Thursday, February 9,1989
The Battalion
Page 15
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Kind sheriff solves problems
for 36 years by being friendly
STANTON (AP) — You couldn’t
find a better next-door neighbor
than Dan Saunders.
And that’s pretty much what
Saunders is to the 5,000 people who
live and work in rural Martin
County and its home-spun county-
seat— Stanton.
Saunders, who at 63 has been the
Martin County sheriff since 1953, is
known as amiable, understanding,
temperate, compassionate and out
right nice.
He’s not just a peace officer. He’s
personality.
The sheriff seems to be on the
threshold of sainthood.
He is the “Dean of Texas Sher
iffs,” which means he has been in of
fice longer than any of Texas’ cur
rent 254 sheriffs.
And Saunders is right proud of
living so long and being elected term
after term. He has been challenged
by an opponent only once — in 1980
— since he first was elected to office
in 1952.
“I made a mistake,” he said. “The
rumor got out that I was not going to
run.”
So, another Democrat, who hadn’t
a prayer, challenged the sheriff and,
of course, lost.
“I’m a firm believer in dancing
with the one that brung you,” smiled
Saunders, who says he is a “dyed-in-
the-wool” Democrat. “I believe in
staying with the party. I don’t believe
in changing parties,” he said, “and I
don’t believe in splitting a ticket.
That would be just like saying I love
one of my sons more than the other.
“When they bury me, they can
say, ‘Well, there lies a loyal Demo
crat,’ ” he said. “Loyalty is one of
biggest words in my vocabulary.”
Well, the sheriffs work here is not
finished and neither is he. And
“they” already are talking about Dan
Saunders — a country boy and a
fanner’s son who was raised on a cot
ton farm at neighboring Lenorah.
Spelunker
explores
new realms
BOWLING GREEN, Ky. (AP)
—James H. Smith was a terrified,
14-year-old Boy Scout growing
up in Georgia when he entered
his first cave.
“I was scared to death,” Smith
recalls. “There were large lakes
and large streams. People put on
scuba diving equipment and went
under water.
“1 remember thinking, Til
never do that.’”
Now, some 19 years later,
Smith has won a national award
for his work in cave exploration,
and he is working on a master’s
thesis on the caves of the Huautla
Plateau in Mexico.
Smith received the 1988 Lew
Bicking Award, presented by the
National Speleological Society to
outstanding explorers.
Bicking, an agressive spe
lunker from Baltimore who died
in an automobile accident, ex
plored caves in the East — partic
ularly in West Virginia — during
the 1960s.
Smith is credited with tripling
the number of known caves in
Tennessee, Alabama and Georgia
that are more than 400 feet deep.
He also is credited with discover
ing the first cave in the Western
Hemisphere to be more than a ki
lometer (0.62 miles) deep. Smith
has been on a total of 88 cave
trips, logging 12 expeditions to
Huautla and 12 more to other
areas in Mexico and Europe.
For Smith, caving has been a
way to push himself beyond limits
he once thought impossible.
“I’ve always been afraid of
heights,” Smith says. “When
you’re exploring a cave, you have
to expose yourself to heights.
That took a lot of repetition and
coaxing by more experienced
people.
“You are going into black voids
and dropping ropes back out. I’ve
always had an adventuresome
spirit, and I’ve always wanted to
test my own ability and daring.
will he the hostto
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r Auditorium. Smith asked his future wife,
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date while they were caving.
Smith’s wife, Pamela Duncan,
likes caving, but does not share
his passion for it, Smith says. She
works, enabling him to study and
to explore caves.
Eventually, he says he hopes to
find a job that will allow him to
take off three months a year to go
caving.
“When you explore a cave,” he
says, “you are actually going to
one of the few places on the face
of the earth where nobody ever
has been.
“By going into a cave, you are
making a contribution to the un
derstanding of unknown realms
within this earth.”
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From childhood, when he got ac
quainted with amiable Martin
County sheriffs such as Milt Yater
and Morris Zimmerman, Saunders
was impressed.
Particularly, he recalls Zimmer
man. Way back, young Dan Saun
ders respected and admired the
sheriff who, like Saunders is today,
was a friend of youth. Zimmerman
kept a lot of kids out of trouble,
Saunders said. The old sheriff wore
“a good hat” and drove a new black
Ford automobile.
“I thought he was rich,” Saunders
recalled. “I can see now he was just
like me — had an overdraft and
bought groceries on credit.”
More than just a few folks attest to
Saunders’ impeccable character.
