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Sept. 19, 2002
‘I’ve arrested most of your relatives’
For 45 seasons, conservation agent has brought grace, clarity to his role.
By Wayne Backler For the Springfield News-Leader
Carl Engelbrecht is in his 46th season as a Conservation Department agent in Newton County. Dean Curtis / News-Leader
Neosho — The category for the award didn’t even exist. It was created because nobody had ever lasted this long — 45 years in the Missouri Department of Conservation.
Carl Engelbrecht is living history because his career is a parallel to the department’s evolution.
Now in his 46th season, the 65-year-old Newton County agent is more conservation department legend than a name on an employee roster. Some have set him on a pedestal, while others have marveled at his public grace.
“I’ve seen him give a ticket and they thank him for it. I don’t know how he does it,” said Roger Schmidt, lifelong friend and a resource technician with the Missouri forestry division.
Younger agents look to Engelbrecht with a bit of awe, said his longtime boss, Creed Millsaps, former protection regional supervisor.
“I always opt for maturity and experience, and Carl is both of these,” Millsaps said.
On Engelbrecht’s living room wall in Neosho hangs the 12-by-12 inch commemorative plaque given in 2001. Down the hall is his office. (All county agents must work from home.)
“The years go by so fast,” he said. “It crept up on me.” His words held no sigh or quiver of regret, just frankness.
When Engelbrecht speaks, his 6-foot 4-inch frame resonates a baritone rhythm evoking cornfields, wash on the clothesline and dirt roads.
“History is something I’m not interested in because it’s already happened,” Engelbrecht said. “I like to look to the future.”
But Engelbrecht was witness to the state’s first modern deer hunt in 1959. He was around when the conservation department allowed a 1960 turkey season for the first time since the Great Depression. And Engelbrecht was there for Missouri conservation’s watershed moment, the 1976 passage of the Å-cent sales tax.
He first got a taste of conservation department work when he hauled exhibits part time to state and county fairs and sports shows in 1956.
That year he joined the department full time as a radio dispatcher for the forestry division in Camdenton. Three years later Engelbrecht was a conservation agent, assigned to Newton County, the borders of which he has worked inside ever since.
The outdoors attitude of today’s youth, the future of Newton County conservation and computer technology often fill Engelbrecht’s thoughts.
“It’s a fast world. They (teen-agers) don’t slow down and enjoy things around them,” he said. “Young people are playing computer games and golf rather than hunting and fishing.”
Also, outdoor neglect breeds outdoor disrespect, Engelbrecht added.
Littering has increased at the five fishing access points he patrols.
“Some people have a disregard for other people’s enjoyment. It’s not thinking about the other fellow. It’s really a problem. So many want to use it (public land) and so few want to take care of it.”
When Engelbrecht peers into the years ahead, he sees trouble for conservation in his county.
Newton County’s corn, wheat, milo and soybean farms — sustenance for quail — are disappearing. It’s a reason why the birds are dwindling, according to the conservation agent.
“In the ’60s, restaurants opened at 4 a.m. for the quail hunters,” he recollected. Bird dogs jostled and yelped in the truck beds. “I would park my car and walk in any direction and find quail hunters.”
Not now. Grain farming has been replaced by poultry, turkey and cattle ranches. “We used to have 500-acre plus farms. Most have been sold, subdivided and re-subdivided,” he said.
Another problem is his nemesis — the computer.
He speaks of the technology as if it’s blight.
“The computer’s been a monster,” he said.
Millsaps confirms Engelbrecht’s loathing of the machine, especially its use in communications. The telephone, rather than the coldness of e-mail, always will be Engelbrecht’s first choice, his supervisor said.
That approach also explains Engelbrecht’s success.
Complaints against agents come to Millsaps. “I can’t recall one on Carl in the time I’ve been here (since 1994).”
The reason is simple — Engelbrecht regards people with dignity.
“I remember times when we caught violators,” said Schmidt. “They wouldn’t say anything (to another agent) but they’d spill their guts for him.”
Every person must be treated as an individual, Engelbrecht said.
“I’m checking grandsons now,” Engelbrecht said. “Some of the grandsons are following in their grandfathers’ footsteps. I said to one, ‘I’ve arrested most of your relatives and family. They have all went to the penitentiary and done time.’ So far he’s listened to me (and remained lawful).”
The conservation agent has little to say about quitting.
“I don’t even talk retirement to him,” said Millsaps. “That’s not even in his vocabulary.”
