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Disney On Ice: Worlds of Enchantment - Knoxville   

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Disney On Ice: Worlds of Enchantment | Knoxville Civic Coliseum (Knoxville) Friday, November 13, 2020 at 10:30 AM

          

Disney On Ice: Worlds of Enchantment - Knoxville   

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Disney On Ice: Worlds of Enchantment | Knoxville Civic Coliseum (Knoxville) Friday, November 13, 2020 at 7:00 PM

          

To keep going, you need three things'   

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To keep going, you need three things'
  George Hale in his own words

Everyone at Blueberry Broadcasting will tell you the same thing one of the best parts of our day is when we interact with George Hale. Sometimes he'll cross the hall to visit The Mike and Mike Show and flirt with one of our female guests or rail against the New York Yankees. We still have his famous 2004 'Take that you Yankee bastards!' quote ready to play at any time. Some mornings, I sneak into the GHRT studio, sit on the floor like a little kid and just listen while they do the show.

Even before I sat down to interview George for this story, I knew I wanted to present it as a first-person narrative. Nobody could tell George Hale's story better than George Hale. All I needed to do was ask questions and then step out of the way. With only a few tweaks from me, what follows are highlights in George's words - from two interviews recorded over the last two weeks. This barely scratches the surface we're talking about a man who has been a broadcaster in seven different decades. George's full story could only be told in a book. Mike Dow

My mother and father used to tell a story about me that took place at our family home in Jacksonville, Florida. I was 6 or 7 years old and they say that I cut off part of my grandmother's broomstick, attached it to a base and sat out in the backyard 'broadcasting' with this makeshift microphone. I would describe the traffic going down Atlantic Boulevard toward the beach, making up stories about the people in the cars and what their plans might be for the day. That was back when radio was well, it was all we had. When my family told this story, they would usually include the words, 'George just likes to talk.'

There were only four things I ever considered doing for a living. I was either going to be a radio announcer, a sports writer, an actor or an airline pilot. I absolutely loved radio still do.

My brother and I shared the same bedroom, and I would take my radio to bed and listen to boxing matches. I would score the fight in my head based on what I was hearing and then become furious if the judges didn't score it the same way. My brother would holler out to my mother, 'He's doing it again!' I would make a kind of tent out of the bed and I'd be under the covers with an old Silvertone a tube radio that would need time to warm up. Those tubes would start glowing and throwing heat, which would help keep me warm in the winter.

We moved to New York when I was in the 4th grade. Dad was a Marine engineer with the Moran Towing Company in Staten Island. My mother and father were very good about taking us to places like Radio City Music Hall, Madison Square Garden and the Statue of Liberty. You can just imagine how exciting that was for a boy who loved radio there I was in the heart of radio. To see live radio shows take place as they were going out to millions of people was an amazing experience.

Looking back, I think my father's career influenced my decision to join the Navy. During the Korean War, I became a Navy Medic after going through the training program at Great Lakes Naval Hospital in Illinois. The U.S. Navy led me directly into broadcasting.

I was stationed at Corpus Christi Naval Air Station in Texas in the early 50s. Some of the wounded arrived from Korea and they would stay there until they were hopefully well enough to go home. To keep the wounded entertained, an Electrician's Mate and myself built a carrier current radio station. We had a console and some turntables to play transcription discs. I'd even interview nurses and give the menu for the day. This operation was funded by the Admiral, who loved the idea that we were broadcasting just to the wards. At least that's what we thought. One day some people called to tell us they were listening to our show in downtown Corpus Christi. We were a little concerned that the F.C.C. was going to come after us the U.S. Navy's pirate radio station!

After Texas, I was transferred to the University of Tennessee ROTC setup in Knoxville and that's when I started hanging around the local radio stations. You hear about 'gym rats' people who hang out at the gym all the time. I was a 'radio rat.' I would roll out of bed and go to the station for the day it became second nature. They couldn't get me to leave!

I went to a school called School of Radio Technique in New York City. All of my instructors were NBC employees the best of the best. I was formally trained at Radio City. During the day, I worked on Fifth Avenue at Dell Publishing and went to school at night.

I had a bunch of different jobs on the side. I cleaned monkey cages at the zoo, I worked at a grocery store, and I also worked as an usher at the Paramount Theatre for movies and shows. Eddie Fisher played there. Sinatra played there. You learn quickly when you're an usher. For example, couples up in the balcony would sometimes become how can I put this? amorous. I learned to turn my flashlight off.

