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The Stand and Fight Club Intends to Bring Back Rural America, to Bring Back the Rights of Rural Americans. In a fresh, vital new “Campaign Coordination 2017” we will:

  • File lawsuits, at least 13, one symbolically for each of our first colonies, to require regulators to follow the law and coordinate with local governments to reach consistency with local policies that protect our forest industries, mill workers, fishermen, miners, ranchers, farmers, water users, nurserymen, dairymen, truckers, recreation uses of OUR LANDS, and the property and personal rights of individual citizens
  • Train citizens to a level of legal knowledge and strategy that will let them “persuade” their local governments to do their duty and exercise their authority to require the regulators to be consistent with local plans, policies and actions
  • Equip citizens with the tools they need to support those local officials and help them through the coordination process in paralegal fashion
  • Teach the constitution and the people’s rights by offering materials and teaching assistance to K1 through 12, in colleges, in community adult classes, through radio and television and news publications—keeping in mind that IF YOU DON’T KNOW YOUR RIGHTS, YOU DON’T HAVE ANY.
  • Keep you advised and up to speed with our progress, and with what the regulators are trying to do to further demolish our God Given liberty.




The Village of Hartland , Wisconsin has invoked coordination with the Food and Drug Administration.  Hartland’s Trustees have insisted that the Food and Drug Administration coordinate with the Village as to regulations that seem to doom the e-liquid “vaping” industry that provides the most effective, safe means of attacking the smoking addiction that leads to 480,000 deaths a year.  Hartland’s Trustees have taken up the cause to try to save an industry vital to its economy and to the health of the people:  Johnson Creek Enterprises which produces the product that safely allows smokers to abandon life threatening cigarettes.  The FDA seems hell bent on destroying Johnson Creek as well as the entire industry through a set of regulations that create an impossible cost for industry survival.  Hartland’s Trustees have decided that they won’t let that happen without a fight.  And it’s a fight of the type encouraged by the President of the United States who happens to be the ultimate supervisor of the Food and Drug Administration.

When the Village invited Food and Drug to attend its hearing,  a spokeswoman for the agency left a voice message that the agency would send a letter addressing the Village Trustees’ “concerns”.   I seriously doubt that sending a letter is the level of coordination that is expected by President Trump. Since taking office he has repeatedly emphasized that control over many aspects of life must be returned to local government.

And the issue taken up by Hartland would seem to be the perfect type issue for local interest and involvement.  After all, smoking addiction strikes at the heart of public health that is a part of life subject to the police powers reserved to the states and local governments by the Tenth Amendment.


Since the Hartland, Wisconsin “coordination” the coordination process has been a topic of broad discussion.  Many call the Hartland approach “novel”, many call it “new”, some call it nonsensical to believe that a federal agency must coordinate with a small village.

But, if and when the Food and Drug Administration wants to know what we mean by “coordination”, our answer should be “why don’t you call the President and ask him?”  Because President Trump obviously knows the term.  He used it repeatedly in an Executive Order issued within the last two weeks.  In the Order directing that all designations under the Antiquities Act be reviewed he used the term four times in a two page order.  He ordered the Secretary of Interior to coordinate with local governments.

And, the order to coordinate is not new to this President.  John Fitzgerald Kennedy ordered all agencies to coordinate with local governments in a Presidential Memorandum on November 10, 1961.  He said he wanted “coordination of government activities outside of Washington significantly strengthened” in order to bring about a closer relationship with local governments on “economic problems, natural resources development, protection of equal rights and urban development efforts.”

Ronald Reagan ordered an Intergovernmental Review of Federal Programs in 1982, and directed all agencies to adopt “processes or refine processes for State and local elected officials to review and coordinate proposed Federal financial assistance and direct Federal development”.  He ordered the agencies to coordinate with local governments “as early in the program planning cycle as is reasonably feasible to explain specific plans and actions”, and to “make efforts” to reach consistency with local  plans and actions, and where that is legally impossible “explain the bases for …decision in a timely manner.”

