Pluck must be partnered with a moral compass

According to Larry Cornies, Canadians have become "weak-kneed." We lack "political pluck." Cornies writes:

My, but what weak-kneed nation builders we’ve become.

Forget the formidable challenges that faced our forebears: stitching together a new federation from scattered and diverse colonies, or building a transcontinental railroad, or aspiring to be a nation that would one day stand upright, on its own, on the world stage.

Forget all that. These days, the prospect of merely reforming and renewing the upper chamber of our bicameral parliament is enough to make us cower like frightened turtles.

Cornies tells us, "the nation builders . . . seldom flinched when it came to difficult political negotiations or the job of building a better Canada . . . "

Wow! I thought flinching was in a politician's job description. When I started looking into our Canadian forebears, I found more flinching was the least of their crimes. Our forebears are no better than the folk in power today and possibly quite  a bit worse. I posted something on this -- No saints found despite newspaper's praise.

I learned Sir John A. Macdonald was a shakedown artist. A plucky shakedown artist but still a shakedown artist -- a crook. The following is from a page posted by the Canadian government.

In April 1873, the government of Sir John A. Macdonald was charged with accepting illicit funds from Sir Hugh Allan. In return for these payments, Allan was assured that he would be awarded the lucrative contract to construct the transcontinental Canadian Pacific Railway. When evidence of the agreement was made public by Opposition members of Parliament and published in newspapers across Canada, the episode became known as the "Pacific Scandal."

A telegram from Macdonald to Allan's legal adviser read: "I must have another ten thousand; will be the last time of calling; do not fail me; answer today."

This is not to say Macdonald didn't achieve a lot of good. He did. After all he was one of the Fathers of Confederation. But he also did a lot that was bad. We should not forget this as Larry Cornies appears to have done.

But, when I think of important Canadian forebears, I don't think just of politicians but I also think of all those wielding power outside the political arena. For instance, I think of the chap Sir John A. was shaking down, a fellow by the name of Sir Hugh Allan. Hugh Allan is most certainly a Canadian forebear and a very determined one. Allan had pluck (spirit and resolve). Unfortunately, he didn't have a working moral compass. At the very least, he ignored it.

Richard J. Gwyn in his book, Nation Maker: Sir John A. Macdonald: His Life, Our Times 1867-1891, tells the following story: During a dinner at her home, Lady Macdonald asked Sir Hugh Allan for a donation for her church. "You can't take it with you," she told Allan. From the other side of the table her husband, Sir John A. Macdonald, quietly added, "It would soon melt if he did."

Curious as to who this fellow Allan was and why he enjoyed dinner at Macdonald's home, I began to read biographies on Allan. The words associated with Allan paint a sad picture: scandal, stock manipulation, haphazard bookkeeping, unwarranted dividends, debt, bribery . . . .  Allan called the rumours surrounding him "absurd" and "senseless." I suspect many, including Macdonald, would not agree.

Another term appearing again and again is "political patronage." Sir Hugh Allan controlled Canada's second largest bank. But Allan controlled more than the bank; Allan controlled influential people. For instance, the ex-finance minister John Rose was the bank’s London solicitor, in 1866 the future prime minister of Canada J. J. C. Abbott was kept on a $1,000 annual retainer as the bank’s Montreal lawyer and in 1883 both Sir Charles Tupper and Sir John A. Macdonald were special solicitors for the Winnipeg branch. Well known politicians pop up time and time again on the bank's employment rolls.

And the bank had another way to keep politicians on a tight leash: debt. For instance, Sir John A. Macdonald was probably the bank’s most prominent debtor.

Allan's corrupt ways spilled over to stain the manner in which employees were treated. A Royal Commission revealed the oppressive exploitation of workers by Allan. Many of the longshoremen employed by the Allan Line fleet of ships were compelled to work 30 to 35 hours at a stretch for the wretched wage of 20 cents an hour. Plus, the Allan Line, according to the Commission, retained one per cent of the workers' wages to provide the employees with insurance from Citizens’ Insurance Company. A company that had Sir Hugh Allan coincidentally at the helm.

The commission found that the longshoremen of the Allan Line paid a premium equivalent to an annual premium of $9.12 for protection lasting no more than ten hours a day during 365 days. Better coverage could be obtained elsewhere for $8.75, payable per quarter, and providing coverage for not only accidents happening during the ten hours of the work but all the accidents that could happen during the twenty-four hours of the day.