“He’s solid in his wavs — a fine
Saunders is a former president of
the Sheriffs Association, whose
23,000 members include sheriffs,
policemen, deputies, marshals,
Texas Rangers and Federal Bureau
of Investigation agents.
Saunders is a father-figure to
rookie sheriffs, says Midland County
Sheriff Gary Painter, 41. “If a guy
needs assistance, he is always there.
He never turns anybody down.
Seems like I’ve known him all of my
life. Midland County couldn’t have a
better neighbor. He’s a wonderful
person.”
Martin County Attorney James
McGilvray says he is impressed with
his neighbor in the courthouse.
“I don’t believe that anybody has
ever called up Dan that he wouldn’t
I don’t believe that anybody has ever called up
Dan that he wouldn’t help them.
“He doesn’t help people for what they can do for
him. He helps them because he likes to help
people. It’s a different approach than what a lot of
people take.”
James McGilvray,
Martin County Attorney
fellow, sure is,” said former Gray
County Sheriff Rule Jordan ol
Pampa in the Panhandle.
Saunders succeeded Jordan as
dean of Texas’ sheriffs.
“I’ve known Dan since he was was
a highway patrolman,” said Jordan.
“He’s a nice boy — an exceptionally
fine man and officer.”
Gordon Johnson, an ex-lawman
who is executive director of the
1874-founded Sheriffs Association
of Texas, calls Saunders a “mighty
fine individual. He’s very attuned to
the needs of his people.”
help them,” McGilvray said.
“He doesn’t help people for what
they can do for him. He helps them
because he likes to help people. It’s a
different approach than what a lot
of people take.”
The genteel sheriff has a knack
for soothing irate folks, resolving
problems, solving cases, and be
friending the forsaken. He doesn’t
holster a sidearm, although he has a
cabinet full of rifles and six-shooters
and a well-used Bible on his desk.
He doesn’t even hunt and doesn’t
have a hobby.
“He will soothe you down and
take care of your problems,” McGilv
ray said. “Dan is able to handle them
(the accused and criminals) and still
be their friends.”
And the sheriff, who earns
$27,400 a year in a county that’s rel
atively rich in cotton, cattle and oil
production, is not in the job for the
money, McGilvray said. “That (sal
ary) is no money for the top peace
officer in the county. He’s in the job
because he loves it.”
“It (the pay) figures out to $3.35
an hour,” said Martin County Judge
Bob Deavenport, who, like the sher
iff, puts in long hours — days, nights
and weekends.
And Saunders figures no man
“amounted to a hill of beans” if he
worked only eight hours a day.
“A sheriff has lot of power,” he
said. “I may under-do my power, but
I have never over-done it or used
this badge on my left chest to abuse
people. I treat them with dignity.”
And Saunders, who knows the
county and its people well, says:
“There is not a farm or a ranch in
Martin County that I can’t go to at 3
o’clock in the morning, and that sure
helps me serve people.”
Saunders, who gets along well
with judges, other officials, and law
yers, said that he thanks God “we
live in a land where we can be tried
before a jury of our peers. It may
not be a perfect system, but it is the
best in the world, and I respect it.”
Butch Howard, the Martin
County treasurer who farms and
ranches, said Saunders would be so
rely missed were he to leave office.
“He’s going to be hard to do with
out pne of these days,” Howard said.
“Real hard. He’s one of a kind.
There will never be another like
him.”
United Nation’s stamp sales
fall, stamp collecting declines
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Earnings from the sale of U.N.
postage stamps fell two-thirds in the
1980s, a problem the U.N. postal
agency blames on unpopular themes
and a vanishing generation of collec
tors. 1
“Our base group of collectors
started in the 1950s and it is dying,
to put it bluntly,” says Gisela Grune-
wald, head of the U.N. Postal Ad
ministration.
Stamp sales also are hampered by
agency reliance on political and so
cial themes: “Our subjects are much
more political; we cannot put out a
puppy-dog or LOVE stamp,”
Grunewald adds.
While most political stamps simply
fail to attract collectors, some politi
cal issues actually repel them.
In 1981, the General Assembly in
structed the U.N. postal agency to is
sue a stamp proclaiming “the inalie
nable rights of the Palestinian
people.”
Michael Lawrence, editor and
publisher of Linn’s Stamp News, the
authoritative guide for collectors,
says the stamp was a disaster because
“many of the stamp dealers in the
United States are Jewish.”