Bill Clinton issued Executive Order 13132 in 1999  that contained the order to coordinate with local government.  Why?  Because, said the President

“The nature of our constitutional system encourages a healthy diversity in the public policies adopted by the people of the several states according to their own conditions, needs, and desires.  In the search for enlightened public policy, individual states and communities are free to experiment with a variety of approaches to public  issues.  One-size-fits-all approaches to public policy problems can inhibit the creation of effective solutions to those problems.”

He said further that “policies of the national government should recognize the responsibility of—and should encourage opportunities for—individuals, families, neighborhoods, local governments, and private associations to achieve their personal, social, and economic objectives through cooperative effort.”  To that end, he ordered all federal agencies to coordinate with local governments, and where national standards are being developed he ordered the agencies to “consult with appropriate state and local officials in developing those standards.”

And, President Obama ordered coordination by every agency with local governments in an executive order issued in June, 2011.

So, when an agency spokesperson says “we don’t know what coordination means” or when he or she asks local government “what do you mean by coordination”, perhaps the answer should be “why don’t you ask the President who supervises you what he meant when he ordered you to coordinate.”

Every one of the Presidential orders directed a process that was mandated by Congress to every federal agency by the National Environmental Policy Act in 1969.  That act orders every federal agency to enter into the coordination process regarding every “major federal action”, and issuance of regulations is considered a “major federal action”.  So, regardless of what subject is being regulated, when an agency begins to develop a regulation or set of regulations, coordination is necessary.

Some have said that the coordination process is only available for land issues.  But that simply is not so.  The National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) makes it clear that it applies to  protect local governments and their citizens regarding all aspects of “man” and “his” environment, not just the natural resources of the environment.  Congress opens the act with a declaration of national policy “to encourage productive and enjoyable harmony between man and his environment” in order to “stimulate the health and welfare of man.”  In order to better provide for the public health, the Act created the Council on Environmental Quality which has defined the “human environment” as including all aspects of life: “ecological, aesthetic, historic, cultural, economic, social, [and] health”.

So, when Hartland invokes coordination regarding the “deeming regulations” which restrict an effective alternative to smoking that leads to death, it is invoking the process in precisely the situation anticipated by NEPA.  When invited to attend the Hartland hearing, Food and Drug said they were unable to make anyone available to come to the meeting but would send a letter addressing Hartland’s “concerns”.

We will see whether sending a letter is the degree of coordination expected by FDA’s President who as recently as last week said  he would continue the effort to return to the people the decisions important to their lives—taking them from the hands of Washington, DC “bureaucrats”.  If my experiences over the last twenty five years are any indication, sending a letter will not be the answer.  The state of Texas and the federal EPA thought writing a letter would suffice when four small towns with a population of around 6,000 invoked coordination over the first leg of the NAFTA Superhighway—but after 24 months of coordinated badgering by the towns, the Trans Texas Corridor was abandoned.

Maybe the Philistines should have sent a letter rather than Goliath?



           Unsung hero of rural America

Fred Kelly Grant instructs local officials how to beat environmental nannies


By Kathy Hoekstra – – Thursday, April 13, 2017


While President Trump and Congress tackle federal regulations and the agencies that promulgate them, Fred Kelly Grant is quietly doing the same — and succeeding — with the most powerful weapon you’ve likely never heard of.

It’s called “coordination” — tucked into the National Environmental Policy Act by Congress in 1976, the provision requires federal agencies to coordinate with local officials before implementing new rules, so the intentions and expectations are consistent at every level of government.

“Local policy and local plans are what drive the economy,” Mr. Grant said. “Under the coordination law, the agency doesn’t just come to the table and talk and walk away. They have to try to reach consistency with local government. That’s the key to it and that’s why it works, and every other process doesn’t.”

Not even Mr. Trump can make a difference without local help, according to Mr. Grant.