Sir Hugh Allan: a Canadian forebear. And sadly, he is but one embarrassment among many.
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Some links to other Internet sites dealing with this topic:
Chartered Libertine? A Case Against Sir John Macdonald and Some AnswersA History of Canadian Wealth/Chapter XII
Charles Tupper and his "reputation for parliamentary blather"

No saints found despite newspaper's praise

An opinion piece in The London Free Press this Saturday told me, "When we lack the political pluck needed to reform the Senate, we're not keeping faith with our forebears." And yes, the word in the paper is 'forebear' and the newspaper is correct. Google 'forebearer' to read why.

According to the paper we have become quite the "weak-kneed" group since the nation-builders of 1867 successfully tackled the difficult job of creating Canada. Apparently, these leaders from the past were chaps who "seldom flinched" when facing tough problems. Be it building a nation or building a railroad, these chaps were up to the task, or so claimed The Free Press.

I believe the editorial writer would call me a cynic because such glowing praise immediately made me question the truth in all of this. Were our early politicians actually more akin to saints than sinners? If so, what happened? The quick answer is "Nothing happened." Our early political leaders were quite human. Sainthood eluded them.

I quote from A History of the Vote in Canada from Elections Canada and a discussion of corruption in the early years of our nation:

The figures on members who lost their seats because of fraud or corrupt electoral practices indicate the extent of the problem. Between 1867 and 1873, when petitions protesting the outcome of an election were presented to a committee of the House of Commons, just one of 45 contested elections was invalidated. 

When the courts began to look impartially at claims . . . the number of voided elections soared. Between 1874 and 1878, 49 of the 65 contested elections submitted to the courts were voided, forcing nearly one third of the members of the House of Commons to resign. 

The rigorous approach of the courts appeared to lower the incidence of fraud, at least temporarily. Between 1878 and 1887, some 25 members were unseated following contested elections. Corruption flared up again, however, between 1887 and 1896, with some 60 members losing their seats after court challenges. 

By the end of the century, the number of members convicted of election fraud or corrupt practices began to decline again – not because of any improvement in election practices, but because of the political parties' increasing use of "saw-offs" – friendly agreements to withdraw equal numbers of contested election petitions before appealing to the courts. 

Yes sir, these fellows would surely have solved the problems facing the Senate in Canada today. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

As for the building the railroad, the stain of corruption is found here as well. The following is from Library and Archives Canada: The Pacific Scandal.

Sir John A. Macdonald

In April 1873, the government of Sir John A. Macdonald was charged with accepting illicit funds from Sir Hugh Allan. In return for these payments, Allan was assured that he would be awarded the lucrative contract to construct the transcontinental Canadian Pacific Railway. When evidence of the agreement was made public by Opposition members of Parliament and published in newspapers across Canada, the episode became known as the "Pacific Scandal."

Allan's correspondence revealed that he and his American partners had attempted to influence a range of public figures, including journalists and politicians. During the election campaign of 1872, large sums were contributed to individuals such as George-Étienne Cartier and Hector-Louis Langevin. A telegram from Macdonald to Allan's legal adviser, John J. C. Abbott, provided the scandal's most sensational evidence, as it read: "I must have another ten thousand; will be the last time of calling; do not fail me; answer today."

Macdonald employed a number of delay tactics in an attempt to avoid the political consequences of the scandal. However, there was no avoiding the public backlash and unrelenting attacks of the Opposition. The political cartoonist J. W. Bengough became popular for his illustrated commentaries on the Pacific Scandal.

A Royal Commission was appointed in August 1873 to examine the matter, and in November Macdonald's government finally resigned. A general election followed, and Macdonald managed to keep his seat in Parliament. For many individuals involved in the scandal, the long-term consequences were negligible. Macdonald's party returned to power in 1878 and Macdonald served as prime minister until his death in 1891, when he was succeeded by none other than John Abbott.

Ah yes, those were the days. I believe some of our disgraced Senators today would feel quite comfortable sitting among the distinguished members from days long gone.

Stretching our imagination and the Thames

An old French map shows the river now known as the Thames flowing above the Grand River.

 
In an earlier post I mentioned that at one time I wrote a weekly column, Celebrate the Thames, for the local paper, The London Free Press. (If you are thinking my writing doesn't seem good enough for a daily paper, you're right. I thank the excellent editors at the paper for cleaning up my prose for publication. Oh, how I wish I had those people helping me now.)