Sometimes, I would show up early at Radio City and I'd go down below NBC where they had a bowling alley. One day, there was a guy there who told me his name was Buddy. I noticed Buddy was usually a bit 'lit' if you know what I mean. After bowling against him three or four times, I discovered that I had been bowling with Buddy Rich the great drummer. He was performing at the Paramount at that time.

GH_wabiI was on the air as a disc jockey in New Jersey at this time on WWBZ and I knew the chief announcer at NBC. I went to see him one day and told him that I wanted to do television. He said, 'Look, this is New York. You can't just break into TV here. You need to get out there and get some experience.' Between the two of us, we discovered that a radio/TV combo in Bangor, Maine called WABI was looking for a staff announcer, so I set up an interview and drove an old Chevy to Bangor to take an audition. I guess it went OK. I made it back to New York, walked through the door, and my mother told me that a telegram had arrived. It said, 'We want you.'

My original plan was to come to Bangor and stay here for one year. That was in 1953. My brother was the Program Director for WSCR in Scranton and he told me, 'Get a year under your belt and get to a bigger market.' I decided I liked it here.

At first I was the country music announcer for the WABI noon-time show, and then I did sports in the afternoon. The first song I ever played on the radio in Bangor was 'Your Cheating Heart' by Hank Williams.

When I arrived in Bangor, the most popular radio announcer in town was a man I later succeeded. His name was John McRae he was the big cheese. My given name is George McHale and I thought my last name might be too close to his so I dropped the 'Mc' and just went with 'George Hale.' It didn't have anything to do with 'show-biz,' it was just easier to say and easier to remember. Later on, it became an asset because it gave me a little bit of a personal life.

When I walked into downtown Bangor for the first time, The Park Theatre was at the corner of the hill where WABI was located. I remember they had a sign on the theatre that read 'Finest Talking Pictures.' I called my brother and said 'Good Lord. They just got talkies' here!'

I married not too long after arriving in Bangor, and my kids were born here. We built a house in Brewer and I remember when my daughter Julie caught on that her father had a job that was a little different from most parents. I discovered that she was an entrepreneurial type when one of my neighbors let me in on what she'd been up to.

She had been putting little pieces of paper in front of me and asking me to sign them. She was about 8 I didn't know what she wanted them for I just signed away and forgot about it. She took those autographs all over the neighborhood and sold them for a dime a piece. When I found out what was going on, I suggested that it might not have been a good plan.

In those days, if you were a broadcaster, you did a little bit of everything. On WABI, I did the morning show, the noon show, sports, TV - I even did the farm show. If you wanted to keep going in broadcasting, you needed to branch out and learn as many different things as possible.

Television was just beginning, and if you were on TV in those days you were somebody special. People treated you like royalty. You were like Elvis if you were on TV. There was a TV personality in town named Hal Shaw and people would run up just to touch him. These days, everybody is on TV everyone's a star.

When WABI moved to their current location on Hildreth Street, I interviewed Little Richard on my show. It was at a time when he had gotten out of the music business to become a preacher and it was absolutely the wildest interview I ever did. After I introduced him on the air, I should have just left the room because he took over. His real name is Richard Pennimen, and even when he was 'off,' he was 'on.' He's always on. He told me how he had given up rock and roll to preach the gospel and he did it in a wildly entertaining way. The craziest interview I ever did.

One day in 1964, Dan Fulkerson, a man I had hired as a copywriter came to me and said, 'I've written a song and I know a singer who wants to record it. Would you be willing to record it here at WABI?' So we came in at night to record the song. Dan was there along with the singer - a man named Dick Curless. That night, I recorded Dick Curless singing Dan's song, 'A Tombstone Every Mile,' on reel-to-reel tape in the production studio at WABI. If I remember correctly, that version was the first one to be released, and the tape was later purchased by Capitol Records who had Dick re-record the song with a studio group. I recorded the original version of 'A Tombstone Every Mile' on 35 Hildreth St. at WABI.

