By Lauren Williamson, Medill

Galena, IL–My goal tonight was to not throw up. I have what is probably an inordinate anxiety about food poisoning, which has been exacerbated by this summer’s heavily documented outbreak of salmonella and always intensifies when I need to choose a restaurant in an unfamiliar place.

As I took one wet step after another along Galena’s rain-soaked main street, I examined each restaurant’s menu carefully, along with the general cleanliness and busy-ness of the dining room. No other people meant no meal there for me. In the case of restaurants, I very much judge them by their covers.

The airy, spotless dining room of One Eleven Main had instant curb appeal. So did the homey menu headings such as “Things to be Shared” and “Things You Won’t Share.” A tiny line below the restaurant name sold me on the place: “Local Flavor Cuisine.”

During the months I’ve spent reporting on the Tradition Dairy site outside Nora, Ill.,  where a California farmer plans to build a 10,000-cow dairy, I’ve learned much about the debate over decentralized industrial agriculture versus local, sustainably farmed produce and livestock. Now, the night before the hearing for an emergency injunction to stop construction on Tradition, I had a chance to try some of Jo Daviess County’s own regional specialties.

“The owner grew up in Ireland collecting fruits and vegetables from around the area and bringing them into town,” said my waitress, Catherine, who explained her slight tardiness by saying she was separating the recycling. “It just made sense to do a similar thing here because there are lots of famers in the area.”

One Eleven Main defines “local” as food that comes from the Tri-State Area – Wisconsin, Iowa and Illinois. Not everything on the menu is from around here, such as, I’m suspecting, the calamari and the salmon. But patrons can sip a soda made in Iowa, nibble on cheese that is, predictably, from Wisconsin or sample mushrooms harvested from Galena-area forests.

I settled on Arnold’s Farm Chicken, raised by Tom Arnold (no relation to Roseanne’s ex) on his livestock farm in Elizabeth, about 15 miles from Galena. Arnold specializes in sustainably raised chicken, beef, lamb, turkey and pork that are free of antibiotics and growth hormones. The chickens are pasture fed, which means they walk their pens in true free-range fashion, pecking at greens and bugs in addition to the farm-provided corn and oats. He ships the meat only  within Illinois, so out-of-staters who want to try his product have to make an appointment to come to the farm itself.

It’s a very different system than visitors to Tradition Dairy will find if and when the facility is built. On concentrated animal feeding operations, or CAFOs, livestock is confined for a minimum of 45 days at a time. Dairy cows are fed silage, which is a fermented corn product usually manufactured on the premises. It’s possible—likely even–that the cows will be pumped with growth hormones and antibiotics to increase milk production and ward off infection. Illinois has a milk deficit, so many area residents hope the milk produced at Tradition Dairy will stay in state. But Nic Anderson, director of the Illinois Livestock Development Group, said that once the milk is sold to a distributor it can be shipped anywhere.

When my dinner plate arrived, I found half a chicken resting atop a small pile of mashed potatoes and a fan of richly-hued green beans. Catherine didn’t know where the potatoes were from, but the green beans were also local, grown chemical-free at Two Onion Farm in Belmont, Wis. The carefully prepared meal was delicious and very welcome after a day of McDonald’s Snack Wraps and 7-Eleven fountain drinks.

I went back to my hotel satisfied – and not a bit worried about salmonella.

By Lauren Williamson, Medill

“Go up the road that way, then turn this way when you get to the grocery store, and once you make it around the corner, you’ll go between the pickup truck and the bushes. And turn that way again.”

As a city dweller married to internet mapping and a highway atlas that proved worthless to find unpaved back roads, I relied on word-of-mouth directions such as these during my trip to Jo Daviess County in northwest Illinois. I definitely wasn’t in Chicago anymore.

But Nora is experiencing a culture-shock of its own as corporate farming moves into the village, population 116, bringing with it the kind of environmental and economic controversies associated with industrial complexes on Lake Michigan rather than the sun-dappled banks of the Apple River.

A.J. Bos, a California-based dairy farmer, obtained authorization from the state of Illinois at the end of May to begin construction on a concentrated animal feeding operation, or CAFO, one mile west of Nora. It could conceivably house 10,000 dairy cows within the next few years.

So divisive is the CAFO that people in Nora who talk about it are reluctant to give their names and point to one family where the children no longer speak to their mother after she sold her property to Bos.

Construction on the dairy operation began in June after the county court denied a request for an emergency restraining order from residents who said they fear the environmental havoc of the manure from such a large-scale facility.

But other townspeople see the dairy as an opportunity to revitalize the sagging Nora economy. We met with Mayor Mark Mullen and local farmers on Tuesday night at the Nora Bar, the sole business downtown.

Many people we spoke with are desperate to bring more jobs to the area. With the population dropping between each census, Nora can’t spare any more migration to cities with better opportunities.

On the other side of the mega-dairy controversy, there’s Tom Bergstrom. As vice president of Helping Others Maintain Environmental Standards, he said that everyone will move out of Nora anyway within five years if the dairy pollutes at the level some researchers expect. A report from the Iowa Center for Agricultural Health and Safety supports Bergstrom’s assertion, saying CAFOs like the one under construction outside of Nora often cause “declines in local business purchases, physical infrastructure and population.”

There’s a lot to lose in Jo Daviess County. The Apple River Canyon State Park shelters one of the most biologically diverse and pristine natural habitats in Illinois. Limestone bluffs that cradle the river provide a home to eagles, more than 500 plant species and, as we discovered, very large and very brave wild turkeys.

The riches in wildlife throughout the county are staggering. Based on the number of birds, foxes and rodents who ventured fearlessly into my car’s path, it’s a near-miracle none of them fell victim to my tires. My cameraman and News21 reporter Rob Runyan would add his survival to that list of graces. He claimed I “scared him to death” each time I swerved to avoid yet another creature.

People were nice but suspicious of me and I can understand why. I was advised not to ask questions in the Nora Bar that could suggest I had a leaning one way or another on the dairy. At one point, I mentioned contact I’d had with H.O.M.E.S., the activist group opposing the dairy, and a line of heads at the bar turned in my direction. I assured the patrons my only job is to fairly present all sides of the situation.

Coming soon to News21projects.org is a video documentary of my two days in Jo Daviess County covering the dairy controversy through interviews with residents, activists and local politicians.