While writing that column, I would hear from local history keeners who had their own take on a local stories and were eager to get these stories, their stories, given a public airing. One story I heard repeatedly was that the Thames River, contrary to local folklore, was part of the reason that London did not become the capital of Upper Canada. The little river was simply not up to the task.

According to this interpretation of history, it was the myth of the Thames River and not the river itself that encouraged thoughts of London as the capital of Upper Canada. When reality hit, the truth doomed the dream and the growth of London was stalled for decades. This, of course, is not the version of history bandied about by city and river boosters today.

According the folk who contacted me, years before all the talk about a city at The Forks there were people in Europe who believed the Thames River, known then as La Trenchée (among other names), was a mighty river offering hundreds of miles of navigable waterway as it carved a path through thick, wooded wilderness. Maps at the time showed the river headwaters in the Halton Hills northwest of present day Toronto.

A quick search of the Internet found a map of Upper Canada done for John Graves Simcoe. Note the length of the Thames River and the placement of the Forks of the Thames on this map. The forks are shown many miles west of the true position. The river flows north of the Grand River, extending all the way to a spot a little northwest of Toronto.

Clearly, the Thames as depicted almost reaches a river flowing south into Lake Ontario. This map hints at the possibility the military could use the Thames River to travel safely from Lake St. Clair all the way to Lake Ontario after the completion of just a little river work and the addition of a short canal. (Click on the map to see an enlarged version.)

The Forks of the Thames are circled and are wrong - much too far east.

It is interesting to note that one can easily find backing for these revisionist arguments. Lieutenant-Governor John Graves Simcoe’s conviction that the capital of Upper Canada should be build at the Forks of the Thames River did not come to him as a revelation inspired by a visit to the site. No, Simcoe selected the Forks of the Thames as the ideal site before he left England.

Early in 1791, Simcoe wrote to Sir Joseph Banks, President of the Royal Society:

I mean to establish a capital in the very heart of the country, upon the River La Tranche, which is navigable for batteauxs for 150miles—and near to where the Grand River which falls into Erie, and others that communicate with Huron and Ontario, almost interlock.

A city built on such a long, navigable river would not be as open to an attack by the Americans as a city built right on the edge of one of the Great Lakes. It would be a city protected by location but not isolated by it. One not only had the Thames River to carry military craft but the nearby Grand River as well. To a military man, it was the perfect site except for one thing — it was perfectly wrong.

Simcoe did not visit the Forks until 1793. The position of the Forks was well east of where he had imagined. The location of the Forks and the small size of the river itself may have come as a surprise to the Englishman. Simcoe, who fought openly with Lord Dorchester on many matters, did not completely dropped his plans for a capital at the Forks but he did acquiesce quickly to Lord Dorchester and soon Toronto was the chosen capital.
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With Back to the River calling the Forks of the Thames "the heart of London: past, present and future" and pressing hard for a river revitalization project, it may be a good time to fight for the true Thames River and not the mythological one.

As should now be clear, when "Sir John Graves Simcoe stood at the forks of the Thames and imagined it to be the site of the provincial capital," as local journalist and historian Larry Cornies recently wrote, Simcoe was not having a sudden, and quite unexpected, revelation. Simcoe sought out the Forks for confirmation of his already formed thoughts on where to best place the capital of Upper Canada.

The Thames River may be small but the river of public opinion against Simcoe's decision was huge and growing. In the year before Simcoe's historic visit and pronouncement, Kingston merchant Richard Cartwright called the idea "perfectly Utopian " in a letter to a friend. Cartwright appeared to mock the Thames River as a navigable waterway saying an "ingenious invention" was needed and suggesting, tongue-in-cheek, hot-air balloons might fill the bill.

It is a little early to know what direction the London Back to the River movement is heading but the early signs are not all promising. The plans seem more Disneyland than necessary. The talk is all fountains, splash pads, man-made beaches beside huge swimming pools, sweeping sidewalks and a constant flow of major riverside events. Pittsburgh has been mentioned as a model to follow.

City insists the broken Springbank Dam will be repaired.

Simcoe was out of touch with the river. When he formed his opinions he was still in England on the other side of the Atlantic. Are the Londoners pushing Back to the River also out of touch? One can only wait and see but there are signs folks in power still do not appreciate the true Thames, the little Thames, the natural Thames.

