Turn on, tune in and get better?

Hallucinogens and other street drugs are increasingly being studied for legitimate therapeutic uses, such as helping patients deal with post-traumatic stress disorder, addiction, chronic pain, depression and even terminal illness.

By Melissa Healy, Los Angeles Times

UCLA psychiatrist Charles Grob [pictured at right] led a team that found psilocybin improved the mood of patients with “existential anxiety” related to advanced-stage cancer. (Mark Boster, Los Angeles Times / November 15, 2011)the active ingredient in "magic mushrooms" — could help with depression or anxiety following a grim diagnosis.

Janeen Delany describes herself as an "old hippie" who's smoked plenty of marijuana. But she never really dabbled in hallucinogens — until two years ago, at the age of 59.

A diagnosis of incurable leukemia had knocked the optimism out of the retired plant nurserywoman living in Phoenix. So she signed up for a clinical trial to test whether psilocybin —

Delaney swallowed a blue capsule of psilocybin in a cozy office at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. She donned a blindfold, a blood pressure cuff and a headset playing classical music. With two researchers at her side, she embarked on a six-hour journey into altered consciousness that she calls "the single most life-changing experience I've ever had."

What a long, strange trip it's been. In the 1960s and '70s, a rebellious generation embraced hallucinogens and a wide array of street drugs to "turn on, tune in and drop out." Almost half a century later, magic mushrooms, LSD, Ecstasy and ketamine are being studied for legitimate therapeutic uses. Scientists believe these agents have the potential to help patients with post-traumatic stress disorder, drug or alcohol addiction, unremitting pain or depression and the existential anxiety of terminal illness.

"Scientifically, these compounds are way too important not to study," said Johns Hopkins psychopharmacologist Roland Griffiths, who conducted the psilocybin trial.

In their next incarnation, these drugs may help the psychologically wounded tune in to their darkest feelings and memories and turn therapy sessions into heightened opportunities to learn and heal.

"We're trying to break a social mind-set saying these are strictly drugs of abuse," said Rick Doblin, a public policy expert who founded the Multidisciplinary Assn. for Psychedelic Studies in 1986 to encourage research on therapeutic uses for medical marijuana and hallucinogens. "It's not the drug but how the drug is used that matters."

Regulators and medical researchers remain wary. But among at least some experts at the National Institutes of Health and the Food and Drug Administration, the shift in attitude "has been dramatic," Doblin said.

Researchers explored the usefulness of hallucinogenic agents as an adjunct to psychotherapy in the 1950s and '60s. But allegations that hallucinogens were used in government-funded "mind control" efforts, freewheeling experimentation by proponents like Dr. Timothy Leary, and the drugs' appeal to a generation in revolt quashed legitimate research for decades.

The thaw has been slow in coming. In 2008, Griffiths co-wrote a report in the Journal of Psychopharmacology comparing psilocybin with a placebo for people dealing with incurable diseases. Psilocybin resulted in "mystical experiences having substantial and sustained personal meaning and spiritual significance," according to the study, the first since 1972 to explore a hallucinogen's therapeutic value.

In January, a team led by UCLA psychiatrist Charles Grob reported in Archives of General Psychiatry that psilocybin improved the mood of patients with "existential anxiety" related to advanced-stage cancer. The benefits lasted at least three months.

Janeen Delany is a typical case: The insights she gleaned during her encounter with psilocybin continue to shape her attitudes toward life and death.

Delany said her "trip" awakened a deep and reassuring sense of "knowing." She came to see the universe and everything in it as interconnected. As the music in her headphones reached a crescendo, she held her breath and realized it would OK — no, really easy — not to breathe anymore. She sensed there was nothing more she needed to know and therefore nothing she needed to fear about dying.

And that, paradoxically, has allowed her to live.

"When you take the veil of fear away from your life, you can see and experience everything in such a present way," she said. "I don't have to know what the future is. Every day is the day of days."

