Imagine America in 1784, newly born with looming war debt but boundless confidence. A committee of three chaired by Thomas Jefferson conceived a political framework for the natural westward expansion of states, from temporary self-government, to organized territories, to full statehood. But Jefferson left for France, though his commitment to education was still felt. An expanded committee with a representative from each colony was created, focused on selling lands to raise revenue and encourage orderly settlement. In the final draft before passage of the May 20, 1785 ordinance, emerged a uniquely American creation — the Congressional grant of school trust lands to educate, not just the privileged few, but all children. The land grant for schools was a compelling enticement to settlement and passed easily. Every new state was to enter the Union with a solemn grant of a one-mile-square school section at the center of every six-mile-square township. Millions of acres of school land in each state would be peppered across the landscape in a sacred trust to fund common schools forever. This was not a mere policy; it was an irrevocable, unalterable compact — a promise stretching across generations, etched into the very foundation of our national heritage.
But a large pool of valuable assets held in trust is a powerful temptation. Over time, states began calling the lands "state lands," attempting to use school trust lands to plug budget holes, advantage certain parties, or promote state objectives at the expense of the schools they were meant to serve. The trustees themselves, often the highest elected officials in the state, became a primary threat to the very trusts they were sworn to protect. My life's work, spanning five decades, has been dedicated to understanding, educating, and honoring this extraordinary legacy in Utah and across the twenty mostly western states still holding school trust lands. In most other states, thieving attempts have been thwarted by strong slaps from state supreme courts.
What has unfolded in Oregon is, without hyperbole, among the most egregious and systemic breaches of fiduciary duty I have encountered in the last half-century. This book lays bare that betrayal. It reveals how Oregon's top elected officials — sworn by oath to uphold the state constitution including this sacred school trust — have instead prioritized political agendas over the schools' best interest. We document how productive timberlands, meant to generate tens of millions of dollars for classrooms, have been deliberately rendered unproductive, their value diverted for purposes entirely unrelated to the schools they were sworn to serve. We expose the calculated maneuvers to sell assets at a fraction of their market value, to manage lands at a loss, and to obscure these actions behind a veil of euphemism and procedural evasion. To my knowledge, no other state school trust has operated in the red ever; Oregon's school trust has been in the red for a decade and no one knows. Oregon has refused to make trust lands productive; used trust assets to accomplish state purposes; offered trust property for sale with provisions that no offer above their set price will be accepted; imposed state objectives not in the best interest of the public schools on the sale of the Elliott Forest; acquired trust assets without paying; provided for only the state to purchase school trust property with no public auction; and managed school lands at a loss. Oregon has turned its own schools from beneficiaries to funders of millions of dollars for the annual maintenance of their own endowment. The sale of the magnificent Elliott State Forest for a fraction of its value is not just mismanagement; it is a betrayal of a sacred constitutional compact made to become a state.
The advocacy to save Oregon's school trust has been led by a small but determined group of parents, school districts, and advocates who have refused to stay silent. Much is owed to my coauthor, Dave Sullivan, whose dogged research, gentle humor, refusal to be bullied, and personal pocketbook have kept this story alive. Dave likes to say we are here to remind the state of the promise it made and make the state keep it. So read on, whether you are a woodland owner puzzled by shifting rules, a lawyer intrigued by constitutional trusts, or a citizen who believes commitments ought to mean something. The facts are sobering, but the remedy is within reach. Oregon can again turn its school lands into a perpetual endowment, marry sound forestry with world-class research, and hand future generations an inheritance larger than the one we received. Keeping that promise is our shared work. Schools have been patient long enough. When the state of Oregon violates its own constitution, it must be held accountable. Now is the time for Oregon to honor its solemn statehood compact. This is an appeal to every Oregonian: to understand the promise that was made, the betrayal that has occurred, and the profound cost this has exacted on generations of schoolchildren.