Think of the Springbank Dam that failed some years ago after undergoing expensive repairs and modifications. CTV London reported the dam plays no role in flood protection. Its only value is to keep water levels unnaturally high during the summer.

John Fleming, city planner

The dammed river, more accurately called a reservoir, is a crucial part of the city's new Downtown Master Plan. John Fleming, city planner, is quoted as saying, "That higher water level really is important."

Is it really important? According to the Upper Thames River Conservation Authority, removing the dam is what is important to the river, if by important we mean beneficial. Read: Springbank Dam’s Benefits Far Outweighed by Damage to River’s Ecosystem by Barry Wells.

And how navigable is or was the river?

Back to the river, the small, pretty, little river

Glen Pearson, former member of parliament for London North Centre and co-director of the London Food Bank, is also on the board of the London Community Foundation, the group behind the Back to the River initiative.

Monday night I briefly sat beside Mr. Pearson at a Back to the River consultation session. At one point, Mr. Pearson informed us how 500 or more cities are actively engaged in river renewal projects. He made the point that people everywhere are rediscovering the rivers which flow through their cities. In the past, he has called this "a global movement."

I thought this was interesting, especially the number — 500. But, I wondered, what were the goals of these other cities? And were these goals similar to the goals being expressed at this consultation meeting? Was the thinking in London in sync with the thinking in those other cities or are we out-of-step with the rest of the world? I wanted to ask Mr. Pearson these questions and more but the opportunity never arose.

Mr. Pearson delved deeper into the actions of one specific city from his list of 500: Pittsburgh.  He said of all the cities on the long list, Londoners would be most familiar with Pittsburgh and what the former steel town has accomplished when it comes to rediscovering their river — actually, three rivers: Allegheny, Monogahela and Ohio.

I knew a little about what the American city had accomplished but I was no expert. Now, I was curious. I began reading about Pittsburgh. It had been a great American city in the early part of the last century. But, unlike many other cities from that period, it entered the present century changed but with some of its great city attributes intact.

At this point I direct you to Downtown Pittsburgh, Renaissance and Renewal by Edward K. Muller. This is an interesting read that details the historic battle to save downtown Pittsburgh and the fight to keep the downtown relevant in a changing world. I noted a surprising number of similarities between London and Pittsburgh. Clearly there are lessons to be learned but in some ways London has already closed doors that Pittsburgh opened and rushed through.

Benedum Center         Photo courtesy of Christian Carrasco.

For instance, in Pittsburgh the former Stanley Theatre was converted into the Benedum Center for Performing Arts. In London, the former Capitol Theatre auditorium was demolished for a parking lot. The city turned its back on not one but two fine, heritage movie houses. Today, the city is still longing for a new performing arts centre but does not seem to be even close to seeing this dream realized.

But let's cut to the chase: the river. Pittsburgh sits at the confluence of three mighty rivers, each of which dwarfs the London river. The Allegheny and Monogahela Rivers together drain an area eight and a half times that of the Thames River watershed. The Ohio River watershed is more than 80 times that of the Thames. Comparing the confluence of rivers where Pittsburgh sits to the Forks of the Thames is quite the stretch.

The Thames is not a mighty river. It is a small river. As one person at the consultation session pointed out, in the summer, during hot dry spells, the Thames River almost runs dry in certain spots. But the dearth of water at these times can be deceiving. I once lived quite close to The Forks of the Thames in a small, brick and stucco home built in the 1920s. Labatt Park was directly behind my home and behind the park was the river.

Ivey Family London Room, London (Ontario) Public Library

When I bought that home I looked at the river and thought "looks good for canoeing but probably best after a heavy rain." At the time, I didn't know about the recreational Springbank dam. I bought a canoe.

The following spring there were sandbags holding down the sewer maintenance covers in my neighbourhood. I linked some new words to the river, at least new for me: flood, fear and respect.

A neighbour brought me up to speed concerning the likelihood of being caught in a flood while living on the west side of the Thames River at the forks. A flood not only could happen, it would happen. The question was simply when.

I learned, floods had happened quite a number of times in the past. One of the worst, the flood of '37, left more than a thousand buildings sitting seven or eight feet deep in river water. Included among those flooded buildings was my home. I now understood why my main floor hardwood floors and downstairs plaster walls all showed signs of serious water damage.