Fighting addiction

Such mystical insights are central in another potential use for psilocybin — as an addiction treatment. Griffiths is conducting a pilot study combining psilocybin with cognitive behavioral therapy to help smokers quit. Four people have completed the program, and so far none has returned to smoking, Griffiths says.

At the University of Arizona in Tucson, addiction specialist Dr. Michael P. Bogenschutz has proposed a clinical trial to test whether psilocybin can help ease alcohol dependence. If the NIH agrees to fund the study, it would be the first instance in decades of government financial support for a trial involving any drug of abuse.

Psilocybin's effect on the brain can be described, if not explained. It increases the activity of serotonin, a chemical that affects mood. Brain networks associated with emotions are highly active in the presence of psilocybin, as are structures involved in higher reasoning and judgment, MRI scans show.

Griffiths says that subjects routinely describe their psilocybin experience as one that "helps reorganize their thinking." For those facing death, that can bring new perspective on loved ones, on life and on what lies beyond; for those stymied by addiction, it can cut the addictive substance down to size. "Their enslavement to cigarette smoking will be almost funny," Griffiths said.

Psilocybin isn't the only drug on the cusp of a medical renaissance. Ketamine, best known as "Special K," has shown promise as a fast-acting antidepressant. It induces euphoria, hallucinations and "out of body" experiences when smoked or snorted. When administered intravenously at low doses, it can lift symptoms of deep depression in a matter of hours.

Ketamine's use in anesthesia has made it easier for researchers to study. They suspected its influence on a neurochemical called NMDA would make it a good antidepressant, since NMDA's activity is altered in people with depression.

In case reports, severely depressed patients who got ketamine in preparation for electroconvulsive shock therapy showed improvements in mood (even when the shock therapy failed), and several small clinical trials have demonstrated its fast-acting abilities. The findings indicate that for suicidal patients who can't afford to wait weeks or months for a standard antidepressant to take effect, ketamine could be a valuable rescue drug.

LSD may also be on the road to legitimacy. A 2006 study in Neurology surveyed people who used the drug to cope with persistent cluster headaches and found that it cleared them up and made them less frequent in most cases.

The results prompted Dr. John Halpern of Harvard Medical School's McLean Hospital to test a nonhallucinogenic LSD analog from the vaults of pharmaceutical giant Sandoz. At a research meeting in June, Halpern reported that 2-Bromo-LSD reduced the number of daily cluster headaches in six sufferers who participated in a pilot study.

Treating trauma

War has also created openings for the rehabilitation of some of these drugs. Ecstasy is a case in point.

The drug — whose chemical name is methylene dioxy methamphetamine, or MDMA — was patented in 1912 by Merck & Co. Its psychoactive properties prompted doctors to prescribe it for their patients; one pharmacologist called it "penicillin for the soul." But in 1988, the Drug Enforcement Agency declared MDMA a Schedule 1 controlled substance with high potential for abuse. Psychotherapists stopped prescribing it or continued to do so furtively.

On the street, Ecstasy has a reputation for dissolving anxiety and fear, suppressing social inhibition and enhancing one's willingness to trust others. PTSD sufferers avoid reminders of their pain or shut down at the prospect of facing it. A dose of Ecstasy appears to help these patients revisit their traumas and reflect on them without fear.

"It can connect people more with their emotions without them feeling they'll be overwhelmed by them," said psychiatrist Michael Mithoefer of Charleston, S.C., a clinical investigator for the Multidisciplinary Assn. for Psychedelic Studies.

Mithoefer has received FDA permission to test whether Ecstasy can help Iraq and Afghanistan veterans overcome their PTSD when used during psychotherapy sessions; six veterans have enrolled in the study. In an earlier clinical trial, Ecstasy helped 10 of 12 women recover from PTSD stemming from child sexual trauma. Only 2 out of 8 women who took a placebo had similar results, Mithoefer reported last year in the Journal of Psychopharmacology.

