About

September 18th, 2019

Q & A with Writer and Journalist Mark Bowden 

Mark Bowden is an award winning and best-selling author and correspondent with over 40 years of professional experience. His notable literary works include “Black Hawk Down” and “Killing Pablo,” both of which went on to be made into motion pictures. 

Bowden holds numerous awards and finalist placements for his non-fiction publications and journalistic work. Among winning two “Overseas Press Club” awards for his aforementioned titles, he also is credited with the Science Writing Award from The American Association of the Advancement of Science and the Feature Writing Award by the Sunday Magazine Editors Association for his two of his published articles. 

Bowden is a graduate of Loyola University, where he was the editor of the school paper “The Greyhound”. His professional career officially began after graduation at the Baltimore News-American. After six years, Bowden took an opportunity at The Philadelphia Inquirer, where he would spend the next 24 years. He is currently writing for The Atlantic magazine and working with director\producer Ridley Scott on Hollywood screenwriting projects. 

“You want to know the number one rule?” he said to me as we sat sipping coffee in the shade of his back deck. He smiled and said intently, “The number one rule in journalism is that you never know until you ask, so be professionally curious.”

DF: All right, let’s start this thing off. I have a little list of questions here to keep us on topic. 

MB: Ah, a list is a good thing to have. But remember that interviews are an organic process, they’re a conversation.

DF: Right. We’re being taught that now in school. It’s important to go with the flow of the questions. Could you talk a little more about that?

MB: Yes, it can be foolish to let your main objective guide you sometimes. One of my favorite interviewers, Terry Gross on NPR, gets way off topic. She pursues anything that she deems interesting about the person she’s interviewing. And of course, she’s a good listener.

DF: Interesting. I’d like to start from the beginning. Did you always know you wanted to write? 

MB: Well I loved to read as a kid. I still do, so writing always appealed to me. 

DF: I read that you found inspiration in the book “The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test.” What’s the story there?

MB: (Laughing) I thought regular journalistic writing was kind of boring. The classic inverted pyramid for boiler plate articles was too plain. Tom Wolfe wrote this wild ass story about going to live with the hippies in California and I saw that writing could be about creativity and doing it however you wanted to do it. 

DF: That being said, when it comes to regular news journalism, what are your thoughts about the opinions of the writers and reporters being included in the work?

MB: Ah, terrible! In real reporting we restrain our opinions. We’re fair to everyone. You gotta have an open mind. You’re talking about advocacy journalism. The worlds full of it now. It has its place, but it\s really just persuasive writing. 

DF: It seems like that’s a lot of what you see on TV. You feel pretty strongly about that?

MB: Real journalism takes time and work, and sublimating your own opinion. If you want to change minds, educate, don’t persuade. Or show, don’t tell. Im a living example of how it can work in your favor. Let’s say you were to just do some research online and write an article based off that. That’s bullshit. The essence of it really, is to tell something new. That requires going places and talking to people. 

DF: Would you say it’s an endless pursuit? Every situation is different. There’s so many people and perspectives. 

MB: It is, Dylan. Im trying to understand the world. In a way you’re explaining what seems unexplainable at first. Why would this person do this? What possibly could have transpired? But when you look into it closer, and you ask questions, you begin to say, “Oh now it’s starting to make sense.” You’re in a way explaining the unexplainable. I really enjoy that process, and it’s what the readers seem to like too. It’s about understanding the world.”

DF: It seems like you really like it, talking to people. It’s kind of nerve racking though, isn’t it?

MB: (Laughing) I’ll tell ya, people are endlessly interesting. Once you get them talking, and it can be quite easy to get them talking, you’d be amazed at what they tell you. How often does someone come up to you and say, “Hello, could you tell me about yourself? I’m just here to listen.” There’s been so many times when people would ask me “How did you figure that out!?” and I would just laugh and say “Well I asked so and so and they just told me!” Thats how you got here, now. Luckily I love to talk, especially about writing and journalism. 

DF: I see that you worked at the Baltimore News-American right out of college. How did you make the big jump to The Philadelphia Inquirer?

MB: Well I got really lucky. There was this guy, Jean Roberts, who was scouting talent all over the country. He got in contact with me and gave me something to think about. 

DF: Sounds like a huge opportunity. Was it an easy decision?