“Anybody that thinks the president of the United States drives the economy is living in an Alice in Wonderland world. He doesn’t. He can set the tone, but nothing changes from the top. It all has to change from the bottom,” Mr. Grant said. “And that’s where local government, with coordination, could get the agencies to the table with them and begin to make change.”

Mr. Grant, a longtime attorney who lives in Idaho, discovered the rule in the early 1990s during the Clinton administration’s “Cattle Free by ‘93” campaign to reduce grazing on federal lands. A rancher friend asked him for help in fending off the Bureau of Land Management’s (BLM) efforts to cut such grazing by 45 percent in southwest Idaho’s Owyhee County.

Considering around 76 percent of the county’s 5 million acres are federally owned and ranching is the primary economic producer, the move would have put more than 100 of the county’s 140 ranchers out of business.

“I said to my friend, ‘If the federal government wants you off their land, you’re going to be put off. There’s nothing I can do.’ “

Mr. Grant heard about coordination at a conference on property rights, and looked it up.

“I didn’t know about it. I worked for two governors and I had never come across it,” Mr. Grant recalled. “As I read it, I thought, ‘This can’t be. Congress didn’t leave this loophole.’ And the more I read, the more I realized it was not a loophole. It was intended and had been used successfully by counties four times in the past.”

The BLM had never coordinated with county officials as required by federal law. So Mr. Grant told the ranchers that with the statute, he could hold the feds at bay for two years — long enough for the BLM to find another way to get cattle off federal land.

Mr. Grant was wrong.

“The ranchers are still there, they’re still raising livestock, they’re still all in business and we beat the BLM,” he said. “We got rid of six different district managers because they broke the law. We got rid of two state directors because they broke the law, and today managers of the BLM drive 140 miles round trip once a month to sit down and meet with three county commissioners of Owyhee County, Idaho.”

Since then, Mr. Grant has used coordination to beat back not only the BLM, but the Environmental Protection Agency, the U.S. Forest Service, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the Departments of Interior, Agriculture and Homeland Security, and the Army Corps of Engineers.

He has also worked with the Americans Stewards of Liberty, which trains local governments in the coordination process, helped persuade the American Legislative Exchange Council to adopt a model coordination ordinance for local governments, and launched the Stand up and Fight Club, which aims to restore and protect the rights of rural Americans.

Now, he’s taking on the Food and Drug Administration.

With Mr. Grant’s help, the village of Hartland, Wis., is using the coordination statute to fight the Food and Drug Administration’s (FDA) 2016 tobacco rule that deems liquid nicotine products such as e-cigarettes as tobacco products. The rule includes an expensive premarket approval process, which the vaping and e-cigarette industry says will wipe out 99 percent of the nation’s businesses.

Given that one of the town’s biggest economic drivers is a vaping shop, the village adopted a resolution calling for coordination with the FDA on the development and implementation of the rule.

At 83, Mr. Grant has no plans to slow down.

“Not as long as I can stand and walk and talk. I’m tempted all the time to retire,” he said. “But I truly believe in this nation and I think there are too few people who understand and believe in the core principle of the federal republic, and if we lose that, I believe we lose what makes the Constitution the most perfect instrument of government that’s ever been created.”

By using the federal government’s statute to fight its own agencies to protect private property and enterprise, Fred Kelly Grant is an unsung hero.

  • Kathy Hoekstra is the national regulatory reporter for



48 years ago this morning, at just this hour, 6:30 am in Baltimore, I walked outside the Eastern District Police Station to get a breath of fresh air, and even the pungent smell of smoke and the sound of multiple sirens—with the distinctive sounds of fire engines, ambulances and police cruisers clear—was even an improvement over the stifling heat and constant noise inside.