“I think we answered 20,000 let
ters on that issue,” says Grunewald.
“There was a rumor that the U.N.
was issuing a stamp to honor the
PLO and that revenue from the
stamp would be sent to (Yasser) Ar
afat. It is very difficult to explain to
the public the difference between
the PLO and the Palestinian peo
ple.”
Income from U.N. stamps sales
goes into the general budget, reduc
ing the assessment member nations
pay. It does not go to the cause or
agency pictured on the stamp.
U.N. stamps vary in their value to
collectors. The 1954 Human Rights
stamp had a face value of 3 cents. It
now sells for up to $9.50. A three-
stamp block in 1955 that honored
the U.N.’s 10th anniversary had a
face value of 15 cents; now its value
ranges from $190 to $320.
A recent audit of all U.N. agencies
noted that net income of the U.N.
Postal Administration declined from
$13.5 million in 1980 to $4.5 million
in 1987. It criticized the agency for
lacking a marketing plan and for
leaving two of three marketing di
rectors’ posts vacant.
Grunewald says a marketing plan
will be in place by the end of the
year.
The agency has been unable to fill
marketing posts under the U.N.’s
general hiring freeze, but other em
ployees have been performing most
of those duties, she says.
“There is an inherent Catch-22
situation in trying to run a commer
cial enterprise in an organization
with bureaucratic restraints,” she
adds. “It’s not something that comes
as a surprise to any of us, although
it’s sometimes very frustrating.”
The real crisis, she says, is that
stamp collecting, the hobby that has
added tens of millions of dollars to
the coffers of the cash-poor United
Nations, is in decline worldwide.
Lawrence says that sales by na
tions such as Andorra, San Marino,
Lichtenstein and Monaco, which ag
gressively market their stamps for
collectors, suffered a slump in the
1980s.
In 1979-80 there was a boom in all
collectibles because of a high infla
tion rate that cooled in the 1980s,
says Lawrence. Sales of stamps,
coins, gold, antiques and other tan
gible goods peaked in 1980 and then
tapered off.
The U.N. Postal Administration
got an extra lift early in the decade,
says Grunewald, because it opened
an office in Vienna, joining those in
New York and Geneva. It also
launched a series of flag stamps and
had other popular special issues that
boosted sales.
Stamp collectors generally start
the hobby as children, drop out in
their teens and take it up again in
their late 20s or 30s.
“It is not easy for us to find collec
tors at the young age because of our
topics,” says Grunewald. Marketing
surveys show political subjects are
the least favored by collectors, while
stamps featuring butterflies and
flowers are the most popular.
“In all postal administrations, the
question is ‘How can we get 6-, 7-, 8-
year-olds to switch off the video and
go to stamp collecting?’,” she says. “I
have to tell you that I have not heard
a convincing strategy yet.
“Everybody in the trade and in
the business who has children tells
me their own children don’t collect.
My children don’t collect. They
aren’t interested.”
Racer wins big bucks racing ducks
BOSQUE FARMS, N.M. (AP) —
In Robert Duck’s championship rac
ing stable are birds with names like
Michael DuQuackis and Here’s
George, neither of whom were win
ners in the recent Olympics of wad
dling.
Duck races ducks. In fact, he
usually dominates the annual Great
American Duck Race in Deming.
And don’t start coining puns about
his name. He’s heard them all.
“Most of them are too fowl to re
peat,” he says.
Feathers fly when Duck begins his
training routine at his farm here.
‘Go, go, go,” he yells as he chases a
quacking mallard down a 24-foot-
long training track.
“Eight-nine,” his wife, Kathy,
shouts, punching the stopwatch as
Oliver South rushes past the finish.
Oliver South is one of the most
celebrated members of the Ducks’
stable. He won the eighth annual
Great American Duck Race last year,
covering the 16-foot course at Dem
ing Duck Downs in a record time of
1.23 seconds.
Another of Duck’s flock, Pride of
the 62nd Army Band, won the 1988
race in late August with a time of
1.08 seconds, shattering Oliver
South’s record. Duck’s 28 entries
won six of eight places in the finals
and all three top positions in the fi
nal race.
Duck’s ducks have won in seven of
the eight years they’ve competed.
Duck racing has flourished in
Deming since it started as an af
ternoon gathering in 1980. Several
hundred ducks from several states
competed this year and were
cheered on by several thousand
spectators.
“The original idea was to get
maybe 50 ducks out to the park,
maybe 150 people or so, have a bar
becue, a good time and go home,”
Duck says. “Then the national news
media picked it up and it has absolu
tely gone bonkers since.”