MB: Well, I realized the type of opportunity that it was, but it was going to be a big change. I had so many connections in Baltimore that made my job as a reporter a little easier, different people whom I had good relationships with, who would leak me information. I knew moving to Philadelphia I would have to start all over. That being said, I took the chance and moved the family. Taking chances made me, and I dealt with the uncertainty in my youth. Uncertainty is the real bugaboo of any writer. 

DF: I know you don’t work directly for The Inquirer anymore. I’ve read you still write for The Atlantic though. Any other big projects now-a-days? 

MB: Oh yeah, a bunch of things. I write for the Atlantic, Airmail and occasionally Vanity Fair. Im also working closing with Ridley Scott, the DP of Black Hawk Down. We’re trying to sell

this idea to Hollywood about animal conservation in Africa, something I’m pretty excited about. The funny thing about working with Hollywood is that you can’t give them what they want, because they don’t know what they want. Basically, you gotta write a story you like and hope they’ll buy it, (laughs).

DF: To wrap things up, what do you think of the future of journalism and print media? 

MB: Dylan, I have an abiding faith that journalism is so important that it will continue, though the old business models have broken down. There’s no longer a ladder to climb. Now creativity wins. People who are willing to use the internet to their advantage and take use of all multimedia platforms will rise to the top. As far as the current administration’s effect, its’ been disastrous and damaging to society as a whole. To say that the New York Times is “fake news” is unbelievably irresponsible.  People don’t know who they can trust anymore. When it comes to print media, it’s dead. I just hope it does not truly die until after I’m gone because I love reading the paper. 

November 7th, 2019

Mercury, The Ese’Eja, and Us

“The Journey from Puerto Maldonado to the Esa Eja’ settlement of Infierno is a long and loud 12 hours up the Sonene River” said National Geographic explorer Jon Cox. 

     He was traveling by peki peki boat. A thin, wooden boat with an unpredictable and wailing engine harnessed to the back. Cox was going to live with the Ese Eja’, a native amazonian tribe who have lived on the Sonene river for the extent of their verbal history. Jons mission: to 

document their traditions and learn about the struggles facing these people with the encroachment of the modern world.

     “We went fishing in a landlocked pond,” Said Cox. “But when it came time to collect water to drink, we had to walk two kilometers one way to gather water from a spring, even though the village lies on the river. The elders explained that the river and its fish are full of mercury from the artisanal gold mines up stream.”

     The pollution of the Ese Eja’s water is not an isolated issue, large populations of people worldwide are effected by mercury poisoning. 

Mercury is a silver colored heavy metal element that is liquid at room temperature. It is found in the earths crust and is released both naturally and by human activity (anthropogenically). 

The World Health Organization explains that mercury that is released into the 

environment is turned into methyl mercury by bacteria and Archaea. This metal then bioaccumulates in the muscle tissue’s of fish and shellfish and and continues to biomagnify (concentrate) in larger predators, including humans. 

     Studies done by The International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health show the effects of artisanal small scale gold mining on three rivers in the Madre de Dios river where the Ese’Eja call home (the Sonene, Tambopata, and Malinowski). Concentrations of mercury and methyl mercury were observed in various fish. The Sonene river had the lowest concentration of the three, averaging .19 milligrams with a possible variation of .27 milligrams of either form of mercury per kilogram of fish.

       The United States Environmental Protection Agency states that a safe intake of mercury is measured at 0.1 microgram per kilogram of body weight per day. To simplify, a 160 pound person then would be able to safely consume 7.2 micrograms of mercury daily. Eating one pound of contaminated fish with a concentration of .30 mg per kg would result in the intake of .13 mg of mercury, resulting in almost 20x the safe daily intake. 

The EPA states that in the United States, estimations show that 75,000 new borns yearly may have an increased risk of learning disabilities and retardation due to in utero exposure to methyl mercury. Extreme cases can result in Minamata's disease with symptoms including: Ataxia, weakness, mental retardation, blindness, deafness, physical mutation (if prenatal), coma, and death. 

     The EPA also states that between 5000 and 8000 metric tones of mercury are emitted globally each year. Anthropogenic sources add significantly to the global mercury pool with small scale gold mining being the largest contributor (37 percent of total anthropogenic release.)