Four days previous, on Thursday April 4, Dr. King had been assassinated in Memphis at the Lorraine Motel.  We had gone through a nervous day on Friday and I had attended three different meetings with my boss Charles Moylan the State’s Attorney of Baltimore, his Chief Deputy George Helinski, and my good friend Chief of Trials Howard Cardin concerning precautions against uprisings.  We went to mayor Tommy D’Alesandro’s office, the Police Commissioner’s office (colonel Donald Pomeleau), and to the Attorney General’s office (Frances Burch) and heard plans for mobilizing forces if it became necessary.  Governor Spiro Agnew had put the National Guard under Adjutant General Gelston and 500 state policeman on alert and standby.  My boss had gone to other meetings with the Chief Judge of the Municipal Court, Sewell Lamdin and the City Solicitor George Russell regarding a prosecutor’s response to mass arrests.  In Maryland, one arrested had to appear before a Municipal Court judge within a few hours for his initial appearance, and the specter of mass arrests had to be considered.


But, Friday went well, but uneasy.  A memorial service was held at noon and about 3 or 400 people attended as I remember.  My friends Bobby Fertitta and Howard Cardin and I went down there at Charley’s request and we saw nothing that would tell us that hell on the streets would break out on the week-end.


By Saturday morning full scale rioting was occurring in Washington DC just less than 50 miles down the highway, but no signs of that kind of violence in Baltimore.  I was to paint the new nursery for son Andrew who was just less than one year old, so around noon on Saturday Lodice and Andrew and I went to Sears on North Avenue at Harford Road to  get paint.  We had lunch at a favorite crab cake place near there and I saw no evidence of trouble, even though it was well in the center of a Black community in East Baltimore.


Later into the evening, I was still painting and listening to the radio broadcasts from around the nation as riots broke out in city after city.  Then, Eddie Fenton of the CBS radio station in Baltimore came on with a bulletin that arrests had been made in the Eastern and Western Police Districts in Baltimore for rock throwing attacks and broken windows.  At about 7 pm Charley called and asked me to get ready to be at the Eastern District Police station the next morning to take over handling early arrests; he said the Eastern had the most action right then and he would get me two or three assistants to help move the cases.  We talked about how to handle the arrests, realizing that paper work might be scarce if a riot actually began.  H said he would get back to me.  Just before midnight he called again, he had just been in a meeting at the Command center that had been established by the Police and State Police.  He said the Eastern jail holding cells were already full so I needed to be there at 7am the next morning to get things lined up—a judge would be there by 8:30 am to start initial appearances, so arrestees could be moved on to the city jail.  I asked if my car would be safe over at Eastern and he said a police car would pick me up.


So, at 6:30 am on Palm Sunday, a police cruiser from Eastern picked me up, and the officers told me en route that it was like a “war zone” near the station house.  Both had served in Viet Nam, so knew what the term meant.  As we drove across the high ground on the North end of the city, I could see plumes of smoke rising in at least twenty places in the District.  The police scanner crackled with calls for assistance, fires breaking out, people down and hurt.  Three people were already dead, and all the plate glass windows had been broken out of the Sears store we had been in at noon the day before.  The store had been looted and firebombs had exploded within it and throughout the block around it.  The crab cake place had been ransacked and nearly destroyed.


When we pulled into the station yard, it looked like a military compound from the movies—–officers in riot gear, defendants being shuffled around in shackles, and an overpowering rumble of noise, the old familiar “ummmmmmm  ummmmmmmmmm” that was present whenever a large group was unhappy, and that was pierced with screams and yells.


I met with Judge Broccolino to set our path for the morning.  At that point all the defendants were “papered” and the officers in charge had the paper work even if the arresting officers were out on the street.  So, we decided that we would proceed on the paper work, if the offense was just a curfew violation ( the sundown curfew had been imposed the night before) and there was no officer present, the defendant would have a date set for appearance and released.  If the charge was violence or any action misdemeanor based the defendant would be bound over for preliminary hearing, a bail would be set and in lieu of bail he would be sent to the city jail.  We expected we could have the holding cells emptied in a couple of hours.  And we did.  But we could never get them emptied because there more arrestees coming in than we could handle in court.


