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Photo by
Hamilton
Kahn
Seashore ranger Emero Weisler has been a target of
critcism since his arrest of a rollerblading resident. |
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Ranger-resident tensions continue
Wariness colors relations between residents,
Seashore personnel
Sue
Harrison
BANNER STAFF
You could say he's kind of a park nut. This New Orleans native has visited over half of the 360 national parks in America, camped in most of them, and loves Cape Cod National Seashore.
Tourist? No, he's protection ranger Emero Weisler, whose latest claim to fame is being the arresting officer in the now infamous rollerblade incident that sent local resident Donna Szeker off to Boston in cuffs and has the town up in arms.
Weisler has been the subject of debate on street corners and in the Judge Welsh Room during the Selectmen's meeting. What happened between Weisler and Szeker is perhaps a microcosm of the problem that plagues both the town and the Seashore. She perhaps didn't listen, wasn't respectful and he perhaps could have taken some other action to gain her compliance. Does that make her a dangerous dissident or him a storm trooper? Depends on who you are talking to.
Residents feel disenfranchised, unlistened to and see themselves as the target of overzealous law enforcement on the part of park rangers. The rangers do not understand the reaction that they get, not only in the park but anywhere they happen to be in Provincetown if they are in uniform. They, though they do not readily express their feelings about the subject in the form of a complaint, are puzzled by the hostility, concerned about the press coverage surrounding their more controversial interactions and sensitive to charges that they are heavy handed when they believe they are making good efforts to be just the opposite.
It's a problem with a long history that's reminiscent of moonshiners and government agents, each with a wary regard for the other's abilities in the cat-and-mouse game of elusion and capture for breaking a law that didn't used to be a law.
To try to understand both sides better, I began going out with rangers on patrol last fall. Most trips are uneventful and low key but the feelings of friction still exist at the Cove. Last weekend I did a tour with Weisler, checking the roads and parking lots as well as some back roads, and followed that up with a brief stint with Ann Dunlavy, who was handing out maps of the improved trail through the dunes to Herring Cove. Stationed at the beginning of the dune trail, Dunlavy sometimes gives out water as well as info to the endless stream of men and women on their way to and from the beach.
Dressed in a volunteer uniform, I reasonably passed for a ranger and got the same treatment and reaction normally reserved for the green and gray clad force. People coming over the hill and seeing us visibly stiffened but smiled and hello-ed back to us and took our maps.
Dunlavy is in the interpretive side of rangering. She wears no gun, no cuffs, no Mace, in fact no accessories at all.
On the other side of the coin is Weisler and Norah Martinez, head ranger for the North District. They are protection rangers and are federally-trained law enforcement officers with barely any room left on their belts for another item. Both have worked in a variety of parks, Martinez most recently in Angeles National Forest, possibly the most dangerous park to work in due to crime outreach from nearby Los Angeles. Weisler transferred here from Louisiana where he worked a bayou park outside of New Orleans.
What the rangers have in common with the tourists is that they have all chosen to come here. Weisler talks about 'the resource,' meaning the park and the importance of protecting it while allowing people to enjoy it. Both he and Martinez do not understand the reaction park visitors (often local residents) have to them. In any other park, Weisler says, people are glad to see you, talk to you, ask you questions. Here, he says, that's not always the case, as on Herring Cove.
Martinez met me at my post with Dunlavy and we headed out on foot over the dunes to the site of many recent confrontations. Ticket book in hand, Martinez smiled and spoke to everyone we met. She told a man with a leashless dog about the regulation and warned a too-pink man to put on some sunblock. All eyes on the crowded beach followed us as we headed in the direction of the parking lot. A dog barked at our passing, triggering comments from beachgoers about how smart the dog was. Despite Martinez' efforts at civility, the crowd was decidedly cool, if not hostile, and it was difficult not to feel somewhat tense and defensive myself.
We stopped to talk to two topless women from Montreal, and Martinez gave them each warning tickets. While we were getting the information from them, nearby women began to shout and ask if they were getting a ticket. They stood up and only returned to their blanket when they learned we were writing a warning. At that point, one of the women recognized me, and it's hard to know if the situation would have gotten worse otherwise. Certainly, it is not uncommon for rangers to be called names and taunted by beach goers at Herring Cove.
The crux of the Cove problem is in the anti-nudity regulation, the only such rule in any national park. It was enacted as an environmental protection action when a nude beach in Truro caught national attention in the mid-'70s and subsequently attracted droves of lookers that accelerated the erosion rate from three feet a year of dune loss to 16 feet. And, while full nudity and toplessness are different, both are treated the same under law.
The Seashore's superintendent and chief ranger have met with Police Chief Robert Anthony to find out about Provincetown's successful community policing efforts. Anthony says he has called on Boston police captain Al Sweeney, who instructed the Provincetown force, and Sweeney has signed on to help the park approach its law enforcement in a different way.
'They [the park] have to do a better job with the customer service element of law enforcement,' Anthony says. 'If you don't do a good job in customer service, then communications and perceptions break down. When you are in enforcement, you have a vision of catching all the lawbreakers and putting them in jail. In reality, 99 percent of the people you come in contact with are not breaking the law.'
There are many users in the park with different needs and different regulations to cope with. Anthony says that starting from an even keel is important since an officer can not back up.
'Community policing is a philosophy and mindset,' Anthony says and adds about the park's first tentative steps in that direction, 'I'll be with them all the way.'
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Out to Sea
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Jul 24th, 1997