As I mentioned earlier, I've always liked airplanes. Eventually, I became a part owner of two different airplanes. The thing about being a pilot is you need to keep your flying skills sharp, so I would sometimes take what I called the '$100 hamburger flight.' I would fly out of Bangor, land in Portland for a hamburger and then fly back to Bangor. It hasn't been that long since I stopped flying planes. Flying is the sort of thing you either do a lot of or you don't do it at all.

Once when I was in Boston, I heard a new radio program called 'American Top 40,' and I wanted to bring it to Bangor. This must have been around 1970. At that time, the show had just started and they were only doing large markets I think they were on seven stations. I called and told them I was interested in airing it here. A short time later, I was in my office one day when the phone rang and a man's voice said, 'Could I speak to George Hale? This is Casey Kasem.' He said he had heard me on the air while driving up to Baxter State Park to climb Mt. Katahdin. He assured me that he would try to make American Top 40 available for us and sure enough, they did. We were the first station in Maine and possibly the first small market station in the country to carry it.

Being involved in sports was just something I knew would happen, although I thought I would be writing about sports instead of calling the games on the radio and TV.

Before I started doing play-by-play, they had me test the water by doing live commercials during the games. They hired all of the mobile broadcast equipment from RCA we didn't have anything to do games at that time they brought a crew in.

I remember doing live commercials for the W.T. Grant store, and my first set of live commercials involved ladies underwear. I had an earpiece so I could hear the director, but the audience didn't know that. So I started doing this commercial for ladies underwear and these comments started coming into my ear. I was talking about bras and panties and trying to make them sound like they were the greatest thing ever. So in my ear, while I'm trying to do this live commercial, I hear 'Oh, I bet you look sweet in those panties, dear.' I started laughing I just broke up and it was going out live! I had to say something like, 'They come in pink and blue and brown,' and the voice in my ear would start up again, 'Oh, you'd look lovely in the brown ones!'

Later, I made a suggestion that we start covering University of Maine football. They took me up on that and we began the tradition of covering UMaine football which grew into what it is today. I'm still involved in covering the games for television and I also do sports commentary every Friday on TV 5.

People still come up to me on a regular basis to talk about the tournament games. I covered high school tourney games for many years.

Sports have been a huge part of my life. I see myself in one of my great-grandchildren now and it scares me. He is exactly the way I was when I was a kid, except he has the internet and a Smartphone and everything else to keep up on sports.

I've been interested in politics off and on for my entire life, although I've never run for elected office. I can remember working on the first Muskie campaign, and I became friends with a lot of politicians both Republican and Democrat. I interviewed Margaret Chase Smith and Senator Joseph McCarthy.

When they approached me about being part of a politically-oriented morning show, I wasn't interested at the beginning. I finally told them, 'I'll do it, but I would like to keep my show on WABI.' I wanted to make sure that audience was served, so I would record my show on the AM station at around 5 a.m. and then go across the hall to do the FM show on 103.9. I did both for about a year and then they asked me if I knew Ric Tyler.

GHRT3One morning, Ric came in and we did a test show. They put us in the room to record an audition and we started fighting immediately.

A few days later, Jeff Pierce (then operations manager) said, 'That's our show' and on Nov. 4, 2004, we started doing a program called 'Maine in the Morning.' Later, I think I suggested that we change the name of the show to 'The George Hale Ric Tyler Show.' We were the two most recognizable names in the market so why not have our names in the title? That way, listeners would be able to identify one way or another and say 'I'm with George' or 'I'm with Ric.' My name appears first in the show only because I'm the oldest.

I really get along pretty well with Ric. Sure, we fight sometimes. I'm never going to change him and he's never going to change me, but there are many times when we're on the same wavelength.

People ask, 'Do you really get mad at each other?' It's never personal, but there are some stances he takes that I don't like. And there are some positions that I have that he sure as heck doesn't like.

I hear this question a lot - 'When are you going to retire?' The only answer I have to that is, 'Would you ask a successful photographer to stop taking pictures? What I do is me. When I get out of bed and come in here, I'm not working. I've never done anything in the broadcast business just for money never. I've had some great offers to leave over the years and I didn't do it. I've been happy here.

And there is also the fact that my wife passed away a few years back and I need a reason to get up in the morning.

You can be sure that there will come a time when my career will wind down. Will it come to an end? You're damn right.

