\u201cThe reason we are a United States and fought the Revolutionary War was based primarily around taxation without representation,\u201d he said. \u201cThe A.P.A. is exactly that situation.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s like an H.O.A. out of control,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n
Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s quest has enmeshed the region\u2019s residents in an acrimonious debate over conservation, the propriety of using the park for military testing and exercises, and what it means to be a good neighbor.<\/p>\n
Annie Preston, who lives about two miles from Mr. Hopmeier in a home she built with her partner, said it would be easy to label her a NIMBY, but her opposition is more fundamental.<\/p>\n
\u201cI would be protesting if I lived in the suburbs,\u201d Ms. Preston, 34, said. \u201cI would protest it if I lived in a place that was not as environmentally or nature-oriented because I don\u2019t want to live in an increasingly militarized world,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Mr. Hopmeier said banning the military from the park would be \u201chorrifyingly bad.\u201d On a personal level, he said, he\u2019s been stung by the outrage and broader skepticism about his work. A career of constant travel and discretion has meant Mr. Hopmeier, who described himself as a \u201cmisanthropist,\u201d rarely developed close personal ties. <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve never felt part of a community and in all fairness, I didn\u2019t want to. I don\u2019t like people. I have no interest in them,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
But he feels different about his current situation. \u201cNow I know my neighbors,\u201d he said later. \u201cAnd I actually like them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mr. Hopmeier planted roots in the Adirondacks about a decade ago. He laid out $575,000 for an Atlas F Missile Silo that was decommissioned<\/a> in 1965 and is now the centerpiece of his 360-acre property, near the Jay Mountain Wilderness Area. About 72 of these sites were constructed, including 12 in New York and Vermon<\/a>t surrounding the now-shuttered Plattsburgh Air Force Base, where a key contingent of the nation\u2019s nuclear-capable aircraft operated from during the Cold War.<\/p>\n Mr. Hopmeier said he spent hundreds of thousands of dollars removing tons of trash that the community had dumped into the silo. Gallons of fetid water also had to be pumped out<\/a> and treated for contamination.<\/p>\n The care he takes to keep the surrounding woods unblemished reflects not just a conservation bent but a business imperative, he said. Armed service branches and private companies often train on the property with the latest laser, drone or communications technology. A stray beer can or cigarette butt could falsely register as a target and hinder that work, he said.<\/p>\n Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s clients appreciate his efforts. A Ukrainian defense manufacturer recently<\/a> spent two weeks in Lewis with the United States Air Force tinkering with radios.<\/p>\n The test \u2014 known as \u201cOperation Fuzzy Bunny\u201d \u2014 worked well, according to Mr. Hopmeier, in part because of the property\u2019s resemblance to Eastern Europe.<\/p>\n \u201cA great facility for applications that need low ambient signals (noise),\u201d reads<\/a> a brochure for Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s company, Unconventional Concepts.<\/p>\n Michael Kuiper, a Marine veteran who is an adjunct professor at the U.S. Naval Academy, said he recently brought about a dozen midshipmen to the facility. They slept in the woods and spent several days flying drones on the property.<\/p>\n Mr. Kuiper said the facility\u2019s narrow concrete corridors and the silo\u2019s 20 story-deep chamber, taller than the Statue of Liberty, were perfect places for the future naval officers to train without heading to sea.<\/p>\n \u201cThe missile silo was really helpful,\u201d he said. \u201cWe were simulating how you would go about clearing the inside of a ship.\u201d<\/p>\n Mr. Hopmeier is mostly loath to talk about his work or himself. At first, he resisted having his picture taken or even showing The New York Times the silo, which is surrounded by several large huts and more than two dozen tanks and other military vehicles.<\/p>\n But he spoke with some pride about a visit that former members of the 556th Strategic Missile Squadron<\/a> \u2014 who served in this facility and ones like it \u2014 made to the property. Before descending the stairs into the silo last week, Mr. Hopmeier pointed north toward Plattsburgh.<\/p>\n \u201cThose guys, when they walked up and looked toward Plattsburgh, they knew that, if they ever had to launch, everybody they knew was dead. They would be able to literally see the mushroom cloud rising above Plattsburgh,\u201d he said earlier in the day.<\/p>\n \u201cSo few people around here even knew that these missile silos were here. It\u2019s hard to understand how they could not know.\u201d<\/p>\n If Mr. Hopmeier is permitted to fire the howitzer, people will certainly know it. The gun would be set up on a hill and fired toward the side of a mountain down a range that is roughly the length of two football fields. The nonexplosive projectiles would be shot into a large metal shipping container full of sand or soil.<\/p>\n The howitzer\u2019s barrel wears out with each firing. The goal is to use the testing to explore ways to extend its life.<\/p>\n The opposition to Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s application is not necessarily driven by liberal politics. Many support the military (Fort Drum is 150 miles away); some have served or have veterans in their families. Their beef is simpler: They say that Mr. Hopmeier is a bad neighbor.<\/p>\n Gun shots and explosions emanate from his property without warning, they say. Large convoys of military-style vehicles roll through the town at all hours of the day. And mystery \u2014 along with some fear \u2014 abounds about what is going on at the silo.