A contribution to the debate over professional forestry's environmental impact by someone who believes that people take better care of trees than nature does. The US Forestry Service—and professional forestry in general- -has come under heavy fire in recent years for, among other sins, the irresponsible destruction of trees. Jordan, who has worked for 40 years in the forest products industry, argues that environmentalists and government regulations are standing in the way of healthy, sustainable forests. He takes as a hopeful sign President Clinton's 1993 Forestry Conference, which attempted to find a common ground between conflicting environmental and economic demands. Some kind of resolution is necessary, Jordan argues, if the forest-products industry is to continue to fulfill the American Dream by supplying cheap housing and consumer goods. In 1993, Jordan asserts, 129,000 people were busy writing 66,000 pages of federal regulations, many of which were contradictory. Worse still, in his view, Congress is designating countless acres as national wilderness or protected parkland. Nature rules in these areas, states Jordan, causing ``catastrophic `clearcuts' through the devastating ravages of wildfires, hurricanes, insects, disease and old age,'' while in the hands of private industry these same areas would have watershed protection, erosion control, care of wildlife and plant habitat, recreational opportunity, and, most important, stewardship of a valuable renewable raw material. He calls for a national campaign on the part of the forest-products industry to spread the word about its successes, combat its negative public image, and cultivate grassroots support. Jordan is an articulate and fervent advocate of sustainable forestry, and his perspective on the issues is refreshingly different, but he fails to adequately address such major environmental concerns as the loss of genetic diversity among forest trees. A valid comment, but far from the final word on the fate of our forests. (Photos, not seen)
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").
Noted jazz and pop record producer Thiele offers a chatty autobiography. Aided by record-business colleague Golden, Thiele traces his career from his start as a ``pubescent, novice jazz record producer'' in the 1940s through the '50s, when he headed Coral, Dot, and Roulette Records, and the '60s, when he worked for ABC and ran the famous Impulse! jazz label. At Coral, Thiele championed the work of ``hillbilly'' singer Buddy Holly, although the only sessions he produced with Holly were marred by saccharine strings. The producer specialized in more mainstream popsters like the irrepressibly perky Teresa Brewer (who later became his fourth wife) and the bubble-machine muzak-meister Lawrence Welk. At Dot, Thiele was instrumental in recording Jack Kerouac's famous beat- generation ramblings to jazz accompaniment (recordings that Dot's president found ``pornographic''), while also overseeing a steady stream of pop hits. He then moved to the Mafia-controlled Roulette label, where he observed the ``silk-suited, pinky-ringed'' entourage who frequented the label's offices. Incredibly, however, Thiele remembers the famously hard-nosed Morris Levy, who ran the label and was eventually convicted of extortion, as ``one of the kindest, most warm-hearted, and classiest music men I have ever known.'' At ABC/Impulse!, Thiele oversaw the classic recordings of John Coltrane, although he is the first to admit that Coltrane essentially produced his own sessions. Like many producers of the day, Thiele participated in the ownership of publishing rights to some of the songs he recorded; he makes no apology for this practice, which he calls ``entirely appropriate and without any ethical conflicts.'' A pleasant, if not exactly riveting, memoir that will be of most interest to those with a thirst for cocktail-hour stories of the record biz. (25 halftones, not seen)