BY BRITTA B. HARRIS A Lincoln housewife, and mother of five, Ms. Harris followed and researched the events of the Oakley Dam controversy for seven years in order to write her master's thesis in public administration for the University of Illinois at Urbana. She has also taught political science at Lincoln College.

THE LAST IN A SERIES OF FOUR ARTICLES By BRITTA B. HARRIS

Oakley Dam finale: The cloud-capped towers . . . shall dissolve and leave not a rack behind

OAKLEY DAM was a mirage. That was the bottom line. Ruinous publicity, lawsuits, militant environmental opposition and growing demands nationwide for vigilance in the use of finite natural resources all combined to sweep away the mirage of benefits promised by the U.S. Corps of Engineers for the ambitious and exceedingly expensive project it had promoted since the 1930's. Initially proposed as a modest flood control project on the Sangamon River near Decatur, Oakley ballooned into a $120 million multipurpose reservoir which its supporters claimed would provide water supply, water quality and recreation in addition to flood control. Throughout the struggle, the Corps and its Decatur allies faced accusations of cost-benefit juggling, shortsightedness, insensitivity to local interests, and, worst of all, conspiratorial closed-door planning. By 1974, the combined weight of pressures from environmental and agricultural detractors became irresistible and the hopes of Decaturites for a new water supply had begun to evaporate. In 1975, the U.S. General Accounting Office, acting on a request of U.S. Sen. Charles Percy (R.,Illinois), completed and released a devastating analysis of the project's shortcomings, and Oakley was dead.

Stretching on for more than 30 years, the Oakley drama was punctuated by several periods of vociferous partisan debate, but the clamor and confusion peaked in the last few years. At the University of Illinois, where many believed that flooding caused by Oakley would damage the prized research and recreational facilities at Allerton Park, the University's Board of Trustees was torn between opposed courses. Finally, in 1967, after a heated policy debate, the trustees altered an earlier decision to go along with Oakley by seeking help from independent engineering consultants.

The Harza Engineering firm of Chicago was instructed to determine whether there were alternatives to the Corps' 1966 Oakley design. To some observers the Harza contract seemed to commit the University to opposition, but the University administration regarded the move as conciliatory. Harza's report became a turning point in the Oakley struggle, and its recommendations spurred activities for compromise.

The compromise collapses
The state of Illinois, long on record as favoring the project, was under pressure to study compromise proposals, but a Corps' Chicago district engineer warned that any state study would halt Oakley progress. John Guillou, chief of the Illinois Division of Waterways, believed that a substantial portion of the Corps' Oakley design could not be justified, and he pressed for state participation. Efforts to bring about a state sponsored compromise finally succeeded when newly elected Gov. Richard Ogilvie called for a study to save the embattled project.

Much to the dismay of Oakley's fervent supporters in Decatur, who feared that further studies meant delays and eventual defeat for the project, the state study proceeded. A compromise proposal, "the Waterways Alternative," agreed to in May 1969 by Decatur, the University of Illinois and the state, lowered the reservoir level to 621 feet above sea level — 15 feet lower than the Corps' had proposed — in order to protect Allerton Park from flooding. The compromise had something for everyone. Decatur was especially pleased with the addition of a second back-up reservoir upstream from Oak- ley on Friends' Creek near the town of Argenta. The second reservoir would provide more recreational opportunities and a guaranteed water supply. A

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short period of bliss came to an end when the University of Illinois learned that the Corps would not accept the 621 foot level and was planning to raise the reservoir to an undisclosed height.

The Committee on Allerton Park (COAP), which had long agitated for changes to save the park, was completely alienated by the Corps' new move and the state's apparent support. The COAP leaders, convinced that nothing short of Oakley's total defeat would save Allerton, began an intensive campaign to discredit both the project and the Corps of Engineers. By 1970, relations between the Corps and the COAP, never good, degenerated even further. COAP leader Bruce Hannon complained that top Corps' Chicago officers had been transferred to other assignments and that the only man with sufficient background on Oakley had not been in the area since 1967.

The COAP probed for Oakley's weak points and distributed its findings for public scrutiny. Labeling the Corps' work as a pork barrel, the COAP members hammered away at project changes made without public hearings. Oakley, they said, was no bargain. In 1965, the average cost-benefit ratio for U.S. Army Corps of Engineer projects was $2.80 in benefits for every dollar of public investment; Oakley, however, would provide only $1.30 of benefit. Oakley's flood control design also came under attack. In spite of billions spent for national flood control, Hannon said flood damages were increasing.