‘I’ve arrested most of your relatives’
For 45 seasons, conservation agent has brought grace, clarity to his role.
By Wayne Backler For the Springfield News-Leader
Carl Engelbrecht is in his 46th season as a Conservation Department agent in Newton County. Dean Curtis / News-Leader
Neosho — The category for the award didn’t even exist. It was created because nobody had ever lasted this long — 45 years in the Missouri Department of Conservation.
Carl Engelbrecht is living history because his career is a parallel to the department’s evolution.
Now in his 46th season, the 65-year-old Newton County agent is more conservation department legend than a name on an employee roster. Some have set him on a pedestal, while others have marveled at his public grace.
“I’ve seen him give a ticket and they thank him for it. I don’t know how he does it,” said Roger Schmidt, lifelong friend and a resource technician with the Missouri forestry division.
Younger agents look to Engelbrecht with a bit of awe, said his longtime boss, Creed Millsaps, former protection regional supervisor.
“I always opt for maturity and experience, and Carl is both of these,” Millsaps said.
On Engelbrecht’s living room wall in Neosho hangs the 12-by-12 inch commemorative plaque given in 2001. Down the hall is his office. (All county agents must work from home.)
“The years go by so fast,” he said. “It crept up on me.” His words held no sigh or quiver of regret, just frankness.
When Engelbrecht speaks, his 6-foot 4-inch frame resonates a baritone rhythm evoking cornfields, wash on the clothesline and dirt roads.
“History is something I’m not interested in because it’s already happened,” Engelbrecht said. “I like to look to the future.”
But Engelbrecht was witness to the state’s first modern deer hunt in 1959. He was around when the conservation department allowed a 1960 turkey season for the first time since the Great Depression. And Engelbrecht was there for Missouri conservation’s watershed moment, the 1976 passage of the Å-cent sales tax.
He first got a taste of conservation department work when he hauled exhibits part time to state and county fairs and sports shows in 1956.
That year he joined the department full time as a radio dispatcher for the forestry division in Camdenton. Three years later Engelbrecht was a conservation agent, assigned to Newton County, the borders of which he has worked inside ever since.
The outdoors attitude of today’s youth, the future of Newton County conservation and computer technology often fill Engelbrecht’s thoughts.
“It’s a fast world. They (teen-agers) don’t slow down and enjoy things around them,” he said. “Young people are playing computer games and golf rather than hunting and fishing.”
Also, outdoor neglect breeds outdoor disrespect, Engelbrecht added.
Littering has increased at the five fishing access points he patrols.
“Some people have a disregard for other people’s enjoyment. It’s not thinking about the other fellow. It’s really a problem. So many want to use it (public land) and so few want to take care of it.”
When Engelbrecht peers into the years ahead, he sees trouble for conservation in his county.
Newton County’s corn, wheat, milo and soybean farms — sustenance for quail — are disappearing. It’s a reason why the birds are dwindling, according to the conservation agent.
“In the ’60s, restaurants opened at 4 a.m. for the quail hunters,” he recollected. Bird dogs jostled and yelped in the truck beds. “I would park my car and walk in any direction and find quail hunters.”
Not now. Grain farming has been replaced by poultry, turkey and cattle ranches. “We used to have 500-acre plus farms. Most have been sold, subdivided and re-subdivided,” he said.
Another problem is his nemesis — the computer.
He speaks of the technology as if it’s blight.
“The computer’s been a monster,” he said.
Millsaps confirms Engelbrecht’s loathing of the machine, especially its use in communications. The telephone, rather than the coldness of e-mail, always will be Engelbrecht’s first choice, his supervisor said.
That approach also explains Engelbrecht’s success.
Complaints against agents come to Millsaps. “I can’t recall one on Carl in the time I’ve been here (since 1994).”
The reason is simple — Engelbrecht regards people with dignity.
“I remember times when we caught violators,” said Schmidt. “They wouldn’t say anything (to another agent) but they’d spill their guts for him.”
Every person must be treated as an individual, Engelbrecht said.
“I’m checking grandsons now,” Engelbrecht said. “Some of the grandsons are following in their grandfathers’ footsteps. I said to one, ‘I’ve arrested most of your relatives and family. They have all went to the penitentiary and done time.’ So far he’s listened to me (and remained lawful).”
The conservation agent has little to say about quitting.
“I don’t even talk retirement to him,” said Millsaps. “That’s not even in his vocabulary.”
