June 4, 2011 · 6:31 PM

Anaconda and Butte, Montana: Putting the FUN Back in Superfund

Did you know that the EPA has a Superfund Coloring Book? It’s true! If you have a Java-enabled web browser you can color a polluted town, the EPA cleanup worker that saves the day, the waste removal truck, or the newly clean town. If your browser is not Java-enabled, you’ll just have to print them out to color, the old fashioned way.

This was one of the more unusual books I discovered when looking up titles that would be relevant to last Saturday’s adventure.

Depending on how you look at it, I either visited three Superfund sites that day, or one enormous one—in fact, the largest in the US. Because they’re all connected by Anaconda Copper Company, a company that only exists today as yet another environmental liability for BP. But in the days of yore, Anaconda Copper was a booming operation responsible for the economic livelihood of several Montana towns along the Clark Fork River, including Butte and Anaconda.

Related to all this mining activity, some important moments in labor union history took place. The Granite Mountain Fire, which killed 168 miners in Butte, sparked an important strike, and the Anaconda Road Massacre happened a few years later. If you’re interested in finding out more about the labor movement in the area, watch Butte, America, a documentary that aired on PBS in 2009. Another documentary, An Injury to One, explores the death of Butte IWW organizer Frank Little. Interesting book selections include Anaconda: Labor, Community, and Culture in Montana’s Smelter City and Anaconda, Montana: Copper Smelting Boomtown on the Western Frontier.

But we’re here to talk about large-scale environmental disaster as it relates to that history. And lucky us! The Anaconda Copper Company gave us enough to last us a very long time.

Site #1: The Anaconda Stack (Anaconda, Montana)

Anaconda is about six miles away from I-90, but the 585-foot stack, completed in 1918, acts as a beacon to visitors. The town was founded by Marcus Daly when he started Anaconda Copper—which for a short time was the fourth largest company in the world. The stack has not been operational since 1980, but not every little town can boast having the tallest freestanding piece of masonry in the world, so the stack remains.

Since the last time I visited, I had read about both the creation of Anaconda Stack State Park, as well as the opening of Jack Nicholas’ golf course “The Old Works,” on the site of—well, the old works—just on the other side of town. Much to my chagrin, “Anaconda Stack State Park” mostly consists of a viewing platform at the north end of town with some interpretive signage. Adding insult to injury, it’s not even an adequate viewing site: power lines and passing trains obscure a visitor’s view of the stack, and you can’t see the enormous slag piles (at left in the above photo) or the tailings ponds (a former wetlands area) from the platform. Lucky for me, my own gumshoeing got me some better views, and Brad Tyer’s account of his behind-the-scenes tour filled in the holes.

It’s as if the state of Montana doesn’t want people to see the catastrophic damage that mining can do…!

Site #2: The Berkeley Pit/Silver Bow Creek (Butte, Montana)

How many Superfund sites do people pay $2 each to see? Only one that I know of—the Berkeley Pit in Butte, Montana.

Shaft mining is pretty dangerous, so this pit mine was opened in 1955 to reduce the number of miner deaths Anaconda Copper had been experiencing in the previous decades. When the pit mine stopped operating in the early 80s, water started accumulating at the bottom. It is now a one mile long by a half-mile wide poisonous lake! The waters contain high levels of zinc, copper, cadmium, and more, giving the lake a sheen that can only be described by the Crayola color “Burnt Sienna.”

Then sometime in the mid-90s migrating snow geese were passing through Butte. Shortly after they showed up, 342 of their carcasses were recovered from around the site. They drank the water. When I visited in 1996, speakers were placed around the pit to play strange sounds at 45 second intervals to scare away any curious birds. This past time, the noises were gone—meaning the noise method was likely not working. (Be sure to visit PitWatch online!)

The Clark Fork River starts in Butte as Silver Bow Creek, and the Creek is also part of the Berkeley Pit Superfund Complex. “Why should I care?” you ask, “I’m all the way over here in Portland!” The Clark Fork River winds through much of western Montana, provides drinking water for Missoula, and is eventually emptied into the Lake Pend Oreille. The lake then flows into the Pend Oreille River, which in turn empties into the mighty Columbia River. In other words, this area of Montana is ecologically connected to Portland, where this blog post finds many of you.