<\/p>\n Last September, the local community\u2019s anger with Mr. Hopmeier reached new heights when he hosted a special forces training exercise known as \u201cJaded Thunder.\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n Most residents had not seen the notice posted on the town\u2019s website warning of the impending shock and awe.<\/p>\n Jacob Gittler, a part-time hiking guide who works at a local school and is Ms. Preston\u2019s partner, described how the noise from the helicopters and gunfire sent their dogs, Kazoo and Atlee, into a frenzy. Kazoo frantically ran up and down the length of their house, barking and whining. Atlee mostly hid beneath the kitchen table. Mr. Gittler and Ms. Preston, ensconced on their couch, felt no less confused and unsafe.<\/p>\n \u201cAll of this just feels incredibly unneighborly,\u201d Mr. Gittler, 33, said. \u201cIt feels disturbingly obnoxious.\u201d<\/p>\n These residents \u2014 and several local environmental groups \u2014 have pushed back against Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s plan to fire the howitzer roughly 30 to 40 times a year between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. on weekdays.<\/p>\n \u201cJaded Thunder\u201d and the proposed artillery testing prompted Mr. Gittler to attend one of several community meetings. More than 1,000 messages were sent to the park agency opposing the artillery testing, including one from Mr. Gittler.<\/p>\n Neighbors registered their fear that the loud blasts could disrupt their slice of tranquillity. They worried about the impact on the local wildlife. And they expressed concern about the tests\u2019 ecological ramifications, with some worrying that the artillery barrages would imperil the drinking water.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s not taking the neighbors\u2019 peace and quiet into consideration,\u201d said Kim Wimett, 57, who has lived on a property bordering Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s for 25 years.<\/p>\n Mr. Hopmeier has also attended community meetings, arguing that a nearby mine made more noise and imposed more damage to the environment than anything he has done. He also resented that he was blamed for the \u201cJaded Thunder\u201d disruptions, rather than the military officials who supervised the event.<\/p>\n He has won over some people in Lewis, who said they appreciated Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s efforts to hire local residents, donate to the community and buy from their stores. Standing in a clearing of the Magic Pines Family Campground, Glen Delk, its owner, pointed to where about 20 visitors to Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s compound would be bunking later this summer.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s revenue for us,\u201d Mr. Delk said.<\/p>\n Sandy Denton, the owner of Denton Bear Necessities, has catered events hosted by Mr. Hopmeier. She said that he recently paid for another employee\u2019s daughter to travel to a riflery competition.<\/p>\n Ms. Denton, 57, suggested that Mr. Hopmeier might find less opposition if he lifted the veil a bit on his work. She has implored him to be more transparent about the facility\u2019s value and his contributions to the community. Neither Ms. Denton nor Bridget French, 42, who made sandwiches nearby, had seen the postings on the town website about \u201cJaded Thunder.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know he\u2019s a very private person, but I think he needs to open up more,\u201d Ms. French said.<\/p>\n Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s fight with the park agency shows no signs of ending soon. Keith McKeever, a spokesman for the Adirondack Park Agency, declined to address the specifics of Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s lawsuit, saying that the agency\u2019s mission was to \u201censure the long-term sustainability and preservation\u201d of the park.<\/p>\n He said that the hearing before an administrative law judge would \u201ccreate a record that can then be reviewed by the agency board,\u201d which would retain authority to make a final determination. Mr. Hopmeier contends that the whole process is tainted, accusing the judge and the board of having conflicts of interest.<\/p>\n In the meantime, Mr. Hopmeier is still getting plenty of use out of the missile silo and plans to host a drone competition sponsored by a research arm of the Air Force in June, mixing racing with simulated battlefield scenarios. A contingent from the Australian Defense force won<\/a> last year\u2019s event.<\/p>\n \u201cThis will be where commercial drone racing will meet defense technology,\u201d the event description states.<\/p>\n But as his battle with the park agency dragged on, Mr. Hopmeier lost his contract<\/a> for the howitzer testing. Army officials said the firing range was no longer needed, adding that it would be too expensive to do the proper safety assessments, according to The Adirondack Explorer,<\/a> which has closely covered this dispute.<\/p>\n Mr. Hopmeier intends to plow ahead with getting the permit for the firing range. Building it, he reasons, is the best way to attract new business.<\/p>\n Benjamin Oreskes<\/p>\n Reporter covering New York<\/p>\n Deep in the Adirondacks, a military and security contractor named Michael Hopmeier is seeking to test the internal ballistics of a piece of artillery called a howitzer. To do so, he needs a permit from the Adirondack Park Agency, which administers 6 million acres of the park.Getting permission has proved challenging. Mr. Hopmeier\u2019s quest has enmeshed the region\u2019s residents in an acrimonious debate over conservation, the propriety of using the park for military testing and exercises, and what it means to be a good neighbor.<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n\n
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