       Cox has created a traveling museum exhibit to showcase and bring awareness to the communities struggles. The Ese Eja’ have become involved with the Peruvian government and are active in the fight to stop the small scale gold mining and restore their ancestral grounds.

      “Our children have become weakened in the recent years.” said Jon Cox, quoting Mateo 

Viaeja, an Ese Eja’ elder. Viaeja ended with the simple statement, “No water, no forest, no life, no Ese Eja’.”

November 24th, 2019                       

Elizabeth Robertson Profile                                                   

   An image of a heavily flooded suburban street illuminated under the dim yellow glow of outdated street lights takes up a quarter of a large sheet of loose shiny paper. Printed underneath was another image of a transgender man applying generous amounts of makeup off the reflection of a small antique mirror.  Adjacent was a photo of a police investigator standing over the legs of a dead man who lay in a door way, half inside, half out. Next to these photos is the name “ELIZABETH ROBERTSON” leading a small text description. There is a stack of these pages, laying quiet on a small round table on the far end of The Philadelphia Inquirers headquarters.

     “Those are the 2019 ‘A Year in Photos’ prints,” Robertson says while programming her camera, flicking the dirty blond bangs from her face. “ The Inquirer prints the favorite photos of the year into a separate magazine.”

     At 53 years old, She bobs and weaves through office without a thought of shyness, exchanging smiles and greetings, seeming to know everyone on a personal level. Her social presence would compliment her later bit of advice that “ This job is people skills really. No seriously, maybe even more than the photography. It’s people skills.”

       Robertson has been a photojournalist for The Philadelphia Inquirer for over 30 years, covering an open variety of subjects. Thousands of publications constitute her résumé. If you have ever peered inside an edition of the The Inquirer, you have most likely seen her work. 

    Telling stories, laughing, occasionally swearing and alternating rapidly between gas and break, Robertson is on the way to her next assignment. Armed with her husbands “over sized refrigerator truck” and the confidence of a 30 year veteran, she’s ready to shoot. 

       “I cover everything” she says. “Tonight it’s sports, tomorrow it could be a concert, a protest, a shooting, anything. Im all over the place. Thats why I like to drive fast.”

     A faded picture of the family dog was taped to the center unit. The car was clean, but the backseat was piled with gear. The oversized and new Canon 1-DX mark II DSLR camera stood out. Housed in a weather resistant casing and capable of shooting 16 photos per second, this was no amateur piece of equipment.  Around it lay an older model 60 D camera with a cracked screen and a variety of lenses large and small, monopods that have seen better days, and of course, extra jackets. 

     Robertson has wanted to be a photographer as long as she can remember. 

     “It started in the sixth grade on a field trip.” says Robertson. “I had brought this cool camera that printed these tiny little film negatives and that was it. I was hooked. I didn’t care much for school. I always just wanted to make pictures. My principle took notice of me and gave me

 access to the dark room. Soon he printed this beautiful display of my photos that anyone coming in and out of the school would see. It was really cool.”  Robertson never did finished high school, though. She lost interest and cared only to make photos. She dropped out and acquired her G.E.D. instead. 

    She could be found at any local news worthy events. Political and social gatherings, accidents, and anything else that would generate photos to sell to the paper. It wasn’t long before the Gloucester County Times, a paper with a daily reader base of around 30,000, took notice of her. Soon her grandmother would be driving her to her first real job as a photojournalist. Around 18 months later, just shy of her 17th birthday, The Philadelphia Inquirer brought her onto the team. She’s been with the paper ever since. 

      Perched now, with all her weight on one knee, Robertson’s as still as a hunter stalking prey. Her left arm steadies the large 300mm 2.8 lens that protrudes like a small telescope out from her face. The lens carries with it 100 stories, told through the scratches that scatter across its shell like stars in the night.

        Her fingers and focus are unaffected by biting late November New Jersey cold. She swivels to keep on the Williamstown quarterback as he draws his right arm back to launch the ball into the possibilities of the Friday night lights. 

      Smack! clickclickclickclick! She’s fires a barrage as an enemy Lenape helmet collides with his, sending him crumpling down stiffly to the frozen earth. Her camera operation is secondnature, her focus is used to think strategically. 