Hannon said damage claims used to justify dams and straightening and deepening of streams were self-serving economic strategies which should be abandoned. The COAP realized that there were inherent risks in any flood control project. The unpredictability of rainfall made a gamble out of deciding the right size for a reservoir. It was possible, water experts claimed, for massive floods to occur in close sequence, causing more damage than computerized projections could predict. By undermining the Corps' flood control procedures, the COAP threatened Oakley's very existence. The bare fact was that without flood control there was no basis for the Corps' involvement or any authority for federal funding. The COAP cited the Corps' misfortunes at Lake Carlyle, a reservoir built on the Kaskaskia River in east central Illinois by the Corps' St. Louis District. In 1967, unseasonably heavy rains caused the lake level to remain high. Efforts by the Corps to lower the Carlyle reservoir failed to reduce water levels before unharvested corn in downstream fields could be brought in. The reservoir and the downstream river were brimful, and angry farmers, watching flocks of ducks feasting in their cornfields, screamed about the Corps' reservoir management. Troubles piled up for the Corps when more heavy rain in the spring delayed the planting of new crops. Downstream landowners said the Carlyle reservoir was being used primarily for recreation, not flood control, and some farmers sought legal redress for damages. Carlyle's failures buttressed the COAP's arguments against the Corps' proposals for Oakley. The Committee predicted that the Corps would disregard Oakley's original flood control purpose and raise Oakley reservoir's levels to increase water supplies and provide for recreation needs.

Piatt County joins opposition
Decatur's stake in Oakley increased with the commitment of funds for the construction of a $55 million water treatment plant designed to draw water from the new reservoir. Decatur promoters searched for more support downstream where, they claimed, the benefits from Oakley would be sizable. There was no hope for upstream support, a fact which had been underlined by a fierce fight among Piatt County communities over the issue of creating a river conservancy district. Decatur favored the district since it would provide an official way for the Corps to extend some Oakley recreation benefits to Piatt County. It was reasoned that if Piatt opposition to Oakley could be quelled, chances for Oakley's success would be greatly improved. The river conservancy proposal was also linked with the desires of a few businessmen looking for recreation facilities to stimulate tourism. Fearing excessive taxation and opposed to Oakley, voters in the proposed district turned out in record numbers during a blinding snowstorm to vote the plan down.

Piatt opposition to Oakley was no small problem. The County Board of Supervisors and the Monticello City Council went on record as opposing the entire project. A. C. Kamm, conservationist and long time opponent of the project, reminded the public that Piatt County had a strong case against Oakley. The loss of valuable agricultural land was regarded as a questionable sacrifice for a reservoir which would do more harm than good. Kamm was pessimistic about the Corps' motive

The last meeting on Oakley THE WAR was over. On a warm spring afternoon on May 27, 1975, a formal conference took place in the office of Sen. Charles Percy in the old Springfield Post Office Building, Present were Gov, Dan Walker; the state's two senators, Adlai Stevenson and Percy; the congressman from the Oakley district, Edward Madigan; Col. James Miller representing the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers; Bruce Hannon, leader of the Committee on Allerton Park, the environmental opponent of the reservoir; Decatur Mayor Names Rupp; and representatives of several state agencies. Actually, the conflict over Oakley Dam and Reservoir had ground to a halt exactly one month before this meeting. Hostilities had ceased with the publication of a report by the U.S. Genera] Accounting Office on April 27, 1975. A project like Oakley, however, which had generated so many political battles over its long history, could not be terminated simply by a technical report; a formal ceremony was required. It was for this purpose that these officials came together. Colonel Miller read a carefully prepared statement indicating that the Corps of Engineers had concluded, along with the General Accounting Office, that the project was economically infeasible and should not be built. Senators Percy and Stevenson, Gov. Walker and Congressman Madigan each made brief state - ments indicating their agreement with the Corps and their continuing concern over obtaining an adequate Water supply for Decatur. Sen. Percy asked Hannon to pledge environmentalist support for a Decatur water supply alternative. Hannon, however, indicated he could not give that assurance, but would have 'to wait until the alternative had been developed. With this, the meeting concluded and the participants left to face the herd of reporters waiting outside. After more than 30 years, hostilities surrounding the Oakley Dam and Reservoir project had formally come to a close.