Not concerned yet?

Site #3: Milltown Reservoir/Clark Fork River (Bonner, Montana)

A curious thing exists on the banks of the Clark Fork River just upstream from Missoula. A large area of the banks have been completely cleared of trees and brush. When my dad and I noticed it during our ill-fated trip to Garnet a few weeks ago, we assumed a resort or fancy subdivision was being planned.

Upon further research, I discovered that the Milltown Dam site on the Clark Fork River is yet another Superfund site related to Butte and Anaconda, and it sits just a few miles upriver from Missoula. In 1908 a huge flood carried millions of tons of mine waste down the river until it found a resting place behind the Milltown Dam. Little did anybody know this was an issue until the early 90s when groundwater in Milltown (a—um, mill town) was found to have arsenic in it! Today, Milltown is all but a ghost town, with many abandoned worker houses boarded up along the side of Highway 200. Creepier yet are the enormous buildings and storage yards of the old mill that lie empty.

No wonder I find Missoula’s tap water rather unpalatable, eh?

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May 21, 2011 · 10:09 AM

Bossypants, or, I’m Totally Takei for Tina Fey

Tina Fey is one of my many female heroes. Back in the day, I thoroughly enjoyed her on Saturday Night Live’s Weekend Update. When I eventually learned she was also the head writer of the show, I was full-on smitten. An intelligent, dry-witty woman comedy writer who was finding real success in a male-dominated media landscape—what’s not to like about that?

Later, of course, came Sarah Palin. And 30 Rock, which I discovered less than a year ago. Now, everybody loves Tina Fey. But unlike all the other bandwagons I’ve jumped from when they got too crowded, I’m still totally Takei for Tina Fey.

Recently, Fey’s memoir Bossypants was released. I’ve not had a chance to read it yet—have you, dear reader? Tell me what you thought! Now that I have a Missoula Public Library card, do I need to rush out in a holding frenzy to get it? What I do know of the book is from a review I read by another great female comic I adore, Janeane Garofolo.

Strange thing I noticed though: as with this online article, there’s a phenomenon that happens when a famous person discusses pretty basic  concepts in a memoir. That is to say, pretty much all theater students are taught the rules of improv (discussed in the above article). But when Tina Fey writes about it, suddenly it’s important gospel that can be applied to life in oh-so-many oblique ways. (Incidentally, regarding that article, one important difference between theater and the business world is that most coworkers don’t have trust built between them as actors need to, making it nigh impossible to always say Yes.)

Truth be told, I probably won’t get around to reading Bossypants this summer. When I’m not at my internship, I’ll likely be hiking or biking, or exploring other parts of Montana. So if you’ve read the book, I want to hear from you! Leave a comment and tell me about what I’m missing, what’s great about it, what made you think about Tina Fey differently…

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May 14, 2011 · 7:59 PM

A Visit to Cicely, Alaska

Northern Exposure, an adventurous, charming, intelligent, amazing television series fully captured my heart, brain, and soul way back in 1994. Three books I’ve never considered getting rid of are the NX trifecta that was released while the show was on the air:

  
Not only did I buy The Northern Exposure Cookbook, a wasteland for vegetarians like myself, but I’ve kept it for several years now. The Northern Exposure Book has a handy episode guide, and the Chris-in-the-Morning book continues to inspire whenever I read a quote from KBHR’s philosophical, gentle, and smoking hot DJ.

My love for NX has persisted through hardship. When I first started watching the show, it came on at 10pm when my parents were going to bed. So I wouldn’t disturb them, my dad would turn the volume down so low on the television that even I had a hard time hearing the dialogue from six feet away. But still I watched. Then in August 1996, when my dad and I were heading home from Yellowstone, I convinced him to find the illustrious Roslyn, Washington, where the series was filmed. However, as we drove around town it didn’t occur to him that I might want to get out and stay a while. It was really hard for me to ask favors of him back then, so I never got any quality time with the town of my dreams.