There were five deaths in the watershed associated with the flood in '37 — an amazingly low death toll considering that a river surge, after a severe rain storm in 1883, took the lives of 17 Londoners.

Glen Pearson writes, "The allure of rivers — aesthetics, economic development, environmental sustainability, and recreation — is easy for us to grasp . . . " All true. What can be harder to grasp are the dangers urban rivers, even small ones, represent. Rivers are beautiful but unpredictable. Developing the land beside a river is always a temptation and often a mistake.

After the flood of '37, it was suggested that all homes built on the flood plain should be purchased and razed. It was argued this would cost less than building the multiple flood control dams demanded for flood protection. The idea failed to gain traction and the homes were not demolished.

Instead, some years later, Fanshawe Dam was built north of the city, plus dams were built at Wildwood near Stratford and Pittock at Woodstock. Another dam, the Glengowan Dam, was planned but never constructed. This is no big deal, as far as London is concerned, as it promised the city little in the way of additional flood protection.

Now, almost eight decades after the Great Flood, London city planners have rediscovered the river and are promoting the forks as a centrepiece of their newest designs for downtown. At one point, the city planners were showing a picture of South Bank beach in Brisbane, Australia. The planners were making noises about having a similar man-made beach created at The Forks of the Thames.

How has the man-made beach worked out for the Aussies? Well, in 2011 the Brisbane River overflowed its banks, lifted concrete slabs, washed away tons of beach sand and left the liner of the giant pool badly damaged. The tally was some $7 million Australian. The lesson here is if you are going to build on a flood plain, you had better have deep pockets and a short memory.

Point State Park fountain being repaired. Photo courtesy of Zack Weinberg.

And, I might add, Pittsburgh appears to have deep pockets, too. The incredible Point Park State fountain and surrounding plaza were extensively repaired, upgraded and finally reopened in 2013. Why? Repeated flood damage for one thing. Total cost of the restoration and rejuvenation project: $35 million U.S. It was the largest park project in Pennsylvania history.

But there is more to know about Pennsylvania and rivers than just the Pittsburgh Riverlife project. Early this year (2015) it was announced that for the 12th year in a row, more dams were removed in Pennsylvania than in any other state. Now, there is a fact that has real relevance to London which is under pressure to decommission and remove the city's damaged Springbank recreational dam.

Bob Irvin, president of American Rivers, said in a press release about dam removals:

The river restoration movement in our country is stronger than ever. Communities nationwide are removing dams because they recognize that a healthy, free-flowing river is a tremendous asset.

Over the past 20 years the Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection has assisted in the removal of some 350 dams throughout the state and Pennsylvania is not alone in deciding rivers are best when  not dammed. As Mr. Pearson said quite accurately, it is "a global movement."

Why can't Londoners get the name of the Thames River right?

Years ago I wrote a column for The London Free Press called Celebrate the Thames. I'm ashamed to admit but the newspaper was more than simply careless when it came to the name of the river being celebrated. The newspaper editors followed the newspaper's style guide and it was wrong and it was followed religiously. I wrote about the South Branch of the Thames when I knew there was no such river. It's the Thames River: period. There is no South Branch.

Don't believe me? Check the Geographical Names Board of Canada site. You will discover that the Thames River flows from its headwaters near Tavistock southwest through Innerkip where it turns southeast toward Woodstock and London.

Both maps reproduced above are screen grabs from the Geographical Names Board of Canada online site.

And to be exact, you might like to say pedantic, there is no North Branch of the Thames River either. It is simply the North Thames River.

You may well wonder, how did I become aware of this? Well, I wanted to do a column on finding the headwaters of the Thames River. The folk at the Upper Thames River Conservation Authority assured me the Thames River originated near Tavistock. The London river was not born in two places as suggested by use of the South Branch and North Branch labels use so carelessly by many, including, UTRCA itself and the Canadian Heritage Rivers folk.

If the river actually split into two branches, merging at The Forks of the Thames, then the Thames River proper would start in the downtown core of London, and that, as one can see by the map on the left, is the present mythology. And that is patently untrue.

Back in the days when London was in the running to be named the capital of Upper Canada, some believed the mythical Thames River of their dreams ran west almost as far as the Don River in Toronto.