At about 9:30 am I called Lodice and asked her to please not go to Mass at our regular church, it was too close to the Eastern, to please just go to the church right up our street at York and Belvedere roads in North Baltimore. She asked about dinner and I said I should be able to be home by 3 when she had planned.  I also asked her to have our friends the Winchesters to take a cab that I would pay for rather than she pick them up as planned.  They lived too near the action going on over in the Western District.


By 1:00 pm it was clear I was going nowhere for dinner.  Charley had sent reinforcements, but it was now taking four of us to keep up with the masses being brought in.  And, now often the papers showing the charge and place of violation were not getting to  the station with the arrestees.  So, we were handling cases blindly—gathering what hearsay we could from other officers in the station, and bluffing the arrestees in order to try to get from them what they had done.  Our goal by that time was to keep them moving out of the station house and to the city jail to keep the holding cells available for new arrests.


By 5:00 pm we were on our third judge, our fifth chili dog courtesy of the wives of police officers and our seventh gallon of coffee and cokes.  And, the arrestees were more than ever before during the day.  Things got worse and worse until about midnight when we caught up, and had only three defendants in the cells.  I thought maybe I was just a little while from going home for awhile at least.  I had kept up with the news about our neighborhood through the officers and knew that so far there was nothing amiss in north Baltimore.  But, neighbors had taken in Lodice and Andrew and Peg and Foxie Winchester, and the neighborhood had kind of bunkered in.  Mr. Deller had gotten out his old handgun, said the bullets were green but they would be useful maybe in giving someone gangrene if he had to shoot. I laughed maybe for the first time, although as the next few days unfolded, it became survival mode to make humor out of not funny things.


Just about the time I was talking to the newly arrived judge about leaving the job to the younger assistants who had arrived, Charley called and said he needed to send me to the Western District where massive arrests had just taken place after a killing and five firebombs had exploded. He said the National Guard was now fully deployed and in charge and federal military had been brought or was about to be brought in from North Carolina, special troops trained in riot control.  So, off I went in a police car to take over at Western where I was joined by a good, solid hand in Steve Harris one of my favorite comrades.  When we got within a block of the station house, a rock or something hard hit the windshield and cracked it and another hit the window next to me and broke it through, scratching my cheek as the rock came through.  And, as we pulled into the lot, I saw two military tanks standing at the gate to the lot where a large crowd of very angry people stood yelling and waving their arms.

At 2:00 am I walked into that station house where the cells had long been jammed and now handcuffed, shackled people sat on the floors, some bandaged and bleeding.  A judge had just arrived, I told him how we had handled things at Eastern and away we went.  By 5:00 am we had the halls emptied and the cells were full but not jammed.  By 8:00 we were moving defendants out nearly as fast as they were being brought in, but the arrests were not declining, and virtually every minute officers were arriving with loads of arrestees.  Officers were now confining those arrested as best they could in trucks or paddy wagons on the street until the drivers had a load that they then took to the station house.  That way most of the officers did not have to leave the streets.  But it also meant that our “blind” efforts increased where we really did not know what the people were charged with.  Fortunately, for the most part if there was any violence involved, the arresting officers would have told the transporting drivers who told us and we, and the court acted on that hearsay.


Over 5800 people were arrested in Baltimore during the five day period between Saturday and Good Friday.  It became so overbearing by afternoon on Monday, Charley came from a meeting with the Chief Judge and said that I was retiring to the Court House where the supreme Bench Circuit level judges were going to sit as Municipal courts and prisoners would be bused to the court house where we had multiple court rooms and judges to handle the crowds.


From that time through Thursday, we were on twenty four hour duty in the court house.  Officers and guardsmen would bring a school bus load of prisoners into a court room, they would be processed and put back on the bus to go to the jail, or released.  By Tuesday morning, the block around the Courthouse was ringed with school buses in line; as one would come out of the courthouse and board an empty bus, a full bus would pull forward and its load would go in.  At some point during the week Charley said that he had images that one day, months into the future, like the Flying Dutchman, we would discover a school bus of defendants wandering through the streets waiting for a place in line, not knowing the riots were over.  What he referred to was the fact that when the curbs of the entire block had been filled with waiting buses, the new buses arriving had to drive around the streets until there was a place for them.