Ecstasy's reputation for enhancing trust has clear roots in its biological effect. Using brain scans, Columbia University psychologist Gillinder Bedi found that subjects who took MDMA showed heightened activity in a brain region associated with processing rewards and depressed activity in the amygdala — a source of fear reactions. In animals, MDMA boosts the hormone oxytocin, which promotes trust, sociability and interpersonal attachment.

A drug can't be dismissed because of a dangerous reputation or colorful history, Bedi said, if trials demonstrate that it is safe and can benefit patients.

New life

Janeen Delany said her psilocybin experience had added life to her years — and perhaps years to her life.

Every three months, she gets her white blood cells checked. With her form of leukemia, those counts are expected to rise steadily as the disease progresses. But in June 2009, four months after her psilocybin session, they went down. Every three months since, they have retreated further, leading two of her three doctors to declare her in remission.

Delany said her psychological improvement may have helped reverse her fortunes. Her lead oncologist is skeptical, but her neurologist is not so quick to dismiss the link. One should never underestimate "the healing power of the psyche," he told her.

Whatever, Delany said. Remission is beside the point.

"The fear is gone. It's all about living," she said. "The big stuff? Sheeesh — it's handled."

melissa.healy@latimes.com

Copyright © 2011, Los Angeles Times

Police Arrest More Than 700 Protesters on Brooklyn Bridge

October 1, 2011, 4:29 pm

Police Arrest More Than 700 Protesters on Brooklyn Bridge

By AL BAKER, COLIN MOYNIHAN and SARAH MASLIN NIR

Updated, 1:23 p.m. Sunday | In a tense showdown above the East River, the police arrested more than 700 demonstrators from the Occupy Wall Street protests who took to the roadway as they tried to cross the Brooklyn Bridge on Saturday afternoon.

The police said it was the marchers’ choice that led to the enforcement action.

“Protesters who used the Brooklyn Bridge walkway were not arrested,” Paul J. Browne, the chief spokesman for the New York Police Department, said. “Those who took over the Brooklyn-bound roadway, and impeded vehicle traffic, were arrested.”

But many protesters said they believed the police had tricked them, allowing them onto the bridge, and even escorting them partway across, only to trap them in orange netting after hundreds had entered.

“The cops watched and did nothing, indeed, seemed to guide us onto the roadway,” said Jesse A. Myerson, a media coordinator for Occupy Wall Street who marched but was not arrested.

A video on the YouTube page of a group called We Are Change shows some of the arrests.

Around 1 a.m., the first of the protesters held at the Midtown North Precinct on West 54th Street were released. They were met with cheers from about a half-dozen supporters who said they had been waiting as a show of solidarity since 6 p.m. for around 75 people they believed were held there. Every 10 to 15 minutes, they trickled out into a night far chillier than the afternoon on the bridge, each clutching several thin slips of paper — their summonses, for violations like disorderly conduct and blocking vehicular traffic. The first words many spoke made the group laugh: all variations on “I need a cigarette.”

David Gutkin, 24, a Ph.D. student in musicology at Columbia University, was among the first released. He said that after being corralled and arrested on the bridge, he was put into plastic handcuffs and moved to what appeared to be a Metropolitan Transportation Authority bus, along with dozens of other protesters, for over four hours. They headed first into Brooklyn and then to several locations in Manhattan before arriving at the 54th Street precinct.

Men and women had been held separately, two or three to a cell. A few said they had been zip-tied the entire time. “We sang ‘This Little Light of Mine,’ ” said Annie Day, 34, who when asked her profession said, “I’m a revolutionary.” Ms. Day was wearing laceless Converse sneakers: police had required the removal of all laces as well as her belt. She rethreaded them on the pavement while a man who identified himself as a lawyer took each newly freed person’s name.

None of the protesters interviewed knew if the bridge march was planned or a spontaneous decision by the crowd. But all insisted that the police had made no mention that the roadway was off limits. Ms. Day and several others said that police officers had walked beside the crowd until the group reached about midway, then without warning began to corral the protesters behind orange nets.