These mad dreamers suggested a canal could be dug to link the two watersheds. According to this line of thought, the Thames River and the Don River together offered a short, safe route from Lake St. Clair to Lake Ontario via London. When this was shown to be completely ludicrous, it was just one more reason for not making London the capital. London was not sitting at the forks of a mighty river. The Thames River was not the Mississippi or even the Grand.

Why is all this interesting? Well London likes to profess a great love of the beautiful little river meandering through the city. Yet, it often seems that these folk love the mythical Thames River of years past more than the actual river of today.

The city planning department sees the river as central to their vision of  a renewed urban core. Gosh how they love the little river. Sadly, they don't love it enough to get the name right. Nor do they love it enough to consider abandoning the push to repair the Springbank Dam.

Given the choice between a healthy river and an almost stagnant reservoir at The Forks, the folk in charge at city hall choose a reservoir every time.The reservoir fits in with the myth better than the real, but little, river.

All around the globe the latest buzz word for river projects is restoration. Channels are being abandoned, dams are being demolished, rivers are being allowed to run free. The only restrictions are linked to flood prevention. But this is not happening in London despite all the grand talk about rethinking this and rethinking that.

As I write this I realize that I am being pedantic. The smallest, least meaningful mistake being made by the city when it comes to the river is getting the name of the river wrong. This naming error is simply par for this course.

There is a North Thames River and a Thames River but no mention of branches or a South Thames River.

The San Antonio River: Increasingly famous for more than just its over-commercialized watercourse

San Antonio River before the River Walk

The River Walk in San Antonia, Texas, has been called an over-commercialized watercourse by some London thinkers such as the popular newspaper columnist Larry Cornies.

His description of the San Antonio River looping through the city core is quite accurate. The loop, once known as the Great Bend, is no longer so great. It is simply a watercourse, a highly managed canal, cutoff from the main river by flood control gates. It is a water route made redundant by a bypass channel in service for almost a hundred years.

As the postcard from 1916 shows, even before the great flood of 1921, and the subsequent flood control measures, the Great Bend was being tamed. The card shows what is now the busiest section of the River Walk. Restaurants and other businesses line the canal today.

It is interesting to note that the same battle is being waged today in London, Ontario, that was once fought over the Great Bend, the looping watercourse through downtown San Antonio.

Architect Robert Hugman realized the loop, isolated from flooding, could be developed for commercial use. He came up with an imaginative plan he called "Shops of Aragon and Romula" inspired by cities in Spain. Opposing Hugman was the professional city planning firm Harland Bartholomew and Associates of St. Louis. These out-of-state experts, hired by the City Plan Committee, wanted the Great Bend to be natural, pastoral, a linear park with no commercial development at water level. The Great Depression put both plans on hold.

By 1939, it appeared Hugman's River Walk plan had won. Hugman was hired and arched bridges in white limestone, concrete walkways and an outdoor theater all shortly appeared. At the same time, riverside plantings disappeared along with the water in the loop. Hugman had the channel drained temporarily. Hugman's work as called a "desecration of the beauties of San Antonio" and, less than a year into the project, Hugman was fired, leaving much (but not all) of his dream unrealized.

The River Walk languished for almost three decades before gaining solid traction in 1968 with the hosting of the World's Fair in San Antonio. The Walk was linked by a new quarter mile long channel to the fairgrounds.

San Antonio Channel: Mission Reach at Ashley Rd (Planned)

But do not assume that Hugman's dream, his over-commercialized watercourse, is the clear winning vision for the San Antonio river. Outside the protected loop, river development appears to be is taking a turn towards the green. The latest Master Plan aims to restore some of the waterway to a more natural state while maintaining flood control benefits.

The Hugman and the Harland Bartholomew dreams may yet co-exist with the support of the U.S Army Corps of Engineers. The army engineers have taken the initial steps aimed at restoring the ecosystem of the river.The army corps brags:

The Mission Reach project occurs along eight miles of the San Antonio River and . . . includes restoration of pool-riffle-run sequences, river remnants, off-channel pools, sinuosity, and aquatic and riparian vegetation. Recreation is included as an ancillary, non-disruptive component of the restoration . . . The re-establishment of native herbaceous plants, grasses and wildflowers is planned along with the planting of approximately 20,000 (native) trees (and shrubs) along the riparian corridor.

Read more about the San Antonio River Improvements Project on the SARIP webpage.

Last Week Tonight with John Oliver: Wealth Gap (HBO)