The courts worked around the clock.  One night, about midnight, the largest of the courtrooms was filled with about three bus loads of defendants.  There was only one guard in the room, an older court house guard with a shot gun sitting at one of the two back doors.  I looked into the courtroom to see if I needed to replace one of the assistants and Judge Sodaro caught my eye and waved me up to the bench.  He said “Fred, I’m a little nervous with this many defendants, they’re becoming a bit loud and unruly and we only have old Sam back there half awake on guard, do you think you could get some guardsmen or troops in here.”  I told him I would try.  I knew it would be hard because  of the street work being done.  But he was right.  There was an increasingly loud “ummmmmmmm ummmmmmm ummmmmm” going on in the room of probably two hundred defendants.  So, I stopped at Sam on the way out and said “judge is worried, I don’t know whether I can find someone to help you or not, so be alert, stand up and let the judge see you.”  He said okay and winked at me and stood up.  I went through the swinging doors and down the hall.  About half way to the State’s Attorney’s office I heard a shotgun blast and I raced back to the courtroom.  There was absolute silence; judge Sodaro was not on the bench, the prosecutors were not at the table and the court clerks were standing agape.  Old Sam had a smile on his face and said “Sorry Fred, I must have dozed off and my shotgun went off.”  There was not a single sound from the crowd that had been abuzz with discontent just three minutes before.  Not a single sound.


I talked to one of the clerks and he told me that when the shotgun went off the Judge hightailed it from the bench with the prosecutors right behind him.  He said he was too shocked to move but soon saw that the blast had brought the crowd to attention, so he just stayed where he was.  So, order was restored without having to bring troops in from the streets and Sam’s “dozing” became the story of the week in the  courthouse.


While our work did not diminish, the streets began to come under control when the military from Fort Benning Georgia arrived.  I will never forget the meeting Charley called me out to attend with him at the Armory where command center was located.  General York of the Army was there with the Adjutant General Gelston, Attorney General Burch, Mayor D’Alesandro who had been mayor only three months or so when the riots broke out, Police Commissioner Pomerleau and his minions and representatives of the Governor and the President.  General York made a suggestion and General Geltston said it wouldn’t be necessary for the federal troops to become that much involved, and General York in a precise, totally understandable fashion advised that the Guard had been federalized and General York was in command.  From that time on, things began to improve.  From that time on, arrests began to decline because the presence of those well trained, no nonsense troops began to prevent the offenses.


Finally, on Good Friday at about 2:00 p.m. Bobby Fertitta and I left to go home for the first time since Palm Sunday morning.


Fortunately, I never had to experience such ruinous times again.  Parts of Baltimore looked like a bombed out, burned out city in the Middle East or out of one of the devastated nations from World War II.  Most of the damage was to the Black neighborhoods themselves, and a fact escaping most people was that Blacks were the most victimized of all the citizens of Baltimore.  When I left the city to return to Idaho when it became time for that little Andrew to start school, there were still parts of the city where buildings were boarded up, never having been repaired.


All of it brought on by the senseless murder of a preacher who carried the message of  peace and non violence.  Dr. King’s cowardly assassin set in motion the frustration and anger that underlay a century of fourth class treatment and throughout the nation  violence was the result.  Did something, anything good come of it.  I think so.  At least it got the attention of governing powers, and even though the entire problem of discrimination has never ended, it has improved at least officially; but frankly as long as poverty and poor levels of education remain, there never will be an end to the problems.  People who have no jobs, no means to seek a job, no education of sufficient level to hold good jobs, and no money to improve themselves will always be uneasy, and will always be looking for a way to gain that money, even through criminal means.


Memories—how did I get on this kick?  I read last night an accounting of Memphis in the 48th year since Dr. King was killed.  And, when I woke up I found that I had been dreaming about looking for coffee in the briefing room of the Eastern.  The mind—–