Sarah Maslin Nir for The New York TimesBrett Wolfson-Stofko, center, ran through a line of cheering supporters after being released from the Midtown South Precinct in Manhattan.

The scene outside the Midtown South Precinct on West 35th Street around 2 a.m. was far more jovial. Only about 15 of the rumored 57 people had been released, but about a dozen waiting supporters danced jigs in the street to keep warm. They snacked on pizza. One even drank Coors Light beer, stashing the empty bottles under a parked police van. When a fresh protester was released, he or she ran through a gantlet formed by the waiting group, like a football player bursting onto the field during the Super Bowl. “This is so much better than prison!” one cheered.

“It’s cold,” said Rebecca Solow, 27, rubbing her arms as she waited on the sidewalk, “but every time one is released, it warms you up.”

The march on the bridge had come to a head shortly after 4 p.m., as the 1,500 or so marchers reached the foot of the Brooklyn-bound car lanes of the bridge, just east of City Hall.

In their march north from Zuccotti Park in Lower Manhattan — headquarters for the last two weeks of a protest movement against what demonstrators call inequities in the economic system — they had stayed on the sidewalks, forming a long column of humanity penned in by officers on scooters.

Where the entrance to the bridge narrowed their path, some marchers, including organizers, stuck to the generally agreed-upon route and headed up onto the wooden walkway that runs between and about 15 feet above the bridge’s traffic lanes.

But about 20 others headed for the Brooklyn-bound roadway, said Christopher T. Dunn of the New York Civil Liberties Union, who accompanied the march. Some of them chanted “take the bridge.” They were met by a handful of high-level police supervisors, who blocked the way and announced repeatedly through bullhorns that the marchers were blocking the roadway and that if they continued to do so, they would be subject to arrest.

There were no physical barriers, though, and at one point, the marchers began walking up the roadway with the police commanders in front of them – seeming, from a distance, as if they were leading the way. The Chief of Department Joseph J. Esposito, and a horde of other white-shirted commanders, were among them.

Ozier Muhammad/The New York TimesPolice secured some protesters’ hands with plastic ties.

After allowing the protesters to walk about a third of the way to Brooklyn, the police then cut the marchers off and surrounded them with orange nets on both sides, trapping hundreds of people, said Mr. Dunn. As protesters at times chanted “white shirts, white shirts,” officers began making arrests, at one point plunging briefly into the crowd to grab a man.

The police said that those arrested were taken to several police stations and were being charged with disorderly conduct, at a minimum. A police spokesman said some protesters — mostly those without identification — were still “going through the system” late Sunday morning.

A freelance reporter for The New York Times, Natasha Lennard, was among those arrested. She was later released.

Mr. Dunn said only people at the very front could hear the warning, and he was concerned that those in the back “would have had no idea that it was not O.K. to walk on the roadway of the bridge.” Mr. Browne said that people who were in the rear of the crowd that may not have heard the warnings were not arrested and were free to leave.

Earlier in the afternoon, as many as 10 Department of Correction buses, big enough to hold 20 prisoners apiece, had been dispatched from Rikers Island in what one law enforcement official said was “a planned move on the protesters.”

Etan Ben-Ami, 56, a psychotherapist from Brooklyn who was up on the walkway, said that the police seemed to make a conscious decision to allow the protesters to claim the road. “They weren’t pushed back,” he said. “It seemed that they moved at the same time.”

Mr. Ben-Ami said he left the walkway and joined the crowd on the road. “It seemed completely permitted,” he said. “There wasn’t a single policeman saying ‘don’t do this’.”

He added: “We thought they were escorting us because they wanted us to be safe.” He left the bridge when he saw officers unrolling the nets as they prepared to make arrests. Many others who had been on the roadway were allowed to walk back down to Manhattan.

Mr. Browne said that the police did not trick the protesters into going onto the bridge.

“This was not a trap,” he said. “They were warned not to proceed.”