Several trainers show up with 20
or more ducks at $10 an entry.
Duck says he first entered the race
because of his last name, and got se
rious about it because of the money.
The 38-year-old president of an Al
buquerque-based wholesale jewelry
company says he has earned more
than $30,000 racing ducks, taking
home $5,450 this year alone.
“But once you’re on top of the
hill, and especially when your name
is Duck and you’re winning duck
races, it’s more than the money,” he
says. “It’s the fun of the event.”
Duck also has appeared on the
“Tonight Show” and has been fea
tured in several national magazines.
He says he’s not just a lucky Duck.
The secret to winning, he says, is try
ing different training techniques.
“Duck racing is such a new sport,
it doesn’t have hundreds of years of
history like horse racing where
there’s been tried and proven tech
niques of training,” he says. “You
just have to be very innovative.”
Duck one year tried filling socks
with sand and gravel and tying them
to his racers’ legs with shoestrings to
strengthen the muscles. He aban
doned the idea, however, when the
socks kept getting caught on things.
“Since then, I have developed
some training methods for building
up the muscles, which I am going to
stop short of revealing,” he says.
But he says it’s not true he’ll do
anything for a fast duck.
“I would never do anything ille
gal,” he says. “I would never do any
thing to hurt the duck.”
He starts his training routine six
weeks before race day, working with
the ducks every evening.
Before each race, Duck whispers
words of encouragement that would
make Knute Rockne proud: “Be a
winner or be dinner.”
Large families survive
financially tough times
by sharing clothes, love
ODESSA, Texas (AP) — Steve
and Laurel Vore knew when they
were sweethearts at Permian
High School that they wanted to
have a large family.
“We believe that it’s a special
privilege to be entrusted with
God’s children,” Mrs. Vore said.
The east Odessa couple made
good on their high school plans.
They have six children: Chris, 18;
Erin, 16; Kerry, 14; Nathan, 12;
Britney, 8; and Rebekah, 17
months.
“Sometimes it seems like a lot,
but sometimes it seems like some
one’s missing,” said Vore.
“There’s never enough of them.”
That’s a feeling shared by Ka
ren Hopkins, who also wanted a
large family. Having only one
brother, Hopkins decided she
wanted at least six children. She
did herself one better. She has
seven children: Julie, 17; Jill, 16;
Jenny, 10; Josh, 8; Jordan, 6;
Jeric, 4; and Joey, 2.
Having large families has pre
sented special problems to the
Vores and Hopkins. But if not
cheaper, life often is better by the
half-dozen.
As part owner of Mesa Man
ufacturing Inc., Vore is able to
provide his family financially.
Because of a recent separation
from her husband, Karen Hop
kins and her family must live with
her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Arte
Yates of east Odessa. An insur
ance agent, Hopkins sometimes
struggles to provide for her chil
dren.
But both families deal with fi
nancial problems in much the
same way — sharing.
“Sometimes the children have
to share a room or a car,” Mrs.
Vore said. “I can buy three pair
of jeans and the boys share them
because they’re the same size. If
clothes are in good enough
shape, they get handed down. ”
Hopkins also has to keep
clothes circulating.
“Sunday clothes and dressier
things make it all the way down,”
Hopkins said. “The kids keep
them in good shape. But we try
hard to make sure everyone gets
something new.”
Chores are shared in both fam
ilies. In the Vore family, a com
puter readout tells each child
what he must do on any given
day, including when he has a day
off. Tasks range from setting the
table to washing and drying one
load of laundry.
“We change the schedule of
ten,” Mrs. Vore said. “But if we
didn’t do it this way, with so many
of us messing the house up, it
wouldn’t get done. We have to
share the work.”
The rule is simple in the Hop
kins household.
“If you want anyone to come
over as a guest, you help clean
up,” Hopkins said.
Money for Christmas and
birthdays is also monitored clo
sely.
“We allot about $100 per child
for Christmas,” said Mrs. Vore.
“But as each child gets older, the
amount graduates. For example,
the 17-month-old may not need
$100 worth of toys, but the 18-
year-old may need a senior ring.
The children draw names to de
cide who they’ll buy a gift for.
They get an allowance and can
spend up to $15 on the gift.”
Hopkins has much the same
plan. So much money is allotted
to each child.
“This Christmas was smaller
than usual,” said Dot Yates, Hop
kins’ mother. “But we had our
traditions and everyone was very
grateful.”