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The Piatt County Board and the COAP joined in suit against the Corps contending the project would violate U.S. environmental policy

and believed that it would proceed with its own plans in spite of new alternatives. He said that if the Corps continued with what he believed was a low priority project, legal action would be used to stop them.

The Corps kept secret its review of the compromise Waterways Alternative proposed by the state. Only through the grapevine were state and University officials able to piece together a general idea of the Corps' next move. One thing was obvious: a new set of problems was developing because of objections in Argenta to the Friends' Creek Reservoir, and there was every indication that the Corps would alter the height of the dam. The University prepared for another compromise situation and the prospect of more water in Allergen Park. The state's position became more difficult when it appeared that there would be a conflict with the Corps concerning water storage to augment the water flow in the Sangamon River. Eliminating this part of the project was a vital part of the compromise, and the Division of Waterways had hoped to be rid of the problem. Few observers, if any, understood what the Corps' problems were, but most guessed that the engineers were having troubles with Oakley's economic justification.

Old pattern resumes
The Corps' report on the 1969 Waterways Alternative was submitted to the parties for study, and response deadlines were set for two weeks. Protesting the short review period, the University's student newspaper, the Daily Illini, termed the Corps' action "arrogant" and "insensitive to public opinion." The University's Committee on Natural Areas insisted that the University hold out for a dam height of 620 feet, instead of the Corps' proposed 623 feet. New scientific data showed that Allerton's natural stream habitat would be converted to a pond habitat with the higher water table a higher dam would cause. The review was difficult for the University, but in the end, the Board of Trustees reluctantly signed a modified version of the 1969 compromise. The February 1970 Modification of Agreement, costing about $10 million more than the 1969 Waterways Alternative, raised Oakley's levels from 621 feet to 623 feet and lowered the flood release rate from 7, 000 to 5, 000 cubic feet per second. As a gesture to the University, the agreement established a committee of scientists to compare the present water levels in the park with the 623 level at completion in 1974. Control studies would then be conducted to decide if Oakley could be raised to higher levels. The plan was regarded by some as a good example of intergovernmental cooperation, but dedicated Oakley opponents had little faith that the Corps would ever listen to the committee's recommendations.

Changes in the water levels and the flood release rate had signaled the beginning of an ail-out effort by the COAP to defeat Oakley. Catling the agreement a breach of faith, the committee singled out John Guillou for attack, calling him the Corps' "errand boy." They also alleged that the University failed to assume its moral and legal responsibilities for Allerton Park. Other opposition surfaced when the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission asked the state's attorney general to file a suit compelling the University to comply with its Allerton trust obligations.

An avalanche of mail protesting the new agreement poured in to state officials. The Ogilvie administration was concerned with the new opposition, but the governor was committed to Oakley. There were, however, two stipulations in the state's agreement with the Corps which held the door open for future changes: (1) the state could not sponsor the project until the Corps' final design memorandum was received; and (2) the state could not spend Oakley funds without the governor's approval.

Guillou was concerned about the stepped-up opposition, but there was little he could do until the Corps released is final report on the latest agreement. He received no satisfaction from the Corps, which answered his queries by telling him that the report was an "in-house" document. In November 1970. after waiting months to initiate action to counteract the COAP' attacks, Guillou was surprised and angered to learn that the Corps' report had been sent to the state in June and that the Division of Waterways, the state's chief water resource agency, had been bypassed.

The old pattern of secrecy, lack of consultation and recrimination had again resumed. The COAP was determined not to give up, and their antagonists in Decatur, with victory in sight pressed on. But there were new problems for the pro-Oakley forces. There were reports that nitrate levels intake Decatur, the city's municipal water supply, exceeded the limit of safety set by Illinois' health standards. Scientists had found some evidence that water storage reservoirs in rural areas were often higher in nitrates from agricultural fertilizers than the effluent from waste treatment plants. Although the Corps denied any nitrate problems in Oakley, talk of nitrate controls and the consequent reduction of agricultural fertilizers raised the specter of strong opposition from agriculture interests.