After fifteen long years, I recently rectified that situation on my way to Missoula, Montana. Part of my decision to make the drive in two days was that I could do side trips…and it wasn’t long before I was dead-set on visiting Roslyn again. It would be a chance to finally bury one of my big regrets.

When I arrived, I brought Atticus out for a bathroom break, and we passed by Cafe Cicely. The two women inside came out to meet Atticus and give him treats. One of them runs the local animal rescue, and graciously gave us a bowl of water which we could continue to use on our journey. After I enjoyed an inexpensive mango sorbet ice cream, Atticus went back in the car and I headed over to Cicely’s Gift Shop, inside Dr. Joel Fleischman’s office.

Like the women across the street, the man tending Cicely’s Gift Shop was extremely friendly and had lots of time to chat. As the entire gift shop is a shrine to NX (“Dr. Joel Fleischman” is still painted in the window, and the structure has not changed since Universal filmed the show), he told me tales of how far people had come to see Roslyn (Israel was the furthest as of five days ago). He had moved to town from the east coast after becoming a fan of the show.

After seizing the opportunity to support the local economy with the purchase of a KBHR pint glass, NX long-sleeved T-shirt, and a legitimate copy of the “More Music from Northern Exposure” CD, I walked around town and shot some photos of buildings used in the show, and some that weren’t. The man at Cicely’s Gift Shop said that town opinion was divided about which town history to embrace: Roslyn’s past as a mining town, or its rebirth as the set of NX. There are scads of mining towns in this region, but it seems the people embracing the NX connection have it figured out, and are keeping their businesses afloat because of it.

See more photos from my visit here.

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March 28, 2011 · 8:09 PM

Introducing Bikish!

Now that Bookish is pretty focused on looking at the world through book-colored glasses, I’ve missed writing about bikes. That’s why I created Bikish as a companion piece to this blog!

Many Bookish readers are avid cyclists as well. Head over there and join the conversation!

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March 28, 2011 · 5:56 PM

Why and How I Gave Up My Books

This morning my technology class was discussing libraries and the hot topic (in publishing, anyway) of ebook lending, specifically in relation to the HarperCollins fiasco. Our professor asked the class if anyone used libraries a lot. When I raised my hand, I was put on the spot, and got to tell the story of how I made it a goal to get rid of most of my books, and strengthened my already staunch support of libraries in the process.

When I was in high school and college, I equated the size of one’s personal library to the amount of knowledge they had. Teachers and professors were extremely knowledgeable and wise, and their offices were often lined with books. Jocks at my high school on the other hand, often didn’t bring a backpack to school, their lives were so free of books—and my conversations with some of them suggested a distinct lack of knowledge. At some point while navigating high school, I decided to keep all books I had ever bought in case I ever needed to refer to them again. (“The medicinal use of nettle tea? A Midwife’s Tale talks about that! Let me grab it and look it up!”) The only book I valued so little to part ways with it before about 2007 was Alexis de Toqueville’s Democracy in America. Books had an almost mystical value, and getting rid of them was like throwing away knowledge.

After many years of acquisition, in about 2007 I had a dismal epiphany: I would never be able to move anywhere–I had too many books! Graduate school? Forget about it! Getting out of The Ghettohaus [the name of my grand estate], with its abysmally poor insulation, collapsing roof, sinking back end, lack of a foundation, mouse problems, etc.? It would be impossible to move, simply because of the sheer amount of books I owned! A friend suggested I toy with the idea of trying to sell some books to Powell’s (above), and soon I set along a new path.

Meanwhile, a love of libraries was being cultivated in my heart. As I worked as a researcher for several years, I was accessing library materials constantly. My usage ranged from checking out library books to find the exact translation of a quote, browsing titles to search for reference photos, to accessing online databases like the Oxford English Dictionary from off-site. Eventually I started checking out CDs to expand my musical horizons, and DVDs to get up to speed on the world’s cinematic classics. Later yet, when I was interested in a book but did not know if I wanted to buy it, I would put it on hold at the library in order to preview before purchasing, to ensure my limited dollars would be spent most effectively.

