Behind the Stories
Going to the ends of the Earth
By Bruce ReichertAugust 18, 2008
Remember the movie “Journey to the Center of the
Earth”? I thought about it the other day, when
cameraman Al Moreno and I were 3,000 feet underground.
We were touring the Galena Mine in the
fabled Silver Valley, outside Coeur d’ Alene, for an OUTDOOR IDAHO show called
“Mining Idaho.”
It sure was a lot hotter and more humid than that 1959 movie said it would be! But the 250 workers didn’t seem to mind. They were just happy to be making good money again, underground.
Both Al and I were impressed with the sights and sounds, and the size of the tunnels underground. Large vehicles operated with ease, and there was enough air pumped into the mine to make breathing easy, even with the diesel-operated machines.
And the people we met underground were hard-working
and eager to tell their story. They were definitely proud to be
miners.
Back in the 1980’s, when the price of
silver dropped, and most of the mines closed, the Environmental Protection
Agency declared the Silver Valley a giant SuperFund site.
It was a designation that stung. But,
as retired state geologist Earl Bennett opined, “Superfund was yesterday’s
story.”
Earl was our tour guide. You may
remember him from our 2005 program, “Silver Valley Rising,” where he walked us
through “the sins of the fathers.” Today, he’s confident that those sins will
not recur. For one thing, the Bunker Hill smelter, which poured lead and other
toxins into the air, is gone. And
now there are stricter regulations in place. “This is not your father’s mining
industry. They want to be good neighbors.”
Many of the residents of Boise, Idaho, are hoping
that’s the case, because mining activity near Atlanta could impact the Boise
River, says Idaho Conservation League spokesman John Robison. “There may be
gold up in the mountains in Atlanta, but the real treasure is clean drinking
water, and it’s certainly more precious than gold.”
With the price of metals now at
historic levels, “Mining Idaho” will explore the changing face of mining in the
West.
It’s a topic that may sound pretty boring. But tune in October 30th, because we’re also going to feature a gold prospector, who will tell you exactly where the gold is!
A Tribute to Bill Studebaker
By Bruce ReichertJuly 7, 2008
The East fork of the South fork of the Salmon River, near Yellow Pine, claimed a good man, and a good friend of Idaho Public Television and Outdoor Idaho.
Bill Studebaker died over the 4th of July holiday, doing something he truly loved to do, something most of us would never do: kayaking arguably the most dangerous river in Idaho.
Bill was made for television. Warm, intelligent, photogenic, he was the guy we went to when we needed excitement or analysis and reflection. In fact, Bill was probably in more Outdoor Idaho shows than anyone else!
He was around the campfire for our 25th Anniversary show. He was around the campfire for our 20th Anniversary show. (He drove my ATV up to Hard Butte Lake for that shoot, and had to go over some rough terrain. Said it scared him more than the river.)
He read a poem for our "City Made of Stone" program, in 1994, at the City of Rocks.
He jumped into the rapids where William Clark turned back, on the Salmon River, for our "Lewis & Clark in Idaho" program, just because we needed someone to look like he'd been thrown from a dugout canoe.
He was the heart and soul of "Extremely Idaho," our February '08 program, as he and his friend Mike Copeland performed a wild kayak ride down an icy waterfall at Thousand Springs. Not once, but twice, for the camera.
And for a show yet to air, Bill kayaked down a snowy mountain in the Sawtooths. A group of volunteers got to see that segment last month, for our Volunteer Appreciation Day. They found it delightful and crazy.
That was Spill. Delightful and crazy. Warm and generous. And really smart.
But my favorite segment with Bill Studebaker is featured in our "River of No Return" show, when he 
talked about the plight of the salmon and what it means to everyday Idahoans.
It combined so much of what, to me, was special about Bill. A man who could make poetry work for him, as he talked about the lifecycle of the salmon, dying in the very water that gave it life, so that the logger and the truck driver could understand what was being taken from them in the name of progress.
Come to think of it, Bill could have just as easily been talking about himself.
We'll miss you, Bill.