     “Look” she says, reveling the LCD screen of her camera and rotating through the shots. Each one perfectly exposed. The frame is just wide enough to capture everything but still tight enough to keep the photo personal. A crisp focus highlights the hopeful player as the blur of a white uniform flanking for the sack is frozen in time.

     Robertson is involved in her local community of Hurffville, a section of Washington township in Gloucester county, New Jersey. Her latest hometown victory was helping in the search to retrieve Violet, a runaway Bassett hound who wandered the cold New Jersey streets for two weeks before being found. Also on her recent list of good deeds was making room for a local journalism student to shadow her and see the inner workings of the photojournalism industry. 

      Robertson has always wanted to work at The Philadelphia Inquirer, and she’s happy with the job. She acknowledges the many changes and downsizing that has happened over the years to the journalism industry, but says she remains un-bitter and enjoys her work still. “I think there’s a real power in working for the press, and I want to use that power to help people.” says Robertson. “I don’t care to ever be the best or to promote myself. To me, it’s important to be a good photographer, but a better person.” 

October 1st, 2019

Marple Township vs. Carlino Developers

Concerned Marple locals gathered to oppose Carlino developers over plans to develop the largest greenspace left in Marple township into residential and commercial properties on September 26th. The meeting between the two parties took place at the Marple township building in front of the planning committee.

 The planning committee and the locals were disappointed that the Carlino representatives spoke mainly about tree management. The meeting was expected to be about building plans.

 “They pulled a bait and switch on us,” said Charles Protesto, president of local environmental group Save Marple Green Space. “This meeting was supposed to be about the development plans, but instead they send this guy to talk about the trees on the property.”

Carlino developers are purchasing the two-hundred and eighteen acre plot from the Arch dioces. The property is located on Sproul road.

  “We plan to develop 45 acres of young forest,” said Carlino hired arborist Jon Hosback. “We can see from old satellite images that this forest is only about 60 years old. We also noticed that the canopy blocks sunlight from much of the forest floor and that deer are preventing new growth. It would benefit the forest greatly to thin out trees on this property. We would also be planting new trees.”

“Carlino is not to be trusted." replied Protesto. “I grew up in those woods, they’re at least three hundred years old. Only a small portion of that forest is young.”

Numerous other locals made claims and comments that the words of the arborist were untrue, inaccurate or exaggerated. 

“Regardless if that forest has some flaws, it’s still a functioning ecosystem” said Rick Ray, local gardener. “We’ve seen time and time again that thinning and allowing more light into the forest promotes the spreading of invasive species. Your claiming to plan to plant new trees, but there’s a huge amount of aftercare required to see that those trees live. And what about the issue with runoff?” Ray said. 

 A member of the planning committee remarked that the meeting was supposed to be about development plans. Carlino representatives said they were planning to build 141 homes, but had no direct answer to this “bait and switch” claim. Carlino himself was absent from the meeting. 

 “They’re trying to tire us out. Carlino pulled a stunt like this last time we were supposed to have a meeting too” said Protesto directly to the planning committee. “Don’t think about the money, think about the people and animals and environment. I know you guys won’t give into Carlino, I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Local man Fred Steiner said that the township would be wise to hire their own arborist to validate claims made by Hosback. Steiner also said that this plot of land serves as a watershed protector and if removed will cause flooding to homes down the hill from it. 

An issue about the increasing traffic on sproul road was brought up by a two local women who spoke at the meeting. As was the fear of flooding caused by deforestation by others. 

“They claim they want to preserve the forest. We know that’s not true. We’ve seen their proposed development plans. They want to put an old folks home on one side, a shopping center on the other, and townhomes in the back.” Said Protesto after the meeting. The fight for this plot of land will continue at the next township meeting. The date is as of yet undecided. 

December 8th, 2019

The Lighthouse Review

     The twisted mind of Robert Eggers takes us from our seats and places us coldly on a lonely rock in a soulless ocean off the New England coast. Set in the late 1890’s, this film is shadowed by the struggle of the time, or perhaps all time, to find warmth and security in an unforgiving and fickle world. As the late Roger Ebert once said in his review of Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining”, “Who is our reliable observer?” That is a fine question indeed. Is it the seasoned and superstitious Thomas Wake? (William Dafoe) a seemingly rational, independent lifetime sea dweller who suffers intense but generally harmless manic fits. Or is it the younger, wide eyed Ephraim Winslow (Robert Patterson). Relatable perhaps, in his struggle to keep up with daily demands as he quickly becomes our spotty protagonist. Be careful who’s sanity you trust, or you may end up doubting your own. 