As I wanted at least the option of moving at some point, I decided to stop acquiring more books by instead checking them out of the library. Once I had my next step defined in my head (graduate school in Vancouver BC), serious efforts were made to sell boxes of books to Powell’s (with remainders being donated to Ledding Library for their annual book sale). Soon I discovered and started pondering minimalism literature, and expanded the downsizing to the rest of my belongings as well.

It was really tough giving up books in the beginning, as physical books are more valuable than just the information contained therein. They’re beautiful to look at and touch. Perhaps your copy is signed by the author or was given to you by a dead relative. The frayed edges of a paperback may jog special memories. Becoming Minimalist covered the sentimental issues of giving up books last August, and Rowdy Kittens covered purging of sentimental items (not just books) recently as well.

I did it in baby steps. Slowly.  It seems the more I’ve purged, the easier it has gotten. But I haven’t given up all my books yet. To date, I have sold or donated about 75% of what I once had, and hope to continue the trend when I return to Portland. The less stuff I have, the less there is to pack if I need to move, the less there is to clean, the less there is to worry about. One of my favorite things about getting books out of the library is that they’re often more beautiful than the copy I would have purchased for myself—I don’t have to store the thing and ruin it with dust, yet I can access it almost anytime I want!

As for the ebook lending fiasco, HarperCollins has nothing to fear from me. I don’t buy ebooks, I don’t borrow ebooks–the only time I have acquired an ebook at all was when it was the only available option, and free. But I do give both money and used books (to be sold for revenue) to my local library, and will continue to do so for years to come. Power to the libraries!

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March 17, 2011 · 11:16 AM

Social Change Through Literature: The Jungle and Uncle Tom’s Cabin

Apparently I’m an idealist. Or a perfectionist. Or maybe they’re the same thing, applied differently.

What that means is that for a very long time, I’ve thought it important to do my part to work toward what I see as a better future. The very first book that inspired and led to a big impact in my daily habits was Upton Sinclair’s 1906 novel The Jungle. Here’s one of the many passages that spurred the United States to pass the Pure Food and Drug Act (among other legislation) not long after the book was released:

“The meat would be shoveled into carts, and the man who did the shoveling would not trouble to lift out a rat even when he saw one—there were things that went into the sausage in comparison with which a poisoned rat was a tidbit. There was no place for the men to wash their hands before they ate their dinner, and so they made a practice of washing them in the water that was to be ladled into the sausage. There were the butt-ends of smoked meat, and the scraps of corned beef, and all the odds and ends of the waste of the plants, that would be dumped into old barrels in the cellar and left there. Under the system of rigid economy which the packers enforced, there were some jobs that it only paid to do once in a long time, and among these was the cleaning out of the waste barrels. Every spring they did it; and in the barrels would be dirt and rust and old nails and stale water—and cartload after cartload of it would be taken up and dumped into the hoppers with fresh meat, and sent out to the public’s breakfast.”

The book didn’t exactly make me vegetarian. But it did keep me there, with its descriptions of the havoc the meat packing industry was creating for the poor Rudkus family, recent immigrants from Lithuania just trying to survive in a new country. Whether it was an anonymous worker falling in a vat and made into lard, or poor Marija, cutting her hand and almost losing it from infection, the novel was fantastic and tawdry. It was only coincidence that I decided to read this book shortly after deciding to try vegetarianism, but it cemented in my mind that I had absolutely done the right thing.

Another book that was instrumental as an agent of social change was Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 1852 novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which I just finished writing a big paper about. At the time Stowe was writing the story, she lived in Cincinnati—right across the Ohio River from Kentucky, a major slave state. Escaped slaves using the Underground Railroad were the source of much drama in Cincinnati. When the Fugitive Slave Act was passed in 1850, making it a crime for anyone to assist an escaped slave, Stowe officially solidified her alliance with the abolitionist movement.

