Wisconsin Public Television

Transcript: In Wisconsin

Original Air Date: July 13, 2006

Patty Loew:

Hello, everyone, and welcome to our summer season of "In Wisconsin." I'm patty loew. This summer we're visiting our state parks and natural areas. This week, we're at Peninsula State Park in Door County. The park was established in 1909 and covers almost 4,000 acres. It includes many spectacular features, like the striking vistas you can see from the park's dolomite cliffs. We'll bring you more scenery from the park later in the program. But first, learn how a Chippewa County landowner created a balanced, economic, and environmental future for her farmland.

Woman:

I know my dad wanted to see this preserved and protected just because of its natural beauty.

Loew:

Meet Cordelia Taylor, a nearly unstoppable woman making a difference for Milwaukee's young and old.

Woman:

We all have gifts, and God expects us to use those gifts.

Loew:

And take flight in a light weight contraption that critics say isn't grounded by state law.

Man:

Around here I think the potential for abuse is quite minimal. I think where you'll see it is around the big cities.

Loew:

All that coming up, "In Wisconsin."

Loew:

State parks like Peninsula are established to preserve unique natural areas, but what happens when private landowners are interested in conserving some of their land, but retaining the rights to work other parts of it? That's what Chippewa County landowner Sally Lewis needed to find out.

Narrator:

Just off highway 40 in Chippewa County is the Lewis farm. It looks tranquil, peaceful. But this place is in transition, wrestling with the question of how to preserve the past and move into the future. This used to be a dairy farm, some 250 acres lovingly tended by Thomas and Doris Lewis. They brought their young family here, and for decades this was home. When they died, they left the farm to their daughter, Sally.

Sally Lewis:

Being left with the responsibility of its future from my parents, I just feel it is a big responsibility to be a good steward of the land. They put so much hard work and energy into it, I just feel like I have to take good care of it.

Narrator:

There are memories to this place.

Lewis:

Catching frogs at the pond, getting the cows home for milking, hunted a few deer out here. Missed a few deer out here. Am I supposed to admit that? Ok. I just did.

Narrator:

But most importantly for Lewis are those parts of the farm that form a special legacy. Take a look.

Lewis:

This is the prime section that I wanted to protect and preserve. I know my dad wanted to see this preserved and protected, just because of its natural beauty. I've seen how development is cropping up everywhere. It used to be around big lakes, but now people are invading the natural wild pond areas.

Narrator:

How to save what her parents had worked so hard to conserve. Enter an easement, a conservation easement.

Lewis:

The word easement, all I heard before was, you know, like for a driveway purpose that you can cross somebody's land, that you can get permission that way.

Narrator:

To protect her property from subdivision, Lewis got a conservation easement placed on the farm.

Lewis:

So this yellow border defines the property line as well as the easement boundaries. There's one of the larger wild ponds.

Narrator:

Lewis sold the right to develop this right. She sold it to a land trust, and an easement, a conservation easement that this land can't be subdivided or developed was placed on her deed. In return, Lewis got some tax benefits, and the land stays as it is.

Lewis:

It gives me a peace of mind knowing that it's permanently protected from being subdivided and developed even after I'm gone.

Narrator:

Lewis worked with the West Wisconsin Land Trust for her easement. There are 55 different land trusts in Wisconsin. Vicki Elkin is the head of "Gathering Waters" a consortium of all the different land trusts in the state.

Vicki Elkin:

A lot of these people find their way to a land trust because they're interested in protecting their land in the future. A lot of them are worried about what's going to happen when they pass away, or if they ever have to sell the land, they don't want to see it developed in the future. So, there are different ways a land trust can work with a private landowner, and it really depends on the interests and needs of the landowners. Once the landowner signs this agreement, it's permanent, and so it runs with the land. All future landowners are bound by the restrictions in that easement. But it's really a great tool, because when you're working with the land trust to negotiate the easement, it's very flexible. You can talk about whether or not you want to retain a home site or two home sites for your kids. You can do that, you can include that in the easement.

Lewis:

The actual homestead is in this triangular piece with the buildings and the barn.

Narrator:

Easements can be customized. Each landowner can specify what goes in, what stays out. What's to be done in the various parts of the property.

