The Cape Wind issue seems to be revving up. Greenpeace is at it again, spreading television commercials all over Massachusetts.
When Alex Beam of the Boston Globe gave our book such a great review, he called Greenpeace "the merry pranksters."
Sometimes that seems like an understatement. In our book on Cape Wind, we devote a considerable amount of ink to their on-going support of the beleagured project.
Here's Beam's longer review in the Weekly Standard:
Wind, Sand, and Stars
Or, the NIMBYs of Nantucket Sound.
by Alex Beam in Weekly Standard
David McCullough's face contorted with anger.
That is the first line of Wendy Williams's and Robert Whitcomb's account of one man's possibly misguided attempt to build a wind farm off Cape Cod. My first thought was: Oh, goody. Something snippy about Saint David. I am going to enjoy this.
On page one, McCullough is fulminating about Cape Wind, the 24-square-mile, turbine-powered electrical power project that energy entrepreneur Jim Gordon wants to build in Horseshoe Shoal, not far from McCullough's Martha's Vineyard home. McCullough sputters in fine company, with Walter Cronkite, Rachel "Bunny" Mellon, and all manner of Kennedys. Because, as everyone knows, it is one thing to speak out in favor of homeless shelters, affordable housing, and "clean" energy projects. It is quite another thing to gaze at them from your front door.
Authors Williams and Whitcomb-she is a veteran Cape Cod reporter, he is editorial page editor at the Providence Journal dispense with objectivity in their treatment of the Cape Wind project. Who can blame them? They're having too much fun. The Cape and Islands, as we Bostonians call them, have indeed become a "devil's triangle of entrenched, often inherited wealth," providing targets aplenty for our intrepid writers.
How unsurprising that Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a stalwart contributor to Vanity Fair's perfume-scented "green" issue, vociferously opposes a wind farm in the hallowed waters where he learned to sail. For rhetorical effect, the Kennedys like to call the shoal a "national marine sanctuary," and "one of the richest fisheries in North America." Neither statement is true. The local paper, whose former publisher hobnobbed with the yacht set, often serves as a megaphone for Camelot-on-the-Cape, and has suggested that the benighted city of Fall River would be better suited for wind turbines.
Another Cape Wind opponent, former Phelps Dodge Corp. capo Douglas Yearley, explains to an interviewer that, yes, his mining business may have despoiled parts of the American West, but let's face it, New Mexico isn't as pretty as Nantucket. And Yearley doesn't summer in New Mexico, after all.
The Mellons and the DuPonts have summered on the Cape for a lot longer than former cable TV salesman Jim Gordon has been a millionaire, and, naturally, they have powerful friends. Cue the pathetic marital opportunist Sen. John Warner, who nominally represents the people of Virginia. Blubbering to the Senate's Environment and Public Works Committee, Warner invokes his first, pre-Elizabeth Taylor, wife: "A wonderful person who is still a very dear and valued friend. . . . She does have a home on the Cape. I was actually married there."
The wonderful woman in question is Catherine Mellon, daughter of Bunny, the widow of Paul Mellon. Bunny, who is the first person named in Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis's will-Jackie left her two Indian miniatures, by way of thanks for Bunny's help in redesigning the White House Rose Garden-is an ardent Cape Wind opponent. In the book, she accuses a lawyer who does not hate Cape Wind assiduously enough of being a "traitor to your class." That's language you expect to hear on Masterpiece Theater, not in George W. Bush's America.
The aggrieved plutocrats do what aggrieved plutocrats everywhere do. For starters, they fill the campaign coffers of politicians willing to do their bidding. Predictably, Teddy Kennedy and former Massachusetts governor and current presidential candidate Mitt Romney receive special attention. (Inconveniently for the gotrocks, the state's current governor, Deval Patrick, has a palatial second home in the faraway Berkshires; he supports Cape Wind.) Yearley, alongside a local moneybags named Richard Egan, who purchased the ambassadorship to Ireland under Bill Clinton, and the ubiquitous William Koch, among others, have also bankrolled a phony "grass roots" pressure group called the Alliance to Protect Nantucket Sound.