      Eggers made a reputation of himself with his 2015 horror film “The VVitch”. A production that causes a sense of hopelessness for the viewer as the souls and minds of the characters are tested against a mysterious darkness. Eggers seems to enjoy playing on the more hidden and desperate parts of the human condition. It seems that his films come from a place we all share, but which we rarely venture.

     Good pay is hard to come by in the late 19th century. Some men will put themselves on the edge of the world for a promised taste of financial security later on. So is the tale of our two lighthouse keepers serving their one month stay on the nameless island. To keep the lighthouse lit and turning may seem like a simple task. Under the command of a seemingly bipolar and sporadic Wake, Winslow quickly looses his grip in this new, sinister world. Oh, and don’t mind the seagulls!

     The Lighthouse seemed to follow a different set of laws than your average Hollywood production. The movie is shot on 35mm black and white film in a 1x1 square aspect ratio and inundated with well placed and repetitious sound effects. We’re taken out of our comfort zones quickly as try to wrap our head around this anomaly. The islands foghorn blares its baritone song right on cue as another strange, pattern plays on through the screen. Imagine a spiral staircase viewed from the top down, rolling gently into the darkness. If one were to line up the fibonacci sequence spiral on the screen, more times than not i’d bet you’d see a resemblance. The mesmerizing nature of this film only burns it deeper into our subconscious.

     Full of mystery, meaning, and hidden symbolism, The Lighthouse leaves us with a troubled mind and furrowed brow. Eggers strikes at the heart of the human condition and the love, hate, and greed that lies in mens hearts. It would be unwise to recommend this movie to the faint of heart. I would instead dare to challenge any lover of true art, to sit through this experience. It’s not something you can afford to miss.

Watch the trailer here

From Kuwait to Cambodia with international journalist Matthew Donohue

By Dylan Francis

A Parliament cigarette is plucked from its retro, white and blue pack. It’s placed between the wine-stained lips of a man as he looks off his balcony into the rainy Long Island night. A matching blue lighter catches the end and a white puff of smoke drifts out from under the balcony light into the dark. 

“You see a lot of bad shit as a journalist,” he said. “Shit you don’t forget.”

Matthew Donohue, 40, stands at 5 feet 8 inches with a buzz cut and a trim dirty blond beard. A tattoo sleeve detailed with Asian symbolism decorates his right forearm. His demeanor is positive. 

In contrast to his seemly domestic appearance, his spirit is wholly untamed, reminiscent of . travel writer Paul Theroux’s statement “One whose lifeline is nothing but his own nerve.”

Donohue is a photojournalist and writer who is published in newspapers and magazines in the United States, Middle East, India, and Southeast Asia. He’s worked for numerous news agencies and speaks most highly of his time with Bazaar magazine in Kuwait. 

He enjoys covering what he refers to as “the human condition.” He is currently an equine photographer, covering horse racing and portraiture. He also covers long-distance sailboat racing and creates fine art.

A part of his story is told by every piece of memorabilia that inhabits his home. 

In the closet hang two formal Lebanese robes made of cashmere and elaborately hand stitched. Old and new cameras are displayed throughout the house. A camel harness that Donohue rode across a Jordanian desert is retired on a wall facing the living room. A handmade atlatl, a tool to assist in spear throwing, rests inconspicuously near the television.

In the kitchen, a bottle of special edition Woodford Reserve bourbon sits on a granite countertop next to a basket of aging bananas. The label shows a photo of mounted jockeys leaving the starting gate during the 144th Kentucky Derby. The bottle seemed to be blemished, covered in some sort of patternless, black markings. 

“Look closer,” Donohue says.

A closer inspection reveals signatures of every racing jockey covering the bottle front to back.

“Its priceless,” he said. “I’ll never drink it. If you touch it, I’ll kill ya!”

Later, seated at the barstool of a small Italian restaurant, Donohue’s social navigation expertise is evident. 