Issue in court and campaigns
The often discussed threat of legal action materialized in January 1971 when the COAP, along with the Piatt County Board of Supervisors and the Washington-based Environmental Defense Fund (EDF), announced a lawsuit against the Corps. Using the Ninth, Fourteenth and Fifteenth amendments of the U.S. Constitution in defense of the rights of citizens to use Allerton Park, the suit slated that the National Environmental Policy Act of 1969 and the Environmental Quality Act of 1970 would be violated by Oakley's construction. The EDF, fresh from a victory over the Corps in the Cross-Florida Barge Canal case, believed that the Corps' "construction complex" had led it to unjustified environmental degradation. The COAP hoped the case would tie the project up long enough to make it economically unsound in the face of inflation and rising construction costs.

Oakley, now renamed Lake Springer to honor the retiring congressman, William Springer (R., 22nd District), who had fought hard for the project, was again a campaign issue in the 1972 Illinois gubernatorial race. The COAP was disenchanted with Gov. Ogilvie's Oakley policy and chose to support his

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Democratic challenger, Dan Walker. Walker stressed the need (or coordination and planning for natural resource use. and, although he never declared his opposition to Lake Springer, the COAP was sure that. as governor, he would vet estate spending for the project. Decatur leaders wanted Walker to continue state support it he was ejected, but Walker gave no indication of which way he would go.

A new figure on the scene was state Sen. Harber H. Hall (R.. Bloomington), who expressed concern for the pilght of his Piatt County constituents. He called Lake Springer "a financial disaster before it begins." According to Hall's calculations. Lake Springer would cost close to $277 million in the first year instead of the Corps' new estimated cost of $81 million. Sen. Hall said that the project would entail extra costs for soil erosion control, tax losses and costs for annual crop reductions in the 520,000-acre watershed due to inevitable fertilizer restrictions. Hall felt it made no sense to flood land, reduce productivity and devaluate land for the sake of a low- value lake. His opinions were supported by the powerful Illinois Agricultural Association which left no doubt that it would fight fertilizer restrictions. Without the use of chemical fertilizers, farmers said they would go out of business and that their $1, 200 per acre land would be worthless.

Newly elected Gov. Walker occupied center stage in the Oakley drama during 1973. Walker moved cautiously. Water-ways chief John Guillou, whose position in the Walker administration was subject to growing speculation, said that Walker wanted his options kept open. During "accountability sessions" held by the governor with his constituents, he heard protests from Piatt County and Friends' Creek alleging that Guillou met in secret sessions with the project's proponents and that others were shut out. Walker's decision, delivered in May 1974, was an attempt al compromise, but few were satisfied. Largely on the basis of Decatur's need for water, Talker approved Lake Springer. His Approval, however, was contingent upon five conditions: (1) the drafting of a new water supply agreement between Decatur and the slate; (2) assurances of real greenbelt recreation benefits; (3) Lake Springer's water quality; (4) upstream recreation; and (5) assurances that Allerton Park would not be adversely affected. Decatur was worried about the conditions but pleased that Walker had not shut the door on Lake Springer. The COAP was disappointed that Walker had not taken a firm stand against the project and felt confirmed in its distrust of government officials. Most observers, however, felt that Walker was trying to carry water on both shoulders, taking no stand since some of his conditions might never be satisfied.

Review agencies produce facts
Meanwhile, the attacks on Lake Springer continued. Thousands of pages of evidence collected by scientists and government officials piled up against the project. The intangibles of political intrigue had won many decisions for Lake Springer, but hard facts produced by objective review agencies were building a case against which political clout would have little effect. The committee of scientists, set up under the modified agreement of 1970, found fault with the Corps' Environmental Impact Statement for Lake Springer, and the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission questioned the Corps' reliability in reservoir management. In April 1974, one month before Gov. Walker made his announcement, the Illinois Environmental Protection Agency released a report which was basically critical of Lake Springer. Later, the federal Environmental Protection Agency came out against the project unless it included a specific program of water quality improvement in the river upstream from the reservoir. Adding to the long list of woes. Lake Springer backers heard that the Environmental Policy Center, a Washington based citizen group, had labeled the reservoir one of the nation's 13 worst water development projects.

