Emperor Joseph’s Roots

Abstract

On a May morning in 1957, ten thousand fish floated on the eastern edge of San Francisco Bay, their pale, upturned bellies bobbing on the surface of the dark water. The crowd of carcasses described an arc that stretched along the shore from Richmond’s harbor south to Point Isabel. Many striped bass, a prized game fish, were among the dead. Seth Gordon, director of California Department of Fish and Game (DFG), fielded complaints from anglers outraged by the fish kill. The Public Health Committee of the State Assembly passed a resolution admonishing DFG for its failure to enforce pollution control laws. Gordon told the committee members off. “We want to stop pollution,” he said, “but the law as it stands puts our Department in the position of a boxer going into the ring with one hand tied behind his back.” The ability to set and enforce pollution standards rested with California’s nine regional water pollution control boards. To effect any change, Gordon’s department had to prove to the boards’ satisfaction that pollution allowed by existing standards was harmful to fish, a challenge that had so far proved impossible. Responding to questions about the East Bay fish kill, he said, “We still don’t know what caused the die-off, or where it came from.” David Joseph was then starting out as a DFG biologist, armed with a doctorate in marine biology from the University of California at Los Angeles. Born in Connecticut, on a cooperative farm where his parents raised dairy cows and shade-grown tobacco with other immigrant Russian Jews, he’d grown up in Inglewood, in southern California, when the place was still a bucolic town and he could ride his horse to the beach. He’d met his wife, Marion, when they were both students at UCLA. “He was an outdoor guy,” she remembers. “He wasn’t a fisherman, he just loved the sea, loved the land. His work was always going to have something to do with protecting the environment.”