In related protests elsewhere in the country, 25 people were arrested in Boston for trespassing while protesting Bank of America’s foreclosure practices, according to Eddy Chrispin, a spokesman for the Boston Police Department. The protesters were on the grounds and blocking the entrance to the building, Mr. Chrispin said.

Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg, speaking briefly before marching in the Pulaski Day Parade in Manhattan on Sunday, also defended the police’s actions.

“The police did exactly what they were supposed to do,” the mayor said, noting that those who march without the city’s permission would continue to get summonses. “It’s very easy to get a permit,” he added.

As the morning wore on, Zuccotti Park had the hallmarks of Sundays the world over. There was brunch: someone had donated bagels and lox. There was the morning paper: protesters who had camped for the night read the self-published newspaper “The Occupied Wall Street Journal,” some snuggled the metallic blankets usually worn by marathon runners. One man brushed his teeth without water, standing up.

The scene was largely quiet, save a man in a fedora freestyle rapping with drummers in the east corner of the park. Many of those who had been arrested returned at about 3 a.m. to a heroes reception, said Rick DeVoe, 54, from East Hampton, Mass. They were sleeping in.

“It’s not always at a fever pitch,” Mr. DeVoe said. “It’s not easy sleeping out, it’s not easy going to jail.”

Quiet political discussions continued around the sleepers. One woman gave a pep talk to what looked like a new recruit. “It’s about taking down systems, it doesn’t matter what you’re protesting,” she said. “Just protest.”

Some tourists wandered in between the makeshift beds and volunteers sweeping up cigarette butts. A man visiting from Virginia and his 4-year-old son snapped photos, as did an elderly couple passing through.

Natasha Lennard, William K. Rashbaum and Elizabeth A. Harris contributed reporting.

Two officers charged with murder, manslaughter in death of homeless man

By Abby Sewell and Richard Winton Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

September 21, 2011, 11:22 a.m.

Two Fullerton police officers have been criminally charged in the violent confrontation that left a homeless man dead, Orange County Dist. Atty. Tony Rackauckas announced Wednesday.

Officer Manuel Ramos [left] has been charged with second-degree murder and involuntary manslaughter in connection with the beating of 37-year-old Kelly Thomas, a homeless schizophrenic man. Officer Jay Cicinelli [right] has been charged with involuntary manslaughter and excessive use of force.

Rackauckas said the department reviewed 151 witness statements, videos of the beating, medical reports and police statements.

The district attorney's office had been awaiting the coroner's determination on the cause of death before deciding whether to file charges.

Officers approached Kelly Thomas on July 5 at the bus depot in downtown Fullerton while responding to a report of someone trying to break into cars. According to witness accounts, Thomas ran when officers attempted to search his bag. Exactly what happened next is unclear, but witnesses said they saw multiple officers hitting Kelly and shooting him with a Taser while he was on the ground.

Officials from the district attorney's office have said they were awaiting toxicology and other test results from the coroner before making a decision on the case. That report was handed over to the district attorney's office Tuesday, but the findings were not made public.

Thomas, a 37-year-old homeless man with schizophrenia, was a regular presence in downtown Fullerton. He died five days after the confrontation, after being removed from life support.

Earlier this month, an attorney representing the Thomas family released hospital records that showed Thomas had tested negative for drugs and alcohol and that the immediate cause of death was "brain death" due to "head trauma" from the incident.

The hospital records released showed that he suffered brain injuries, a shattered nose, a smashed cheekbone, broken ribs and severe internal bleeding. Thomas also had been shocked with a stun gun "multiple" times, including in the left chest near the heart, the records showed.

Thomas' father, Ron, has been pushing the district attorney's office to file charges against the officers, and the case has sparked a furious reaction, including weekly protests outside the police station and a recall campaign against three City Council members.

Redwoods versus red wine

The redwood tree and the wine grapevine are both iconic in Northern California. Two wineries are petitioning the state to let them clear redwoods and Douglas firs to make room for new Pinot Noir vineyards. Environmentalists want the trees protected.