Lewis:

The homestead is going to remain the homestead. I can make improvements, build structures, do what I want on that residential zone that's defined. Around the buildings there's an agricultural zone where my brother rents the land from me and continues to grow crops.

Narrator:

Not only can she still grow crops --

Lewis:

This part was left out because it has potential for a commercial site being at the intersection of highway M and State Road 40.

Narrator:

Lewis' easement even allows for commercial development on a portion of her property.

Lewis:

Essentially, you know, I can still plant, you know, restore prairies, I can still cut timber, I can plant trees. I can do a lot of things, but what can't happen here is it can't be subdivided, it can't be turned into just a commodity where you're demolishing the landscape to wring out every last dime you can of its value.

Narrator:

Lewis still owns this land. It's not a park. It's still her property.

Elkin:

There's no need for public access, and that's something landowners ask us a lot. If they enter into this, is the public going to be able to come on their land whenever they want? And that's not true. They can allow public access if they want to, but it's not a standard part of these agreements.

Narrator:

For Lewis, though, public access to at least part of the property was important. It was a way to honor her father's wishes.

Lewis:

He had talked about creating an ice age park here at one time even. So I knew that that was his future wish and goal for that property.

Narrator:

Plans for this part of the property will allow for some public access, hunting, snowmobiling, and some no-trace camping may be allowed. Places as beautiful as this face enormous pressures. The Lewis farm was no exception.

Lewis:

Secluded Land Company has approached me at least twice a year with a little mailing and a business card. And now they've resorted to phone calls, but I had the pleasure a few weeks ago of telling them to tell them to take me off their list because I signed up for a conservation easement.

Narrator:

The farm was not for sale. The reaction of the Realtors?

Lewis:

"Oh, no!" they said. And I said, "Oh, yes!" So I kindly asked them to take me off their list.

It's just comforting to know that it will always stay the way it is. A lot of childhood memories, like the riding on the tractor, maybe, or coming back to get the cows, picking blackberries and a little bonfire, nice being out and just appreciating the beauty of it, just appreciating my parents. Even though they've physically left, at least they're still here.

Loew:

The West Wisconsin Land Trust is working to protect a number of properties within a mile of the Lewis farm. It's also partnering with Chippewa County Conservation and the Wisconsin DNR to protect about 2,000 acres of the chippewa river.

Loew:

Our next report celebrates the can-do spirit of a Milwaukee woman. When Cordelia Taylor saw the way that some nursing home residents were treated, she set out to make a change, a big change. On Milwaukee's north side on a quiet street across from this boarded-up home sits a row of beautifully maintained houses. Little on the outside would tell you that this is a residential care facility for low income seniors, or that it's the life work, the mission of Cordelia Taylor.

Cordelia Taylor:

That's all right.

Loew:

This is Family House, so named because it started with the Taylor's original family house.

Taylor:

In the early 1970s we moved to the suburbs because our last child had gone off to college and we didn't need a house of this size. So we rented it to another family and we moved to the suburbs.

Loew:

There, Taylor worked as a nursing home administrator, but she became discouraged by how the institutional needs of the facility dictated how residents had to live their lives.

Taylor:

They were told what time to get up and told what time to go to bed, told what time to sit down to eat and how long, and all of this. And I'm a believer when people have worked very hard all of their lives, when they get to the end of their life, they should have freedom of choice.

Loew:

But when she proposed changes, her boss wouldn't listen.

Taylor:

And she said, your job is not to write policy. Your job is to take care of people. And I went home in tears and told my husband, and she said, well why don't you open your own and shut your mouth.

Loew:

Taylor's husband also suggested turning their old family house in Milwaukee into the care facility. Then Taylor learned that to get a license they would have to live within 15 minutes of the home.

Taylor:

So I went back home in tears and told my husband again, and he said, well we came from down there. Let's go back. And we moved into a boarded-up house right down the block.

Loew:

That was in 1987. They quickly learned they were not coming back to the same old neighborhood.