“What’s your name, babe?” he asks the bartender.

Asking the names of people and becoming quickly friendly and familiar with them seems to be a theme for Donohue. His unmistakable honesty is apparent through his direct of eye contact and ability to listen. His Sicilian heritage is revealed as he investigates the menu.

“There’s no such thing as Italian egg rolls!” He says, smiling and pointing at the appetizer. “My mother’s a real Italian cook. She would be furious.”

Resting his weight on his forearms, leaning forward, he begins to speak of Asia, all the while the Brooklyn accent he inherited from his “motha” is becoming more obvious. 

“Cambodia was a real mentality shift,” Donohue says. “I thought I had seen it all. In 2009, I took a bus from Saigon, Vietnam to Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital. I couldn’t have been prepared for what I was going to see and feel there.”

Donohue is referring to the genocide that took place during the late 1970’s under the rule of the Communist Khmer Rouge regime led by Pol Pot. Genocide, famine, and death from treatable disease resulted in the deaths of up to 2 million people, a quarter of Cambodia’s population at that time.

“The hotel I had booked was across the street from S-21,” Donohue says.

S-21 is another name for the infamous prison, Tuol Sleng. The old school was converted into a torture facility after Pol Pot took power. Of the approximately 15 thousand falsely accused and interrogated there, only 12 survived. The rest were taken to the killing fields. There is still dried blood on the floor of S-21, which now serves as a museum and memorial. 

“I met an older man whose face was severely disfigured,” Donohue says. “He was one of the survivors. You don’t see many old people in ‘The City of Ghosts.”

Donohue hailed a tuk tuk motorcycle taxi to the killing fields. He recalls the weather being perfect on that December day. He stood atop a patch of ground which was unearthing the bones and clothes of those buried there.

“There were thousands of butterflies hovering just feet above the endless unmarked graves,” he says. “It changed me completely. The unforgivingness and pain contrasting the beauty of our lives. It was all here in this magnificent and haunting Cambodian landscape.”

Donohue was reminded of the quote by film director Terrence Malick: “What are these wars in the heart of nature?”

Donohue was born in Connecticut but spent most of his young life in Hockessin, Delaware and Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. When he was 3 years old, his uncle was killed in the Beirut barracks bombing in Lebanon. This would have a significant influence on Donohue’s later life and choice of profession. 

Donohue was always an artist. At 15, he picked up his first camera. Donohue would later describe photography as his “philosophy.” He attended The Pratt Institute in New York City, majoring in advertising and design. 

“I loved it,” Donohue says. “Pursuing a life in the arts is high stakes.” 

Upon graduation, Donohue went right into the graphic design world and began working for Saatchi & Saatchi, but only remained there for a short time. 

“I was making really good money for being 25,” Donohue says. “But, if I have to be honest, I was angry. I hated it. I wasn’t connected to life. The corporate world has this effect of making you not care about anything.” 

A friend mentioned to Donohue he should check out South Korea. He moved there and found work as a photographer and journalist. 

“I left it all,” Donohue says. “I moved to South Korea leaving behind everything. I remember thinking to myself, ‘I prefer to live here in squalor then go back to the corporate life.’ ” 

Donohue’s curiosity of the Middle East had existed since the passing of his uncle. He took an opportunity to teach photography in Kuwait and soon after began working for Bazaar magazine. He had a chance to explore Lebanon and visit the city of Beirut where his uncle had passed. 

“I visited the place where he was stationed and where it happened,” Donohue recalls. “I understood the city. I fell in love with Lebanon and its people. That was one of my first great learning experiences.”

While writing for Bazaar, Donohue worked as a columnist. He would write a variety of articles including profiles, travel pieces, and poetry. The position allowed him the opportunity to explore India, Lebanon, Vietnam, Cambodia and other countries.

Donohue was in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon on the Syrian border when the Syrian civil war began. He remembers seeing and hearing the missiles fly overhead, which gave him the idea to travel to Syria to document the emerging refugee crisis. 

While planning to sneak into Syria through a Lebanese connection, he found out he was to be a father. Learning this, he decided to remain home, prioritize safety and raise his daughter. His time of working overseas came to an end.