Chris Poehlmann, right, with fellow environmentalist Peter Baye, says: "We are not going to let them rip these trees out by their roots, change the soil chemistry with amendments and develop neighborhoods so that these forests will never grow back." (Louis Sahagun / Los Angeles Times)

By Louis Sahagun and P.J. Huffstutter, Los Angeles Times

August 25, 2011

Reporting from Annapolis, Calif., and Los Angeles—

Two plants have long been iconic to Northern California: the soaring redwood tree and the lush wine grapevine. But should one be sacrificed for the other?

That question is being raised in Sonoma County a few miles from the Pacific and above the fog line, where two large wineries are petitioning the state to allow them to clear 2,000 acres of redwoods and Douglas firs to make room for new Pinot Noir vineyards.

Sonoma County planners say it would be the largest woodland-to-vineyard conversion in California's history and, not surprisingly, it's touched off a debate between fans of the majestic trees and aficionados of the grapes.

On one side are vintners eager to satisfy the public's growing taste for California Pinot Noir, a varietal that has a growing fan base and is part of the post-recession rebound of the state's wine industry.

On the other are environmentalists who want to protect the ecosystem of second-growth forests still recovering from earlier logging and even some winemakers, who are uneasy with the idea of cutting down redwoods to expand their industry's reach.

Codorniu, based in Spain and one of the world's largest wine producers, wants to use the land to expand the grape production of its winery in Napa, called Artesa. Another Napa winery, Premier Pacific Vineyards, wants to cultivate more Pinot Noir grapes and build 60 high-end estates on adjacent lands it already owns, called Preservation Ranch.

In exchange, the developers promise to restore streams, add more than 200 acres to a county park, plant 1 million redwoods and Douglas firs and make other environmental improvements.

Passions are running high among the opposition, though. One environmentalist critical of the project has taken to carrying a giant plywood replica of a chain saw to public meetings of the Sonoma County Board of Supervisors. Chris Poehlmann, a 61-year-old specialist in designing interactive museum exhibits, has also appeared at the meetings dressed as a 7-foot-tall, 40-pound wine bottle.

"We are not going to let them rip these trees out by their roots," Poehlmann said, "change the soil chemistry with amendments and develop neighborhoods so that these forests will never grow back."

Countered Nick Fry, president of the Sonoma County Wine Grape Commission: "This is not a plan to build a mall," he said. "They're talking about growing grapes."

The project is slated for Annapolis, a remote coastal outpost known for its grazing sheep and wildlife, including the endangered steelhead trout, a symbol of the nearby Gualala River, one of the cleanest waterways in California.

The land where developers envision future vineyards is ideal for redwoods and firs but also for the finicky Pinot Noir grape. The days are bright and warm and the nights cool; excellent conditions for growing the thin-skinned grape.

There is an economic draw to the area too. Just as "Napa Valley" on a wine label can command a higher price for a bottle of Cabernet, there is a certain amount of cachet to Pinot Noirs made along the Sonoma Coast.

Tom Adams, a Preservation Ranch official, contends that the project's opponents are exaggerating the effect of converting the land to vineyards and downplaying the benefits. These forests can be cleared and preserved at the same time, he said, to serve the needs of the land and its residents — as well as the corporations' financial interests.

"We are here, first and foremost, because this is a premier location with potential to produce world-class wine," Adams said.

The effort comes just as the state's wine industry is emerging from a slump. After two years of sluggish wine sales and a glut of inventory, consumers are starting to reach for — and spend more on — their favorite varietals.

Domestic wine sales grew 7% in 2010 over the previous year, according to the Wine Institute in San Francisco. And for the first time, American consumers in 2010 bought more wine than the French (though the French still drink far more wine per capita than Americans).

Not surprisingly, U.S. winemakers are seeking to capitalize on the public's renewed interest and hedge their bets by diversifying what they produce. One wine getting attention, particularly among restaurant sommeliers, is Pinot Noir.

