MacMillan Wharf

MacMillan Wharf:Chapter Five

MacMillan Wharf: Chapter Five

by Richard Gifford

Angus Black had good reason to be worried. As CEO of Scotia Gas, his business had expanded rapidly over the previous decade, as had the environmental opposition to offshore oil and gas exploration. The geology of the Gulf of Maine suggests that natural gas reserves exist not just off of Nova Scotia, but all the way to the famed George’s Bank fishing grounds. Both Canada and the United States own sides of George’s Bank and the disputes over fishing on the Bank have gone on for decades, at times involving gunfire and the intervention of Naval ships from both nations.

Due to the richness of biodiversity on George’s Bank, Canada and the United States agreed to a moratorium on oil and gas exploration in the early 1990s. Dolphins, whales, swordfish, lobsters and many other high profile species are found there in abundance. Pressure from fisheries and conservation groups led to both countries protecting the 10,000 square mile underwater plateau from petroleum-related exploration.

However, the moratorium recently expired. The United States still has a ban on oil and gas exploration on George’s Bank, but not Canada. Angus Black had made certain through his connections in Ottawa that Scotia Gas was already well-positioned for the exploration rights on the Canadian side of the Bank, but would not be able to gain access to the two-thirds of George’s Bank owned by the Americans.

Angus invited a Washington D.C. based oil industry lobbyist named Lloyd “Mac” MacFarlane to join him in the hotel bar one evening after the plenary meeting at a recent North-American Petroleum Council conference in Houston, Texas. Angus was dressed neatly in a crisp blue pinstripe Brooks Brothers suit with a white French-cuff shirt and a conservatively striped silk necktie. His gold cufflinks were embossed with the insignia of the British SAS, the special forces unit that he served in as a young man. He had never married or had children, and rose up the corporate ladder quite quickly as a result.

“Whales? What about them?” Mac MacFarlane wore his trademark cowboy boots and a bolo tie with an oil rig clasp, all topped off by a large white cowboy hat. Mac was an assistant Secretary of the Interior during the second Reagan administration, and knew the inside track in Washington, DC intimately. Angus knew that Mac was working for some of the large American oil and gas companies, who were just as eager as he was to see drilling on George’s Bank. Angus also knew that as long as he kept pouring the liquor, Mac would keep talking. After a few glasses of peaty Islay single malt whiskey, Mac started to open up.

“I’ll tell you what Angus, we all know there’s a hell of a lot of gas and oil out there. I’m sure it’s just a matter of time until the U.S. opens up our side of George’s Bank for drilling. Right now the damn Arabs have us by the balls.” Mac said in his Texan drawl. “It’s just not right that you’ve got some of the worst regimes in the world in charge of the whole shooting match.”

Angus nodded in agreement and refilled Mac’s glass with Scotch.

“The problem is going to be with the damn environmental impact reports. These things can take years, and depending on the findings, stop any oil exploration from happening at all.”

"Every year there's hundreds of thousands of people going whale watching, and them whales just tug at people's hearts."

“And there’s no way around it?” Angus asked. He was known in the oil business as being willing to do whatever it took to get his way.

“Not under current law. Hell, Alaska’s been held up for nearly a decade because the bunny kissers are all worried that the polar bears might not like the looks of an oil rig.” Mac paused to take another sip. “I’ll tell you what, I think it will be worse on George’s Bank.”

“Worse? How?” Angus was well aware of the power of the U.S. Endangered Species Act to stop a project in its tracks.

“Whales.” Mac replied dryly.

“Whales? What about them?”

“They’re going to be the sticking point, I guarantee it.”

“But we have the same whales in Canada, and it wasn’t a problem at all.”

“You also had the entire province of Nova Scotia going bankrupt after the fishing industry collapsed. How many jobs have you created since exploration opened up on your side?”

“True.” Angus saw his point and thought about the thousands of men and women employed by his company and the other supporting industries. The shipyard in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia was running around the clock building new offshore gas rigs. With drilling rights on the American side, his revenues would at least double.

“George’s Bank is right next to one of the poorest parts of Canada, but close to the richest parts of the USA. Every year there’s hundreds of thousands of people going whale watching, and them whales just tug at people’s hearts.” Mac elaborated.

A plan was beginning to form in Angus’ mind. If he knew what was going to be in the environmental impact statement, he could prepare counter arguments. He could demonstrate that Scotia Gas was already protecting the whale habitats on the Canadian side of George’s Bank. Scotia Gas was the largest and most experienced company in the gas industry, and would be well positioned for the American contracts.

“So this environmental impact statement, who’s doing it?” Angus asked.

“Some rinky-dink operation in Massachusetts called the Whale Center. That should give you an idea where they’re coming from.” Mac chuckled. “As far as I understand, they’re in charge of collecting all the biological data on the whales’ feeding grounds. You see, that’s their main concern. The increase in ship traffic and exploration might disturb the whales, and they’re all protected by the Endangered Species Act, which doesn’t allow that.”

Angus had all the information that he thought Mac could be useful for before becoming annoyingly drunk. Checking his Brietling watch, he stood to leave.

“It’s always a pleasure chatting with you Mac. I need to catch an early flight in the morning, so I’m heading up to my suite.”

“Oh sure thing, compadre. You mind if I finish the bottle?”

“Go right ahead.” Angus shook Mac’s hand and walked purposefully out of the bar.

When Angus returned to his comfortable office in Halifax from the conference, he turned on his computer and called up the homepage of the Whale Center. He had only recently acquired a computer at home but was rapidly becoming a devotee of the internet. Mostly he used it for on-line auctions of fine art and wine. Now he was learning the usefulness of the internet for prodding around in other people’s lives from the comfort of his $800 Herman Miller chair.

The home page of the Whale Center had an employee directory with the friendly and inviting title of “Who We Are.” It was complete with pictures, biographies, credentials, and current research projects of each of the staff and interns. One project title in particular caught his interest, “Ecological Degradation of George’s Bank by Petroleum Exploration.” It only took him a few minutes to find the names and pictures of the authors of the report, Dr. Linda Hanscomb and her assistant Annie Macalister.

He remembered meeting a man from Provincetown at a conference on promoting fisheries and other marine businesses a few years back in Boston who might be able to help get a copy of this report. He dug out his notes from the conference, and found the man’s name and phone number circled on the list of attendees. With a simple phone call, and the offer of $5000 for the report, the deal was made.

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