Sen. Percy, whose support had helped Lake Springer through several congressional appropriations, appeared to alter his position by asking the U.S. General Accounting Office to prepare a report on all aspects of the reservoir project. Percy, who had originally responded to Decatur's need for water, was now listening to objections from down-stream groups. He was also influenced by the continued problems with the operation of the Corps' Kaskaskia basin projects. Lake Carlyle and Lake Shelbyville. which were disasters in 1973 and 1974. The Corps' design for Lake Shelbyville was based on a prediction of severe flooding once in 87 years, but within four years, high flooding had occurred five times. Farmers, whose losses were heavy, wished they had never heard of the two flood control projects. Marina owners and recreation interests on Lake Shelbyville also suffered losses when the lake's level rose to 18 feet above normal. Permanent losses to recreation resulted from the killing of thousands of hardwood trees along the lake's shores. Bruce Hannon of the COAP said that the Corps' troubles at Lake Shelbyville were due to wrong guesses and that one mistake could wipe out Allerton Park. The Corps offered assurances that the Shelbyville mistakes would not be repeated at Lake Springer, but few were impressed. A member of Sen. Percy's staff gave his boss a firsthand account of Lake Carlyle, calling it a shambles and one of the poorest examples of engineering he had ever seen.

Added to the long list of troubles, the Lake Springer project was plagued by administrative boondoggles. It was revealed that John Guillou had supplied Gov. Walker with outdated information about Decatur's water needs. Apparently, Walker did not know that there was data indicating that Decatur needed less water than earlier predicted. There was also some doubt that he had seen the report issued by the Illinois Environmental Protection Agency, before he made his Lake Springer announcement. The confusion cast some doubts upon the Walker administration's credibility. Although he denied any pressure, Guillou resigned his state position and was almost immediately hired by the city of Decatur as a Lake Springer consultant. His first task was to prepare responses for Gov. Walker's five conditions.

Last round lost by Corps
The Corps experienced difficulties with numerous procedural delays related to its environmental impact statement. When it was finally finished, 300 copies were distributed, but the state received only one copy for review, and the governor's office, none. Antagonism between the state and the Corps grew stronger. The Corps reduced its 1975 Lake Springer funding request, blaming Gov. Walker's qualified support and continued silence as factors delaying progress. The Corps had other troubles.

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There were leaks about the contents of the project's General Design Memorandum which the COAP used to discredit Lake Springer. Flood control benefits, it was learned, comprised only 30.6 per cent of the project, while recreation benefits had increased to 53 per cent of total benefits.

Continued project delays gave the University of Illinois time to study and reevaluate its position on the project. There was new information gathered by the Harza engineers and University scientists. A second Harza report recommended that the University seek a binding agreement from the Corps about reservoir management in order to avoid the kind of problems afflicting Lake Shelbyville. Reviewing its long involvement with the federal project, the University administration became convinced that there was little reason to have confidence in the 1970 modified agreement. There was also a general belief that the Corps would not submit to any binding agreements. University Board of Trustees President Earl Hughes and Trustee Timothy Swain advocated withdrawing support, but administration officials were cautious, especially since many believed that Lake Springer was close to defeat anyway.

Decatur officials were indignant about the University's threatened action and sought a hearing before the Board's General Policy Committee. During the hearing great emphasis was placed upon Decatur's economic stakes in Lake Springer. John Guillou, present as an observer, was asked if other cities faced similar water supply problems. He replied, "Yes, but we're looking out for the city of Decatur." The COAP provided testimony which included a slide presentation on erosion and flooding at Lake Shelbyville. The underlying antagonism between a few of the trustees and Decatur officials was obvious, and in February 1975, the University of Illinois ended its long policy struggle by voting to oppose Lake Springer. The end of the University's vacillation was the beginning of the end, symbolically at least, for Oakley. Decades of lobbying and debate in which frustration alternated with false hopes finally came to an end on April 27, 1975. On that date the denouement of central Illinois' longest, most bitter and messiest public works drama came when Sen. Percy revealed that the General Accounting office report raised serious questions about project benefits calculated by the Corps. He said that if questionable benefits were excluded, the project's costbenefit ratio would drop to a negative figure, and therefore, he could no longer support federal funding. Costs had risen to $120 million, more than four times the cost of the original flood control plan. The Corps' Washington office announced that the Chicago district had overrated recreation benefits. A Corps' officer in the Chicago district said that water supply was really a local problem and that it would take "something awfully unusual to bring the project back."