A high-end Pinot Noir from Sonoma may not be cheap — but it's often less expensive than a bottle of Cabernet from Napa.

"People want something to drink in a restaurant that they can enjoy and yet still afford. More often, that's a Pinot Noir," said Merry Edwards, owner of a winery in the Sonoma County town of Sebastopol.

But the idea of turning these forest lands into grape farms chills some conservationists.

"I don't see a need for more deforestation to have a great wine economy, because there is a lot of cleared land already available," said Adina Merelender, a UC Berkeley conservation biologist.

"The big issue for us," added Jay Holcomb of the Sierra Club, "is that redwoods-to-vineyards conversions are worse than clear-cutting because they are permanent."

Opponents organized under the banner Friends of the Gualala River have enlisted allies among the Kashia Band of Pomo Indians, who worry that the project would destroy sacred remains scattered throughout the targeted groves.

"I get mad just thinking about the people from far away who can't wait to buy wine from vineyards that would destroy our forests and ancestral lands," said Violet Parrish, a Pomo tribal elder who lives near Annapolis. "We don't want those vineyards, or the fertilizer and pesticides that would pollute water supplies our children will depend upon."

One thing everyone seems to agree on, though, is that Sonoma County, the lead regulatory agency considering the land deal, faces some tough choices when planners take up the issue later this year.

Sonoma County planner David Schiltgen says the project is "controversial from beginning to end."

"They are proposing to completely remove the forest and replace it with vineyards," he said, "at a time when political winds are howling with global deforestation and carbon-sequestration concerns."

louis.sahagun@latimes.com

p.j.huffstutter@latimes.com

Temecula quarry plan meets resistance from neighbors, tribe

The Pechanga Band of Indians and other neighbors object to a plan to dynamite a Temecula mountain and create a massive rock quarry worth billions.

Mark Macarro, tribal chairman of the Pechanga Band of Luiseño Indians, is trying to prevent a quarry proposed for a site that his people consider sacred. The quarry would be about 500 yards from the Pechanga reservation. (Gina Ferazzi, Los Angeles Times / August 11, 2011)

August 15, 2011

By Phil Willon, Los Angeles Times

A boulder-strewn mountain west of the Temecula Valley, created by violent mashing of tectonic plates during the Jurassic Period, holds more than 270 million tons of granite that's become as politically explosive as the dynamite that may eventually blow it to bits.

The ridge is an anonymous landmark for most drivers speeding south on the 15 Freeway toward Escondido, but to the Granite Construction Co., those gray rocks look like money.

The company plans to build a gargantuan rock quarry on the mountain that could supply concrete and asphalt to fast-growing northern San Diego County for the next 75 years.

But the proposed project has riled many in the community, who see it more as a threat to the area's future than an economic boon.

Among others, the project has stirred the ire of the influential Pechanga Band of Luiseño Indians, whose reservation and four-star resort casino lie near the foot of the peak. The proposed quarry is on private, non-reservation land on Pu`éska Mountain, tucked within a series of peaks that the Pechanga Band and other Luiseño people believe is the cradle of creation and place of origin for all Luiseño.

"We're kind of demanding here that our value system is not going to be trod on any longer," said Tribal Chairman Mark Macarro, lamenting that many of the Luiseño's sacred sites outside of tribal lands already have been lost to development.

And the Pechanga Band — which has contributed $351,000 to state politicians and California's Democratic and Republican parties in 2011 alone — is pushing legislation in Sacramento that would, in essence, outlaw rock mines near reservations.

The Pechanga Band's presence adds a twist to usual David-versus-Goliath disputes that play out in many far-flung towns over proposed mines, landfills and prisons, providing a counterweight to the political muscle of Granite Construction, a multimillion-dollar Northern California construction company that contributes generously to local and state politicians.

