Country Club Clear Cut

"If you clear a forest you'd better pray continuously… God doesn't like a clear cut. It makes his heart turn cold, makes him wince and wonder what went wrong with his creation…"

—Janisse Ray, author of ECOLOGY OF A CRACKER CHILDHOOD

Last week the Country Club of Spartanburg began clear cutting a hundred acre parcel along Lake Forest Drive. It's one of the largest mature tracts of hardwood left along Lawson's Fork Creek close to Spartanburg's urban core. It's a green diamond against a background of development. It's a dense island of biodiversity in a sea of suburban lawns. Or at least it was.

The CCS board says it's doing nothing illegal. They own the land and Spartanburg County law allows them do anything they want with it. Are they thinking long-term about the health of the creek, the community, the region?

They don't think much about the bigger conservation picture or what might be appropriate land use practices in a flood plain. Aren't the only stake holders in this issue the men in the board room at the time of the vote? Why even ask their own membership what they would do with this large remnant of eastside wildness? The board knows best.

They've discussed everything about their property but protecting it. Conservation is not in the club's by-laws, so the board frets over whether beavers will drown some more board feet of timber. Loggers want to buy the hardwood to feed a chip mill. Sign a contract. Worry about the consequences later. They have a notion they might want a driving range across the creek from their golf course. Maybe they'll do this. Maybe they won't. All the board is dead certain about is the clear cut.

It hasn't always been this way. In 1972 a group of visionary Spartanburg eastsiders began to see the flood plain of Lawson's Fork as more than real estate deal, more than money in the pockets of a few as timber sales. Friends of the Lawson's Fork was formed that year by college professors, lawyers, business leaders, people with lives similar to the men on CCS board. The group's purpose was to monitor the creek, form a land trust, lobby the city to improve its zoning laws concerning flood plains, and lobby the county to enact some. Generally these visionaries saw the value of any action that would lead to preservation of the valley of Lawson's Fork.

Up until now there have been important and decisive victories in the battle to protect the flood plain of the only large creek or river that begins and ends in Spartanburg County. With the help of The Junior League of Spartanburg the River Birch Trail was established in the 1980s. Today thousands walk the trail behind the high school for recreation and relaxation.

Further downstream, in 1989 a 93-acre parcel of flood plain was saved from an imminent clear cut by $20,000 from The Spartanburg County Foundation. SPACE, the land trust the early visionaries had hoped would one day exist, was formed out of the effort. The Edwin M. Griffin Preserve (The Cottonwood Trail), is now one of the most popular destinations in the upstate for hiking, running and bird watching.

In the late 1990s a paddling trail was added to the efforts to make the Lawson's Fork a valued green space corridor. It was the first successful effort to link the entire flood plain with launch and take-out spots from Whitney all the way to the creek's confluence with the Pacolet River.

All of these Lawson's Fork corridor projects are valuable conservation actions, but ironically many of the same people who wrote checks in support are also the members of the club now destroying them.

As the country club clear cut progresses, the community loses a wildlife corridor. The people of the upstate suffer diminishing water quality on the creek. The Lake Forest neighbors drive past every day and know that beyond a thin "aesthetic" border of trees the country club property is now a snarl of rotting tops, limbs, stumps and vines, and what's worse, a wide-open-to-the-sun kudzu disaster waiting to happen.

This week there have been televised protests, newspaper articles, and confrontations between loggers and Spartanburg visionaries interested in conservation of the last remaining parcels of east side biodiversity. To quiet the protesters the board threw in a minimum streamside buffer, but made it clear by law they don't even have to do that. No one will soon forget how short-sighted they were, how out of touch, how blind to anything but their own reasoning.

In the future when informed citizens talk of bad land use decisions by people with power in Spartanburg County, they will point to the country club board and their clear cut on Lake Forest Drive. If, as Janisse Ray suggests, there is a God intimately involved in the daily affairs of the planet, it wasn't a good week in heaven.