You need three things to keep going. First, you need to want to keep going. If you don't want to keep going, you're dead. Secondly, you need to be healthy enough to do it. I've taken pretty good care of myself so I'm lucky that way, but I also work at it. The third thing is, you need to have someone who wants you to do it. Now if you have those three things, you can go forever.

Mike Dow is part of The Mike and Mike Show airing each morning on Kiss 94.5. Check him out at www.Facebook.com/MikeandMike and www.MikeDow.net.


          

Yellowstone Ablaze: The Fires of 1988    

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On June 30, 1988, lightning struck a tree in the Crown Butte region of Yellowstone National Park, in the park’s far northwest corner near where the borders of Idaho, Montana and Wyoming meet. The lightning bolt started a small forest fire, which became known as the Fan Fire. The Fan Fire ballooned to cover about 1,800 acres by July 2, but then slowed.

The Fan Fire was the first fire of that summer to erupt within Yellowstone National Park, though the Storm Creek fire had ignited about a week earlier north of the park boundary and would eventually make its way into the park proper.

Park fire experts noted the Fan Fire’s ignition and did … nothing.

Then, in rapid succession over a period of about two weeks, a series of fires broke out across Yellowstone National Park. The largest were named Fan, North Fork, Clover-Mist, Hellroaring, Storm Creek, Mink, Snake and Huck. They grew so large they were no longer fires but “complexes,” according to a 1994 report issued by the U.S. Department of the Interior. During that overheated summer of 1988, they burned about 683,000 of the park’s 2.2 million acres and about 1.2 million acres total within the greater Yellowstone area, which includes several national forests adjoining the park as well as Grand Teton National Park.

Yellowstone’s fire policy

Fire experts originally did nothing to combat the blazes because that was park policy—a policy that surprised a lot of reporters and politicians, including the president of the United States. President Ronald Reagan, roused to comment on the policy, admitted that he hadn’t known about it until September 14, after the fires had been long under way.

The understanding of fire in natural ecosystems had been growing for years prior to the Yellowstone conflagrations, and one of the legislative mandates of Yellowstone National Park is to maintain as nearly as possible “primitive ecological conditions.”

Fire is one of the most basic natural processes. In fact, many plant species within the park are fire-adapted. Some lodgepole pines, which make up about 80 percent of the park’s forests, have cones that are sealed by resin until the intense heat of fire cracks them open and releases the seeds. Fire also stimulates regeneration of sagebrush, aspen and willow.

Since the mid-1970s, park fire policy had been to allow natural fires—started by lightning or other natural causes—to burn. Human-caused fires were extinguished. The park also had an active prescribed burn program to try to reduce fuel loads—fallen trees and dried vegetation—that could contribute to catastrophic burns. In 1975, an environmental assessment was prepared which allowed natural burning on 1.7 million of the park’s 2.2 million acres.

In the years between this assessment and the 1988 fires, the policy was a quiet, uncontroversial success. Tens of thousands of lightning strikes simply fizzled. There were 140 fires, but most burned themselves out after swallowing a few acres. The average burn size was 250 acres. The largest fire during that time was 7,400 acres.

A very dry year

In 1988, as in past years, each fire was evaluated individually to determine how it related to the fire plan. The Fan Fire, for instance, a natural fire, was permitted to burn at first. In the early summer, before the Fan Fire struck, 20 lightning-caused fires had hit the park. Eleven burned themselves out, just like fires in the previous seasons. So park scientists and managers seemed justified in sticking to their fire plan.

But weather conditions in 1988 in Yellowstone Park were taking on a dimension not seen since the park was established in 1872. After a wet spring, the summer months were the driest ever recorded. Still, by July 15, only 8,500 acres had burned in the entire greater Yellowstone ecosystem. But a week later, visitors were noticing the smoke, and the national news media was starting to pay attention to the situation. Dry conditions and high winds were creating perfect conditions for massive fires.

Fires out of control

By July 21, things were spiraling out of control. Park officials decided to try to suppress all new and existing fires as resources allowed. At the time, all the fires in the park covered a total of about 17,000 acres—about 2.5 percent of the area that eventually burned.

In a paper prepared shortly after the fires for the journal Northwest Science, YNP technical writer Paul Schullery writes, “Extreme fire behavior became nearly the order of the day, as fires ran as much as 10 miles in a day, sending embers as much as a mile and a half ahead of the main fire to create dozens of ‘spot fires.’ The presence of so many spot fires, along with the rapid and wide advance of the main fires, made it impossible to fight the fires head-on without risking many lives. Hundreds of miles of fire lines were constructed, but with the spotting behavior fires routinely jumped usual barriers such as rivers and roads.”