Birthday celebrations are small
in both families as well.
The birthday child in the Vore
household is allowed to have two
dose friends spend the night, go
to a movie or go out to dinner.
Friends are an important part
of any birthday at the Hopkins
home as well.
“We always have something,
whether it’s a piece of cake and a
balloon,” Yates said. “But as long
as they’ve got their friends,
they’re happy.”
Attention can be just as scarce
in a large family. The parents
work hard to make sure no child
is swallowed up by the demands
of too many brothers and sisters.
“They say the oldest is an over
achiever, the middle child is out
going, the youngest is quiet,”
Vore said. “We have an example
of each in our family. But each
has his own interests and we en
courage them.”
Hopkins believes having so
many brothers and sisters was a
big help to her children this past
year.
Useless plants become
wild dinner for author
MIDLAND, Texas (AP) — Mes
quite mousse, jellied tumbleweed
salad and brandied prickly pears
may not appeal to the average pal
ate, but a handful of wild food en
thusiasts are harvesting the same
plants that most farmers consider
public nuisances.
Many who gaze upon the desert
areas of the Southwest may see a
harsh land of useless mesquite,
scrub, tumbleweeds and cacti. An
enlightened few, however, see a land
abundant with foods fit to grace the
dinner table.
This back-to-the-future trend of
using what is available on the land
harkens back to ancient agriculture,
according to Carolyn J. Nietham-
mer, author of “The Tumbleweed
Gourmet: Cooking with Wild South
western Plants.”
She says most of the agricultural
crops and wild foods grown in the
United States were first domesti
cated by Neolithic societies.
Niethammer says she was inspired
to cook wild plants after reading the
“Global 2000 Report to the Presi
dent,” which among other things
predicts a 100 percent increase in
food prices by the next century. But
there are things the consumer can
do about it, she says.
“This means gardening, as 42 per
cent of American households do,
and it also means gathering the
bounty of free wild produce that
continutes to grow throughout the
continent,” she said.
Niethammer, a resident of Tuc
son, Ariz., said she discovered that
Zuni Indians were still using foods
of the past, but using modern tech
niques to prepare them.
“No rule says you have to use an
cient techniques in preparing an
cient foods,” Niethammer writes.
“Blenders, food processors and slow
cookers can make quick work of
what took Indian and settler women
all day. In other words, it is not nec
essary to go to a stream bed and
pound mesquite bean with a 20-
pound pestle in a bedrock mortar.
“Just as ancient foods can fit into
our modern cooking techniques, so
also can they be incorporated into
our modern dishes.”
One caution, however — plenty of
wild foods are poisonous and can
cause illness or death. Be certain you
know exactly what you are picking,
as many desert plants look alike.
Also, state and local regulations
for gathering plants, seeds and fruit
on public lands vary widely.
In Texas, no foods may be picked
from roadsides for safety reasons,
according to Melanie Sikes of the
United States Soil Conservation
Service.
Public lands also include national
parks which are strictly off-limits for
gathering anything — rocks or
plants, according to Wayne Chap
pell, captain of the law enforcement
division for Texas Parks and Wild
life in Austin.
The best places to gather foods
safely on Texas public lands, Chap
pell said, would be near public sec
tions of riverbeds. “But nonetheless,,
it’s always best to check before gathe
ring,” he said.
But Neithammer notes that often,
residents of the Southwest need look
no further than their own backyards
for plants.
Many who gaze upon
the desert areas of the
Southwest may see a
harsh land of useless
mesquite, scrub,
tumbleweeds and cacti. An
enlightened few, however,
see a land abundant with
foods fit to grace the dinner
table.
The plants’ availability “gives ev
eryone the opportunity to partake of
a genuine American culinary tradi
tion,” she writes. “The difference is
delightful and nutritious.”
Although the use of prickly pears
in the United States generally has
been confined to prickly pear jelly,
Niethammer’s cookbook includes
recipes for kuchen, muffins, sher
bet, candy and rice pudding, all
made with prickly pears.
Mesquite, valued by barbecue fans
for the destinctive smoked flavor it
gives to grilled meats, is also valuable
for its bounty of sweet pods, Nie
thammer says. The invasive tree,
which often is bulldozed by ranch
ers, once was a source of food, fuel,
shelter, weapons, tools, fiber, medi
cine and hair dye for desert Indians.
Even green tumbleweeds can be
used like more conventional vegeta
bles in salads and as a side dish, she
says.