Adding to the intrigue has been the response by Temecula, one of the most conservative, pro-business nooks of the Inland Empire. The city has spent more than a half a million dollars to nix the project, and even mounted an unsuccessful attempt to annex the quarry site into the city limits.

The quarry's five-year march through Riverside County's permitting process has unleashed furious PR campaigns and counter-campaigns, trumpeting the project as an economic savior or black plague to the recession-flattened region.

The county's planning commission on Monday will hold its fifth hearing on the project, the first of which drew more than 1,000 people. No matter the vote, the 414-acre quarry site will end up with the Riverside County Board of Supervisors, where its fate remains a mystery. And the project will probably end up in court.

Officials with Granite Construction say the rock mine will produce 99 high-paying jobs and twice that number at outside firms that offer support to the mining operation. Company pamphlets also boast that the new rock mine will improve air quality: The local supply of aggregate rock will eliminate the need to haul concrete and asphalt from mines in Corona, Irwindale, Lake Elsinore and the Coachella Valley.

"The emissions and wear and tear on the roads will be lessened significantly," said Granite Co. spokeswoman Karie Reuther. "You'll eliminate 16 million truck miles every year and all the greenhouse gas emissions that go along with that.''

The mining company signed a pact with the South Coast Air Quality Management District to use low-emissions trucks to haul the gravel and sand from the quarry, and to provide constant air monitoring to ensure that hazardous contaminates or particulates don't drift into nearby neighborhoods. The mine will be hidden by a ridge, out of view of both Temecula and traffic on the interstate below, Reuther said.

Temecula City Councilman Jeff Comerchero, who boasts of being pro-business and a developer, dismisses Granite's assertions about the benefits to the local economy and environment.

He said having a mine perched over the city, with dynamite blasting away all day, will cripple Temecula's tourism industry. A study commissioned by the city estimated that the mine would reduce property values by $540 million and cause construction, tourism and retail sales to plummet, costing the region $80 million a year.

Two-thirds of the aggregate mined from the site — which will carve a 1,000-foot-deep hole in the mountain — is expected to be used in San Diego County, adding to Temecula's disenchantment.

"This is critical to the future quality of life to our citizens," Comerchero said. "I have a big problem with them coming in and saying they are doing this to make life better for everybody. It will generate $5 billion during the life of the quarry. That's a lot of incentive to get their project done at all costs."

The Temecula Valley's wineries, school board, homeowners groups and tourism council are opposed.

More than 169 doctors in the region also joined forces against the quarry, concerned that particulates from the continuous blasting would be carried by coastal winds that blow west into the valley every afternoon.

Their gravest concern is crystalline silica dust, a carcinogen that's a common byproduct of granite and other materials. Those fears have not been muted by assurances from the South Coast Air Quality Management District and the company's environmental review that assert that the rock mine would not produce crystalline silica or other hazardous particulates that would endanger nearby neighborhoods.

"We feel it's a chance that we don't want to take," said Temecula pediatrician Daniel Robbins, leader of Physicians Against the Quarry. "We know with some of our patients, even a slight decrease in air quality can cause a problem."

Representatives with Granite Construction say they are trying everything possible to assuage community concerns, including offering to install air monitors at schools and at Temecula City Hall. Reuther said the company will take extraordinary measures to reduce dust from the mine.

Reuther said Granite wasn't aware of the Pechanga Band's objections until about five years into the permitting process. The company was working to address those concerns until a few weeks ago, when it says it learned the tribe was pushing legislation to kill the project.

Pechanga band officials said the tribe raised concerns with county planning officials in 2005, specifically warning about sacred places in the area.

According to the Luiseño story of creation, it was within those mountains where the earth and the sky came together to form the world, and they still are home to the spirits of the first people. The proposed quarry would be on the peak that was the cremation site for the first death, which brought death into the world.

"We're not anti-development. We're not anti-mine, but it's a problem with that particular site," Macarro said. "It's really hard to overstate how important this is in how we view the world."

phil.willon@latimes.com