“Standard hand- or bulldozer-built lines were no barrier at all,” Schullery continues. “Among the examples of black humor (an appropriate term, if ever there was one) with firefighters was, ‘What's black on both sides and brown in the middle?’ The answer: a bulldozer line in Yellowstone.”

At the peak of firefighting efforts, 9,500 military and civilian firefighters were engaged, using dozens of helicopters and more than 100 fire trucks to try to stop the blazes. Costs passed $120 million. Remarkably, no firefighters died fighting the fires in Yellowstone, though there were two fire-related deaths outside the park.

Students from an elementary school sent trees to firefighters to replace the ones lost. Women of Broadus, Mont., sent them homemade cookies. Chief Ranger Dan Sholly wrote the women a thank-you note: “From the speed with which they disappeared, I know they were appreciated by all of us in the fire camp and on the fireline.”

Despite the manpower, the fires continued to grow. A total of 248 fires ignited that summer, but the seven largest caused 95 percent of the damage. On July 5, the Lava fire started; July 11, the Mink and Clover fires; July 22, North Fork fire; July 23, the Clover and Mist fires join; and so on. There were eventually a total of eight fire complexes—depending on who’s counting—with every section of the park aflame.

News coverage

But if the fire line was hot, the descriptive prose was hotter still. Media reporting was often poorly informed and contradictory. The words disaster, devastating and catastrophic appeared often. The New York Times report noted, “stretches of charred, lifeless landscape left by the months of fires.”

Newspapers began covering the story in early July almost as soon as the fires ignited, while national broadcast television coverage came weeks later. The ABC and NBC television networks broadcast their first stories on July 25. CBS broadcast its first story on August 22.

Ohio State University journalism professor Conrad Smith writes in a 1991 paper, “The Yellowstone fires were more newsworthy in the west than in the east. They made the front page of the Los Angeles Times 39 times, starting on July 18 with a news brief about wildfires in the West; the front page of the Washington Post three times, starting on September 8 after the fire’s visit to the Old Faithful Geyser Complex; and the front page of the New York Times three times, starting on September 11 when the secretaries of Interior and Agriculture arrived in Yellowstone for an inspection.”

Both print and broadcast media made some serious mistakes in their coverage. For instance, on July 21, 1988, the park abandoned its “let-burn” policy and began suppressing all fires. But as late as September 1, the New York Times was still reporting that some fires were being allowed to burn. And on September 10, the paper reported on criticism by Wyoming Republican U.S. senators Alan Simpson and Malcolm Wallop of Yellowstone’s natural burn policy, despite the fact that this hadn’t been the policy since mid-July.

But that was nothing compared to an August 30 news story on ABC television featuring an interview with “Stanley Mott, director, National Park Service.” Except that the director of the National Park Service at the time was William Penn Mott, and the ABC interviewee was a tourist.

Local media did better in the assessments of coverage produced by scholars later, especially Montana’s Billings Gazette’s coverage of the economic impact on park-dependent businesses by Robert Ekey, and Wyoming’s Casper Star-Tribune’s coverage of the ecological dynamics by Andrew Melnykovich and Geoff O’Gara.

But the rest of the nation got a different story. Time captured the spirit of the coverage when its editors wrote, “The fires have ruined 1.2 million acres of Yellowstone and adjoining national forests.”

Politics

All this hyperbole quickly worked its way into the political discourse. President Reagan called the park fire policy “cockamamie.”

''It's a disaster,'' U.S. Department of the Interior Secretary Donald P. Hodel told the New York Times as he and U.S. Department of Agriculture Secretary Richard E. Lyng visited the park. ''I think it's devastating, and we've only seen part of it.”

Wyoming’s Sen. Wallop said the park’s 16-year-old “let-burn” policy was “absurd” and scientifically unsound. He joined with Sen. Alan Simpson in calling for the resignation of National Park Service Director Mott. Montana Democratic Sen. John Melcher told The New York Times, “They'll never go back to this policy. From now on the policy will be putting the fire out when they see the flames.”