“A camera can act as a psychological shield,” Donohue says, adding that the pain and poverty he witnessed in the Middle East had affected him. He acknowledges that documenting the issues helped deal with the trauma of experiencing them, but still he felt a need for something new. 

After moving to Long Island to be close to his daughter Olivia, whom he calls “Cheeks,” he found himself a new creative obsession: horses and all things equine. Soon Donohue would be shooting the 144th Kentucky Derby. 

“A very special moment,” Donohue says about the experience. “The love of my daughter and these huge beautiful animals are my process of healing.”

He feels strongly about Frisians, a draft breed that carry a pure black coat and are well known for their warm personalities. He describes them simply as “elegance.”

One day, Donohue decided he was ready to begin writing again. He stopped at a local dock hoping to do a story about the oyster industry. He quickly found himself covering sail boat races instead. 

Fiddling with his favorite lens, [a Canon prime 85mm with a potential aperture of f 1.2,] he pulls out a magazine. On the cover is a beautiful photograph of a sail boat. The sails are full of wind and life as the sun sets in the background.

“This is one of mine,” he says. “I find myself being pulled back into the gray zone of balancing danger and work. Not long ago, I accompanied a crew on a race to Bermuda.”

The Newport Bermuda race is a 635-mile journey done entirely on wind power. It averages five to six days one way. There is no bathroom aboard. Sea sickness and cabin fever are very real threats.

Donohue recalls standing on the deck of the 40 foot yacht. The sails were still. They were in a high pressure zone. The wind was gone, and no one knew when it would return. 

“Essentially, we’re dead until we reach Bermuda,” Donohue says. “We took a loan out on our lives leaving the dock in Rhode Island.”

He said they took four-hour shifts but he wasn’t able to sleep.

“Nothing is crazier than being 300 miles out to sea on a sailboat with no wind,” Donohue says. “One of our guys started to lose it. ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he kept saying to me as I lay on my bunk. His eyes were distant. ‘You need to get your shit together,’ I told him. ‘Were almost there.’”

Donohue knew that if the man went topside with his panic, it could cause a domino effect among the other nine sailors.

“I’ve learned that when I’m truly terrified, it’s better to be completely silent,” Donohue says. “We were all scared. The stillness and vastness of that ocean is the most frightening thing I’ve ever experienced. My reconciliation came at night in the form of the Milky Way. Our great insignificance was as clear to me as the stars above. I lay on the deck alone with nothing to hold onto but the celestial wonder of our galaxy. I had understood our fragility in the world. The ocean helped me to accept vulnerability, but without letting it rule me.”

Today, Donohue is happy to be spending his days in the company of his daughter and the Frisian horses he’s grown to love. 

“If it wasn’t for my daughter and my camera I don’t know where I’d be,” Donohue says. “Being a father really tuned me in with life and death. I look back and realize that the longer I live the more I begin to contrast my younger self. Im always learning of the relationship of my own human nature to that of nature as a whole.” 

Across Donohue’s midsection is a faded tattoo that reads the words of the poet Dylan Thomas: “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

  Contact Dylan Francis at Communitarian@mail.dccc.edu

The Safety 7 unites for local welfare against Sonoco’s highly volatile pipeline 

By Dylan Francis

“A lovely young girl showed up at our door one day,” said Rosemary Fuller, a resident of  Middletown Township, Delaware County. “We invited her in and she told us that Sonoco was interested in purchasing an easement of the first few feet of our property. My husband Gordon and I told her that we would need to think about it. Well, you wouldn’t believe what she said! ‘By asking you, we’re really just being good neighbors,’ she told us. 'If you don’t sign, we’ll use eminent domain and take the land anyway. Plus, there’s absolutely no risk; you won’t even know that we’re here.’” 

This was Fuller’s introduction to Sonoco’s 20-inch Mariner East II and 16-inch Mariner East IIX natural gas liquid (NGL) pipelines soon to be installed in her front yard. Sonoco’s status as a public utility allowed them to take the Fuller property with financial compensation. 

Now, four years later, Fuller is involved in two separate legal battles with Sonoco due to damages and potential damages from the pipeline. 

The pipeline

A brief understanding of the Mariner East II project, part of the greater Pennsylvania Pipeline Project, is important to grasp the full picture.