The problem still exists
At present, Decatur is searching for an alternate water supply, and the idea of a multipurpose reservoir is hard to give up. Guillou, continuing on as the city's water consultant, has been studying alternatives, many of which were suggested by opponents during the long controversy. Guillou would like to design a project which does not involve other communities, but he also feels that the Sangamon River offers the best resource. Solving Decatur's water problems and simultaneously satisfying all other parties will not be easy.

Decatur is back where it started, more than 30 years ago, looking for more water and a way to save Lake Decatur. Like the grandiose schemes of a Shakespeare an over reacher, Oakley was dead. That was the bottom line, as they say. But what does it all mean? What is the impact of the years of contention? What are the lessons of Oakley?

First of all, as one who has followed the byways and subplots of the drama for eight years, I have seen that there is no simple conclusion. I have also come to realize that learning how government decisionmaking really happens is not easy. Oakley has been explained in political terms by some and in economic terms by others. The truth lies in the complexity of the case, in the fact that Oakley affected a much larger region in more ways than its proponents anticipated. Economic, political, geographical, geological, biological, and other factors which were interdependent, were often overlooked. Traditional. missionoriented bureaucratic methods failed to take this interdependence into account. Decisions which seemed to be clearcut on the surface were often hastily made and required later reformulation. Semisolutions were engineered, but no real solutions were proposed. New problems mingled with the old and people got tired and frustrated.

There were a number of moments in the project's history when, if the Oakley alliance had developed better communication and cooperation, the project conceivably could have been saved. Many issues could have been handled through consultation or even arbitration. Breaking down the larger, less resolvable problems into smaller units might have helped. Conflict in this sense would have been creative. The state tried consultation in its 1969 compromise efforts, but there was only temporary peace since the Corps was not a party to the agreement. Instead of cooperation there was stonewalling and communication breakdowns, secrecy and deception. Refusals to share planning power inevitably lead to deadend battles and the spread of conflict. The feeling of powerlessness experienced by upstream interests, especially the Commitee on Allerton Park, finally developed into an intense desire to defeat the Corps.

The Corps was caught in a network of dissension. The welter of protests proclaimed by thousands of citizens and hundreds of officials in scores of local, state and federal agencies was finally too vast for even the powerful Corps to cope with. Throughout Oakley's history, Corps' planning and public relations techniques were intensely criticized. In 1975, after almost 30 years of Oakley work, the Corps was stilt faced with the same fundamental problems. These problems might have been solved it some governmental unit designed to handle" the broad problems of land and water management existed. As it was, a critical mass of questions relating to the ways we use and should use our land and

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water resources, and the ways in which we fill and should fill our recreational. agricultural and water supply needs were never addressed. I hey are still with us.

Allerton Park and its bottomlands were the focal point of the conflict. The loss of the park's bottomlands -invaluable for both scientific research and recreation was not considered in Oakley's financial ledger. To Oakley's supporters, Allerton's sacrifice seemed feasible. It was expendable. To the park's defenders, however, the area's value transcended economics. Today, the matter appears to be settled, and Allerton Park remains intact, but the question of the values to be assigned to similar lands in the state remains.

Can all interests be served?
During Oakley's history, there were several attempts to overcome the lack of comprehensive planning, including the formation of the Upper Sangamon Valley Association and the fivecounty council of governments. The Springer Sangamon Environmental Research Program (SSERP) sponsored studies to learn more about causal relationships between the building of a dam and a variety of biological and social factors, ; but its effectiveness was hampered by the Corps' shared funding. The SSERP scientists collected and evaluated a quantity of biological data* about the region's ecology and also learned that there was little known about the social effects of water resources projects. That there are positive and negative effects is obvious, but what weight and what legal guarantees to assign to the problems and concerns of farmers, scientists. businessmen, environmentalists and the public generally is a terribly involved problem requiring time, money and public support.

Oakley was an illconceived project, wrong from the start, but the long drama of its rejection should make the citizens of Illinois recognize the weaknesses of narrow missionoriented planning and the need for a system of comprehensive land and water management with fair representation from all sides. 

*David T. Bell and Forrest L... Johnson, The Upper Sangamon River Basin: Final Report of the SpringerSangamon Environment Research program ( Department of Forestry and the Illinois Agricultural Experiment Station of the University of Illinois, Urbana, ill,, July 1, 1975).

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