Bob Barbee, then the superintendent of Yellowstone, was cast as the bad guy in the park fire drama. In a 2013 retrospective piece about the fires, Barbee told the New York Times, “It’s like, ‘Well, why don’t you just put it out?’ Well, why don’t you just stop the hurricane or the tornado? You don’t just put it out.”

On Sept. 11, 1988, a quarter-inch of snow fell across the greater Yellowstone area, and the fires quickly died out. Underneath that quarter-inch of snow lay the blackened carcasses of trees, bleached-white, heat-blasted soils—and deep uncertainty about post-fire future of the park. It was accepted wisdom that Yellowstone wouldn’t recover for a hundred years.

Even so, Yellowstone’s big fires were not a surprise to everyone. Paul Schullery wrote in his 1989 Northwest Science article, “Only months before the fires of 1988, a preliminary research report by Dr. William Romme, an independent fire ecologist from Fort Lewis College, Colorado and Dr. Don Despain, NPS plant ecologist, suggested that the Yellowstone area fire regime involved many small fires interspersed every 200-400 years by massive fires that swept across large portions of the park. Romme and Despain concluded that ‘another major burning cycle may begin within the next century, as extensive areas are now developing flammable late successional forests.’”

During the fires themselves, Despain achieved a level of notoriety unusual for a plant ecologist when he showed a Denver Post reporter a fire impact research plot near Ice Lake near Norris Geyser Basin. Environment writer Todd Wilkinson described the incident recently in a Jackson Hole News & Guide column published in April 2015: “The site was established to allow researchers to gauge how fire, drought and disease affect arboreal ecology. As a wildfire approached and swept across his research area, Despain playfully muttered, ‘Burn, baby, burn.’ His quote was included in [the Post’s] story, but a headline writer bannered the words as if Despain were a pyro, not caring if the entire park went up in flames. Wyoming politicians, including U.S. Sens. Malcolm Wallop and Alan K. Simpson, had a field day skewering park officials. Despain was ordered not to talk to reporters for two weeks.”

Recovery

But Despain and the other fire scientists had the last word. The recovery in Yellowstone was a slam dunk for science and the let-burn forest policy.

As little as five years after the fires, the park was recovering well. "The forest is going to be re-established. In many cases, the seedling density is greater than the original stand density," said Monica Turner of the Oak Ridge National Laboratory at a 1993 meeting in Jackson held to discuss the implications of the 1988 fire. “In many burned-over areas where mature lodgepole pines once stood,” Turner said, “the number of established seedlings is eight times as large as the original number of trees. Many lodgepole seeds require fire to open.”

The fires also put to rest the Bambi myth—that wildlife flees in panic from approaching flames. At the same 1993 conference, grizzly bear researcher Steve French said, “We didn't see a lot of stress on animals. Bison right in front of the fire line only moved out of the way very casually,” he said.

A survey French conducted of large animal deaths found more than 390 documented deaths from fire, nearly all from smoke inhalation. Of those, 333 were elk, 32 mule deer, 12 moose, nine bison and six black bears. There were no antelope, mountain lion, grizzly bear or bighorn sheep carcasses. With rare exceptions, animals saw the flames coming and simply stepped aside.

University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point professor Mark Boyce said in a talk at the conference that if he were superintendent of Yellowstone, "I would maintain fire every chance I had. I would do my best to eradicate this species”—at this, he showed a slide of Smokey Bear, the patron saint of fire suppression advertisements—“from the park."

Research findings on the ecological impacts of the Yellowstone fires indicate there were very few cases—one-tenth of one percent of the burned area—where high fire temperatures burned deep roots. The impact on park wildlife was minimal. Despite early concerns, white bark pine and aspen came back.

The Yellowstone fires were a watershed in the public understanding of fire’s impact on ecosystems. Wild-land fires have become more easily tolerated except in cases where fires threaten people’s houses and structures--an increasing problem as more people move into the “urban-wild-land interface.” But climate studies indicate that large fires will probably become more frequent around the world. In the Rocky Mountain West, there has already been an increase in the frequency and severity of wild-land fires over the last 25 years, according to a 2008 U.S. Department of the Interior report. A sophisticated, context-sensitive understanding of fire is critical for both safety and ecological reasons. The lessons from Yellowstone in 1988 should inform decisions about this coming whirlwind.

Resources

Illustrations


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2020-08-14 21:31:31