She decided to combine the political arguments of the abolitionists with dramatic and sentimental fiction. Stowe depicted her African American characters as having distinct voices and feelings, rousing empathy in the reader that they may not have had before, and influencing their stance on slavery. Uncle Tom’s Cabin had an immense impact in the US and around the world. Legend suggests that the book was the single cause of the US Civil War—although that makes a good story, it’s perhaps a bit simplistic.

The point is though, that stories about sympathetic fictional characters set against a socio-political backdrop is a really effective method of changing people’s minds about the world around them.

Do you have any favorite novels of social change? What books could you envision having this sort of success in changing the world today?

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March 9, 2011 · 7:18 PM

BookishHeather.com Open for Business!

Were you looking for BookishHeather.com? Perhaps you were trying to find Heathers who are bookish? Well, here I am!

Inspired by the Huffington Post’s hilarious attempt to get to the top of Google (the first version was way better than the current one), I thought I’d both announce that my BookishHeather.com domain is finally set up.

Now back to writing papers…

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March 4, 2011 · 11:30 AM

Bookish Updates

• It’s official! This summer I’ll be interning with the publications department of the Adventure Cycling Association in Missoula, Montana. It looks like I’ll primarily be helping the magazine develop its online presence, but will likely have my fingers in plenty of other projects too. As everyone in my program knows how into bikes I am, I don’t think this came as a surprise to anybody.

• Want to read my piece in the next issue of “Taking the Lane,” Elly Blue’s zine? Printing is paid for in advance via Kickstarter, so go to the project’s website to chip in. Your copy will be sent to you when they’re all printed in April!

• Over the next week, I’ll be writing a long paper about the publication history of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. During spring break, I biked up to UBC Special Collections and viewed some early editions of the book (from 1897 and 1900), which were polar opposites in terms of treatment of the text. While excited about the topic, I’m a little overwhelmed, and working on my blog is arguably my method of procrastination du jour.

• Armed with fearlessness, I’ve been doing a bit of customization with Bookish. This is directly linked to my MPub technology project—over the next several weeks, my group will be doing some testing on a web-based system for doing magazine submissions, which was completely built in WordPress.

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March 4, 2011 · 8:52 AM

CanCon Review: The Red Tree by Shaun Tan

CanCon is the idea in Canada that a certain percentage of television/radio content needs to be Canadian in nature: either created by Canadian artists or about Canadian topics. Providing a few CanCon posts while I’m here seems only natural.

One message has been pounded into my head, daily, in my MPub classes: Canadians produce a lot of great artistic and cultural work. The irony is, now that I’m here and the deadlines are flying, I don’t get much of a chance to take it in.

An exception was last semester when we had a children’s book editor visit our editing class. She brought a bag full of children’s books to use on an exercise, and I was introduced to The Red Tree by Shaun Tan.

As soon as I laid eyes on the cover, I was sucked in and spent the next several minutes absorbing the book cover to cover. It’s surprisingly marketed as a children’s book, but it seemed to me to cut across boundaries of age. Both the art and typography are used in complex ways to tell the inner story of a little girl struggling with depression. She finds herself navigating a world that doesn’t make sense to her, feeling like she can’t communicate. (Fret not though, there is hope at the end!)

This is a fine example of Canadian literature that we rarely get exposed to in the US. But you don’t have to take my word for it!

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February 3, 2011 · 7:39 PM

Recent Writings

Over the past few weeks I’ve been doing some writing.

Recently I finished a piece for Taking the Lane, a zine put together by my friend Elly Blue. It’ll appear in the third issue, which should be released later this spring. The piece shares the story of some pretty amazing women cyclists in the 1800s. Elly seems pretty excited about it, and that makes me pretty excited too. After all—bikes, history, and feminism are three of my favorite subjects. On a related note, it’s looking like I might be interning at a bike magazine this summer, fingers crossed.

Also, one of my classes this semester requires us to post all our presentations and papers online. Last night, after a week of scrambling and fretting, I posted a paper about what Google’s “information monopoly” could mean for ebooks and publishers. It’s not a very good paper, but it does have a LOLcats if you make it to the end, and it can help cure insomnia.

We’ll get back to our regularly scheduled format one of these days…

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