Community Notebook

The Battle of the Ashokan

Since September 11, stepped-up security at the Ashokan Reservoir, designed to ward off bioterrorism, has again inflamed the century-old conflict between the watershed bureaucrats based in New York City and Ulster County residents. And while the airlines are being transfused with $15 billion in federal assistance—and 487 small businesses at Ground Zero will receive $50 million—Mom and Pop outfits in this area remain “collateral damage” of the attacks—and no one’s bailing them out.
Within minutes of the second plane crash, the Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) locked down the Ashokan indefinitely. “Lockdown is an immediate notification to everyone that there is an immediate sense of urgent alert,” explained Robert Varieur, the Director of the DEP Police, dressed in natty threads, but speaking pure Brooklynese. Lockdown involved extending DEP police shifts and moving in surveillance equipment he was not at liberty to divulge.

All that locals saw, however, was a makeshift construction of cement barriers and traffic cones, resulting in a forced 20-mile detour around the Reservoir. Calls of protest poured into the office of Congressman Maurice Hinchey of Saugerties.

photo by Dion Ogust

It was yet another instance, local residents say, where DEP policies had steamrolled over them. In the past three years, the DEP has progressively clamped down on access to the Ashokan and its outlying area. Known as the jewel of the Catskill Water System for its magnificent views, the reservoir was a popular recreation spot for tourists and residents. But critics charge that it has been transformed into a police patrol site and speed trap.
“Anytime there’s a little bit of complication, boom—the reservoir is off-limits,” said David Kalpakis, owner of Winchell’s Pizza on Route 28 in Shokan. In the days following September 11, he saw his business drop 75 percent. Kalpakis, a voluble man with prematurely gray hair, mourns the loss of access to the local oasis. The pizza man turns poetic, describing the lake as “dazzling diamonds.”
Jeffrey Ryan, DEP spokesperson, acknowledges resident frustration. But limitations on access, he said, have followed infrastructure improvement, including repaving and guardrail installation. Heightened security measures on September 11 were carried out to ward off possible terrorist attacks. “We do the best we can. The World Trade Center doesn’t exist anymore, so there are heightened security concerns across the country, never mind in the watershed.”

But the blockade was the latest DEP move to rankle residents, who were still stewing over this summer’s Bushkill Bridge confrontation. Repair of the structure, DEP personnel initially warned, would take several months and the loss of a major access route. Although he does not acknowledge local protest, DEP’s Ryan said that plans were sped up, and a new contractor finished the job well before the original October 1 forecast. “We don’t like people to be inconvenienced,” Ryan insisted.

But inconvenience and the DEP is a familiar story, said Congressman Hinchey. “There has always been some level of conflict and concern between people who live up here and people who operate the reservoir system for the city of New York.” It dates back to 1907, when the construction of the Ashokan required the destruction of four villages and the relocation of four others. Even the dead were not spared; 40 cemeteries were closed and 2,700 bodies exhumed. The episode had the bitter taste of colonialism; the reservoir would benefit a city two hours down the Hudson, installing New York City police to ensure its safety. While some DEP commissioners have tried to be “better neighbors,” Hinchey pointed out, he has been frustrated by a lack of communication with current Commissioner Joel A. Miele.

DEP officials insisted that the blockade would serve to deter terrorists seeking to poison the entire watershed system of 600 billion gallons. But Hinchey disagreed in an October 9 press conference. “The only thing [the blockade] causes is inconvenience for local people. It certainly won’t deter a determined suicidal terrorist from getting into the reservoir.”
Meanwhile, local businesses saw customer traffic evaporate, among them the Fill’N Station, Ashokan Artisans and two newly-opened strip malls. The Tongore Cafe and Deli on Route 213 was the first to cry uncle, closing until further notice, according to a handmade sign on its front door.
Vin Martello, a local advertising agent, is a slim man with sad eyes. Unlike others, Martelllo worries that security is not stringent enough. Driving around the perimeter of the Ashokan, he was alarmed by the many holes in the fence, hastily patched over with yellow police tape. After conversations with neighbor Michele Rosenbaum, a SUNY New Paltz employee, he decided to call the DEP on the carpet. But diplomacy was key, he said; the agency has a tendency to “clam up.” At an October 9 town meeting at Olive Free Library, more than 150 people crowded the room, a startling measure of citizen concern. Six DEP officials attended, urged by Hinchey’s office. It was the first opportunity for most neighbors to confront the men whom they felt controlled their daily lives.

It was a heated first date. Martello’s agenda—the inadequacy of security—was hijacked early by merchants who felt there was no justification for the blockade. The DEP move to cancel deer hunting season on watershed land was also a sore point. In a 90-minute meeting, local pragmatism butted heads with DEP doublespeak, and words grew brittle, with Martello and Hinchey staffer Daniel Ahouse valiantly playing referee. Faced with questions on possible terrorist scenarios, DEP officials responded with generalities, unable to reveal security secrets, Varieur explained.

David Kalpakis startled neighbors by demanding to know if the DEP’s long-term goal was the removal of all merchants from the area. By evening’s end, attendees questioned the very effectiveness of DEP police. A rumor went up that someone had photographed officers on-duty, playing cards, prompting the most heated exchange of the evening. (The photo was never produced.)

Whether longtime rifts were closed that evening, Varieur would not say. “You’re not going to please everybody, as much as we tried. We tried to be frank and forthright. Everybody was not going to hear what they wanted to hear, but that’s not why we were there.”

But a taste of local temperament may have been successful. Two days later, a checkpoint stop was installed. Motorists were allowed passage if they were residents and could flash a newly-issued permit from the town of Olive.

But a checkpoint was cold comfort for merchants; tourists were being turned away from the reservoir during the height of foliage season. On October 16, the Library hosted 25 business people, still desperate about their livelihood. This meeting, organized by Shaun Kennedy of Crackerbarrel Country Store on Route 28, was conducted by Daniel Ahouse of Hinchey’s office. The goal was to ascertain what financial relief was available.

“Everyone was crying the blues,” David Kalpakis said. Since the checkpoint was installed, he said, his own business had rebounded only 50 percent. “This situation is killing us.”

While low-interest loans are available through the Small Business Administration and FEMA, local merchants are reluctant to take them and simply deepen fiscal problems, Hinchey explained. Recovery grants would give them a chance to survive in the short-term. He hopes that local merchants will have access to a portion of the $20 billion granted to New York City for recovery, earmarked by the House Appropriations Committee. But it is a race against time. This proposal will have to be made before Congress adjourns, perhaps within the next three weeks. Still, it would be months before this money comes in.

Moreover, a figure for merchant losses has to be determined. To secure the grants, “It’s going to require some heavy lifting,” Ahouse acknowledged.

The current checkpoint scenario will continue, Varieur said, employing the same omnipotent tone that fans the flames of local resentment. “[It] will remain as long as we deem necessary; we don’t know if it will be weeks, months or beyond.” A threat to the water supply, he said, still exists throughout the United States.

This offers no solace to Winchell’s Pizza’s Kalpakis, who tallies the funds in arrears he already owes to local vendors, Central Hudson and city, state and federal taxes. He predicts the closure of many Ashokan-area businesses. “You got a ghost town—that’s what’s coming up.”

—Jay Blotcher