The moral imperatives of John Sinclair - forest conservationist's attitudes - People

IOJ0030

Maine woodsman John Sinclair is celebrating. For a half century, he represented others' viewpoints on forest issues. Recently, he resigned all professional connections to be able finally to speak for himself. "I feel like a free man"' he says so exuberantly that color rushes to his cheeks.

And after a lifetime in the forest-management business, John Sinclair has a lot to say. Some are things that different sides in the debate over the future of the forest-in Maine and elsewhere-may not want to hear. For instance, he's against industry's large-scale commercial clearcutting and herbicide spraying, and against environmentalists' efforts to designate more and more forests as strictly wilderness.

Sinclair believes fervently in using the resources of the forest-but with a careful, even delicate, hand. He preaches that encouraging a mixed-growth forest and all-species utilization of wood resources is the only sensible way to avoid the disasters of softwood monocultures, experienced especially on southern pine plantations. Husbanding the forest over the long term is his deepest goal-not a corporate bottom line or an environmentalist campaign. Sinclair's way of thinking is not just a philosophy but a moral imperative.

On a gray, drizzly day, Sinclair is fidgeting with newfound energy in the living room of his ample cabin on Moosehead Lake, just outside Greenville, a gateway to Maine's fabled North Woods. Several months ago, he resigned from the board of directors of Seven Islands Land Company, the management firm he headed for many years for the Pingree family. At the same time, he left the board of the Boy Scouts of America's High Adventure Program, a personal hobby reflecting his keen interest in young people.

"Freedom is really a pleasure," he says as fire crackles in the big stone fireplace in the pine-paneled living room that Sinclair built himself. "I feel a lot less pressure." Despite his 70 years, he has the strong, healthy looks of an outdoorsman. His blue eyes are as clear as a mountain stream, and his thick hands hold an axe as easily as a pencil. "I'm ready to be more critical of people using the forest-the whole lot from industry to campers and hikers, and of government in Maine not moving in a positive way, not setting the policies to make the highest and best uses of our resources."

It doesn't take much talk to realize that John Sinclair is a living legend of the Maine woods, and hours can pass quickly as he describes his convictions and experiences. "The life of a woodsman involves putting in about 100,000 miles, and I've done that much two or three times"-by foot, canoe, and car-"out there," he says, pointing outside to the dark line of spruce and fir beyond the big lake. At one time, Sinclair was personally responsible for the well-being of 15 percent of the state's forest north and west of Moosehead.

For 30 years, he has also been promoting the concept of whole-tree use. He eventually helped establish Maine's new biomass industry, based on using the low-grade material usually left on the ground after logging. And way back in the 1950s, he identified New England's largest remaining tract of virgin forest on Pingree family land and was instrumental in its preservation. Since 1987, The Nature Conservancy has acquired 4,813 acres of the old-growth forest, now called Big Reed Pond Forest Reserve.

Sinclair's talent at weaving issues, from harvesting to taxation, into his stores of woods history and policy make his subjects come alive, from the "swampers" who cut logging roads to the timber baron David Pingree Jr., whose land Sinclair eventually managed for Pingree's descendants. His soothing voice has the weight of authority, experience, and reason. One might argue a point with Sinclair, but his truths come from a life that commands respect.

Richard Barringer, a former commissioner of the Maine Department of Conservation, didn't always see eye-to-eye with Sinclair, particularly on public versus private land-rights issues. Nevertheless, Barringer was profoundly affected by Sinclair. "John is the last one of a breed that doesn't exist anymore-the woodsmen who understood the forest, cared about its needs, had strong convictions, disagreed honorably, and knew how to conduct themselves as honest men," he says. "Their successors ants who have a modest competence at finances but lack a real knowledge of the woods."

Barringer sets Sinclair apart from other notable woodsmen of his generation because he is "incredibly articulate. There were times I'd go into a big forestry meeting to speak after John, and I'd think, Gee, what is there left for me to say?' "

Today Sinclair itches to speak out on current issues. He calls "reckless" the tactics of a radical environmental group, Earth First!, which has allegedly spiked old-growth trees on Pingree forestland. He wonders why in the world they would want to "hit one of the finest families and properties in the country."

He thinks the Northern Forest Lands Study (see AMERICAN FORESTS, May/June 1990), a five-state effort, is a step in the right direction because it calls for planning for the future to protect the region's 25-million-acre timber base. He approves of the study's support of tax incentives for private landowners who agree not to subdivide their lands. It also calls for introducing in school systems an educational program about the value of the forests-a move that Sinclair feels is essential if the public is to fully appreciate the forest.