Taylor:

I had a rude awakening. There was shooting at night. There were people gambling on the sidewalk. There was a corner bar at the end of the street where there were parties and drugs, and it was just not a very good situation. I had gotten myself into it and I couldn't back out. And I didn't want to tell my husband that I had made a mistake. So the way I would deal with it is I would tell him all day everything is just fine, just fine, and when everybody goes to bed at night I'd go in the bathroom and cry and ask God to help us get out of this mess. Well, you see, God didn't. You can see god didn't help me get out of this mess. He just kind of fixed it so I could live in this mess. (laughs)

Loew:

Soon after the Taylors fixed up their own home to house eight residents, they expanded and put on an addition. But that wasn't enough to fulfill Family House's mission. So soon they bought the house next door and so on down the block until almost every house on the block was a "Family House." Now, 58 seniors call Family House their home, like 96-year-old Jesse Coleman. She appreciates their schedule, particularly on days after being on dialysis.

Jesse Coleman:

When I come in I can eat my dinner whenever I want to go. Nobody says it's too early. Nobody says that. I like that.

Taylor:

All right. And that will get your strength back?

Coleman:

Sure will.

Taylor:

So I will cook you some greens and corn bread then. If that will get your strength back, that's an easy thing to do.

Loew:

What's remarkable about their growth is they'll admit people regardless of their ability to pay. While most residents eventually receive funding from Milwaukee County, Family House will admit them even before they're enrolled in the government system.

Woman:

My mother was in her 80's and she had been diagnosed with dementia.

Loew:

Gloria Billings moved her mother into Family House while on the waiting list for county support.

Billings:

The county told us it would be from two to three years before Ms. Taylor would get paid. So ms. Taylor let me volunteer to work two days a week. And from the first day I came here as a volunteer I wanted to stay here.

Taylor:

I was looking to see overtime. You know me.

Billings:

No, no overtime.

Loew:

And she has stayed now on staff as the Family House scheduler, one of dozens of local people Taylor has hired. Volunteers donated goods and services are the life's blood of family house.

Taylor:

God bless you.

Woman:

God bless you, too.

Loew:

Taylor has also received funds from supporters of faith-based organizations like the Bradley and Petitt Foundations as well as from a few celebrities.

Taylor:

This is one of our gifts from Oprah Winfrey. She had been very instrumental in helping this mission survive as well. Your daughter from Mississippi called about 6:00 this morning.

Loew:

That mission has expanded beyond the senior care facility. Youth is also served through an after school program and in the Family House garden.

Taylor:

The vegetable garden was put in by the children in the community and the seniors that live here. And as much as we enjoy the fresh vegetables we get from the gardens, the purpose of it is to bring people together.

Loew:

The garden occupies a space where a drug house once stood.

Taylor:

So this house one night burned, and when the police came they told me it was because people were just kind of hiding out there doing crack, and that's why it burned. So they tore it down and I was able to buy the lot for little to nothing, and we planted flowers there.

Loew:

Planting seeds of change has become Cordelia Taylor's specialty. In addition to food grown in the garden, Family House receives donations from Second Harvest which they make available to the neighboring community with certain conditions.

Taylor:

We won't just give a box of food and send somebody out of the door. We find out how many people are in the house, and then we teach them about proportional cooking. We find out where do you shop? And if there's a better place to shop, we talk about when the sales are on for that particular day. It's not just to help people for today, but hopefully it is to change lives.

Loew:

Another way "Family House" nourishes people and tries to change lives is called Food for Thought. It's a twice-monthly free dinner with a speaker who addresses health care or financial issues.

Taylor:

Is that ok? All right. You're welcome. Is the food pretty good?

Boy:

Yeah, good.

Taylor:

But do you know what? You're eating with your hat on. Yeah, there you go.

Loew:

Opening Family House to the neighborhood has taught Taylor about the community's many needs.

Taylor:

One evening in the after school program a little girl had an elevated temperature, and I told her I'm going to take you home and your mom can call the doctor, and she said we don't have a doctor. And I pulled the children in that room, and only one child had a private doctor. And I asked them, where do you go to the doctor? Emergency rooms.

Loew:

Seeing the need for primary care, Taylor opened a neighborhood clinic. Kevin Izard is the clinic physician.

Kevin Izard:

I grew up in that neighborhood, and I understood the mission, and part of the mission is that it's grassroots. This is, this is one person touching one person touching one person.

