for protection and consumption is a tough sell in the 21st century. Oregon doesn�t have just fish anymore, but groups of wild and hatchery fish whose titles are loaded with cultural, biological and legal differences on which few people see eye to eye. As federal agencies moved to list some wild salmon and steelhead as threatened species, the ODFW has tried to steer clear of portraying their federal counterparts as the bad guys. Instead, ODFW leaders have tried � but to what degree is debatable � to solve some of the roadblocks to salmon recovery. Regardless of whether it has been successful, this approach proved vastly unpopular in some circles. And it highlights, Greer says, how the ODFW�s mission of resource conservation verses recreation "is in conflict with itself." "We did do the right thing and we�ll continue to do the right thing," Greer says. "And, yeah, I think we got the gun pointed at us for it." Sometimes, Greer has put the cross hairs on himself. Some legislators and other ODFW watchers have criticized Greer for being slow at times to grapple with problems and for reacting poorly to public relations troubles like the famous fish-clubbing video involving hatchery coho salmon at Fall Creek. Greer also wore egg over the Oregon State Police investigation in 1999 that showed how some of Greer�s top lieutenants used insider information to garner hard-to-get hunting tags. Add the constant gurgle of low in-house morale, budget battles, increases in sportsmen licenses during times of decreased opportunities and an array of unpopular decisions, and the pressure would put the squeeze on even a popular director. But Greer started on shaky ground, having risen to the directorship amid lukewarm political response. But nothing boiled more menacingly than the pending budget fight. ODFW-bashing has become one of Oregon�s more popular participatory sports. And as the new legislative session was gearing up to be a teeth-kicker, Greer sensed that some legislative leaders � he won�t name exactly who � considered him more of a problem than a solution. It was whispered more than explained, Greer says, that the agency needed a change at the top or its budget would be put into jeopardy. By late last week, Greer sensed the air in that tight box wearing dangerously thin. "It was made clear to me that the doors were closing, in terms of my ability to have discussions with key legislators over the agency�s budget and how it is going to be handled," Greer says. So Greer said good-bye to the $99,396 director�s post before it said good-bye to him. Greer believes his departure is more "because of the atmosphere" than anything he did or did not do. Time will determine his epitaph. (Staff writer Mark Freeman covers the outdoors for the Mail Tribune. Call him at 776-4470, or e-mail him at: [email protected] ) Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2000 Mail Tribune, Inc.