Williams and Whitcomb feign surprise that the Alliance and its powerful backers don't play fair. "In my 30 years as a journalist, I had never seen such a brazen attempt to obstruct the democratic process," Williams tells us in a breathy Author's Note. What? Just because they're dressed for croquet doesn't mean they won't swing the mallet at your head. The Alliance litigates, filibusters, and successfully packs regulatory hearings with its supporters. They have been effective. Time equals money in the business world, and in April, a federal agency announced yet another delay in Cape Wind's environmental review, pushing the project into its sixth year of pushmepullyou legal wrangling.
Yes, there are some good guys. There is an incorruptible pro-Cape Wind state senator whom the Alliance lawyers and dirty tricksters cannot unseat. There is a Lehman Brothers investment banker named Theodore Roosevelt IV, who summers on the Vineyard and is gung-ho for Cape Wind. "My wife hates my position," he admits. P.J. O'Rourke's friend and neighbor, former New Hampshire congressman Charlie Bass, supported Cape Wind-on principle. "He's a man of conviction, he just does this stuff sometimes" is how a lobbyist explains Bass's aberrant behavior. Jack Welch is a traitor to his Nantucket neighbors. He supports Cape Wind because General Electric makes the turbines.
The authors relate how, pace President Bush, Cape Wind has proved to be a uniter, not a divider. Outraged by the shenanigans on Capitol Hill-not only Warner, but also Alaska's notorious "bridge to nowhere" congressman Don Young have tried to throttle the child of Aeolus in its watery crib-such unlikely bedfellows as Robert Novak, the Washington Post, and the Washington Times have leapt to Cape Wind's defense.
How rare for Sun Myung Moon's scribblers, to say nothing of Rupert Murdoch's salarymen at Fox News, to find themselves allied with the merry pranksters from Greenpeace, who have injected some badly needed humor into the Cape Wind imbroglio. Greenpeace produced an ad showing a roly-poly senator standing knee-deep in salt water, brandishing a wooden mallet. As wind turbines surface, the senator smashes them down, Whac-a-Mole style, complaining that "I might see them from my mansion on the Cape." Fox News commentators Sean Hannity and Alan Colmes loved the ad, and gave it air play.
Greenpeace teased Robert Kennedy Jr. during an anti-Cape Wind photo op and infiltrated a Ted Kennedy book-signing in Washington. While the senior senator from Massachusetts signed copies of America Back on Track, replete with predictable complaints about the country's energy policy, Greenpeaceniks handed out dummy book covers to people waiting in line. Their alternate title: How I Killed America's First Offshore Wind Farm.
I ask you, where is the respect?
Cape Wind is breezy and informative fun. Here is my inevitable demurrer. Should the authors have asked themselves, Is it really such a smart idea to set up 130, 440-foot-tall, massive propeller towers in Ted Kennedy's private bathtub? Okay, they are five miles offshore, and they loom low on the horizon. But still, this is the same water where John Forbes Kerry likes to windsurf, close to the Forbes family's privately owned island, adjacent to shorelines now almost entirely owned by very wealthy families. The authors initially describe Cape Wind entrepreneur Gordon as smart, and then as stubborn. So far he has invested $20 million of his own money in the project. Is it possible that he is just plain stupid?
Out of curiosity, I asked coauthor Whitcomb about the odds of Cape Wind ever being built. He thinks the project now has a 65 percent chance of completion, which is a radical change in fortune. Three years ago, the odds were closer to 100-1 against. A state bureaucrat whose judgment I trust says the odds are closer to 50-50, but that's still pretty good.
If I told you I wanted to build a 24-square-mile power plant in Ted Kennedy's backyard, you would say I'm crazy. Now I'm only half crazy.
Alex Beam, columnist for the Boston Globe, is the author of Gracefully Insane: Life and Death Inside America's Premier Mental Hospital.
This review in the current issue of The weekly Standard is reprinted in full here with the magazine's permission.