Taylor:

There's my friend. Hi, my friend. How are you doing?

Loew:

It would be hard to count the people touched by Cordelia Taylor, but she would tell you she's just doing her job.

Taylor:

We are all here to make it go. I always tell the maintenance man that if he don't clean the building, then I don't have a job, because nobody's going to come into a dirty building. So that means his job is just as important as my job as the founder. We all have gifts, and God expects us to use those gifts. God is not coming down here to do anything. He put us here to do it and he expects us to help each other, and that's what we should be about doing.

Loew:

Cordelia Taylor tells us that Family House recently added a Saturday breakfast program, a time when at-risk boys and young men can spend time with mentors.

Loew:

This spot at Peninsula State Park was used as a ski jump in the 1930's, but after World War II it fell into repair and it was dismantled. While some like to get their kicks flying through the air on skis, Others like to glide on wings. This week's Wisconsin Retro report goes back to 1983 and introduces us to a group of ultra-lite enthusiasts.

Man:

You are just kind of floating around, and the airplane is kind of doing its own thing. It's nice and soft, and there's now sharp bumps in the road, so to speak. And of course, the view is just your chance to look over the territory in front of you. It's hard to put it into just so many words. I think it's an experience, it's a total experience.

Narrator:

The total experience that Lynn is talking about goes back to the early days of aviation when Orville and Wilbur escaped the gravitational prison and took to the skies in 1903, 80 years later after going to the moon, aviation has slowed down and reminiscent of Kittyhawk, you can once again feel the wind in your face, the opportunity for flight is spawned ultra-mania.

Man:

It's just a totally new experience that's different than I experienced before as far as flying is concerned in that you're going so slow.

Narrator:

Eldon McDaniel from Merrimac is a stunt pilot. He also sells and services ultra-lites.

McDaniel:

You're going so slow that you get a chance to look at everything. You get a chance to see what it's all about, what's there, you know. I'm used to going 200 miles an hour, and you don't see anything except for what's two miles in front of you. So I get the kick out of the slow speed.

Narrator:

Ultra-lites, by definition, can carry only the pilot. They can't go faster than about 60 miles an hour, and are to be used only for sport and recreation. The craft is also limited to daytime hours, can't weigh more than 254 pounds, and shouldn't fly over populated areas. There are by and large two reasons for the exploding popularity. They're cheap and anyone, underline anyone, can legally fly one.

McDaniel:

The paramount concern that I had. I can fly this thing for $1.50 an hour on fuel. I don't know where you can have anymore fun for $1.50 a an hour.

Narrator:

And the initial cost of approximately$5,000 is but a fraction of the price of a small airplane. That, plus the fact that the Federal Aviation Administration requires no pilot training, no license, no health standards, no minimum age, or approved designs makes ultra-lites the wings of the common man. Most of the pilots we talked to enjoy the self-regulating status given by the FAA. They feel they are the best judges in the ways to control their sport and have welcomed the approach. From across Wisconsin, it seems an unlikely place to sir controversy. These glider riders say they are having fun, and if it's any danger, it's only to themselves, a risk they gladly accept.

McDaniel:

Well, I think that around here I think the potential for abuse is quite minimal. I think where you're going to see it is around the big cities.

Narrator:

Potential risk or not, sales of the cheaper and more accessible ultra-lites are in some cases surpassing those of small airplanes. Manufacturers say production of ultra-lites will run into the hundreds of thousands before the decade is over.

Loew:

Despite predictions from manufacturers, the number of ultra-lite planes in use has remained fairly constant over the past decade, about 15,000 to 20,000. We spoke with the folks at the Experimental Aircraft Association, and they told us that the rules governing ultra-lite planes are essentially unchanged since we first produced that report back in 1983.

That's our program for this week. Join us next time when you'll meet the mother of an autistic child. She says a therapist's unique work with her daughter has been music to her ears.

Woman:

There is a song that came into her life, and she has become a different child.

Loew:

That's next time. We leave you now with more scenery from Peninsula State Park in door county. For "In Wisconsin," I'm Patty Loew. See you next time.

Captioning provided by riverside captioning company www.closed-captioning.com