Both MEII pipelines, as well as the adjacent ME1 and GRE are now technically owned by Energy Transfer Partners, a parent company of Sonoco. The MEII project will run from Eastern Ohio to Marcus hook, Delaware County, mostly following the 1930’s MEI easement. 

The MEI used to carry gasoline West, but has since been refitted and had its flow reversed to carry NGL’s to the Marcus Hook processing facility. Sonoco announced in 2019 a $200 million upgrade to the plants NGL processing facility in preparation for the completion of the MEII project. 

The 20-inch MEII is excepted to transfer 275,000 barrels per day when complete.

Living in a blast zone

The Fullers, who moved from the United Kingdom, have been in their home on Valley Road since 2003. They live nine miles from DCCC and six from the town center of Media. Their home now lies within the blast zone of four natural gas liquid pipelines: The GRE, The ME1, The MEII, And the MEIIX.

Two independent risk assessments state that the product running through the pipes is very dangerous, and considered a highly volatile liquid.

As construction on the new pipes began in 2016, Fuller started hearing reports of sinkholes appearing and wells being polluted in association with horizontal directional drilling, or HDD, which is part of the process of pipeline installation. 

Eventually, she came to learn that the GRE, a 1937 gasoline pipeline, which was refitted in 2017, was now carrying NGL’s just in front of her property on the shoulder of Valley road, adjacent to where the MEII and the MEIIX were to be installed. She also learned of the ME1 lines recent conversion, which lies 1100 feet behind her.   

Eric Friedman, who also lives on the pipeline’s right of way, exercised his Right-To-Know (a law concerning public information and hazardous materials,) and found that in Sonoco’s hazard assessments, they reported “the potential for mass causalities within a half mile of the pipeline in the case of a terrorist attack.”      

The Safety 7

Fuller began her activism in 2017. Not long after, she and six other Delaware and Chester County residents affected by the pipeline decided to form what they call the Safety 7.

The Safety 7 are currently in a lawsuit with the Pennsylvania Public Utility Commission against Sunoco to stop the building the pipeline until there is a viable safety plan in action in case of an emergency. 

The current emergency protocol in Sonoco’s 2016 brochure “Important Safety Message For Your Neighbor” advises residents to “Leave the area by foot immediately. Try to direct any other bystanders to leave the area. Attempt to stay upwind.”   

“Have you never put your finger in your mouth then held it up into the air?” asked a Sonoco attorney during the pre-hearing of the Safety 7 case in 2019, when someone inquired how to determine which way the wind was blowing. 

Meanwhile, a risk assessment done by G2 Integrated Solutions reported that an explosive vapor cloud could travel up to 6,800 feet from the pipeline in the event of a leak.

A vehicle is capable of igniting such a vapor cloud. 

Poisoned well water 

In early July, 2019, Fuller’s daughter, Stephanie, was hospitalized for gastrointestinal distress. Shortly after, two Sonoco contracted laboratories which tested the Fuller’s well water declared their well polluted with the following contaminates: bentonite, quartz, feldspar, chlorite group, E-coli and fecal coliform.

There is one substance in the well water Sonoco has yet to identify. 

Sonoco now supplies the Fuller home with bottled water. Fuller believes Sunoco is still in violation of the DEP permit conditions (Ch.102 and 105) which state that the issue is supposed to be resolved “to the satisfaction of the landowner.” 

While Sunoco offered to connect the Fuller residence to the public water supply, Fuller, through legal action, is also asking for a reverse-osmosis water filtration system to be installed in her home and to be connected to public sewer, so that her septic tank isn’t overburdened by the large amount of water used in the reverse osmosis process. The water purification method forces water through a semipermeable membrane, filtering all contaminates.

Aqua Pennsylvania, the public water provider, says in their 2018 Main Source reports, “The sources of drinking water (tap water and bottled water) include rivers, lakes, streams, ponds, reservoirs, springs, and wells. As water travels over the surface of the land or through the ground, it dissolves naturally occurring minerals and radioactive material, and can pick up substances resulting from the presence of animals or from human activity.” 

The report also recommends that people who may be immunocompromised speak to their doctor about their source of water, as they could be more susceptible to water born illness. 

Fuller said she is fighting for this because of multiple family members being immunocompromised. 

Sinkholes and neighborhood transformation

Several sinkholes have appeared along the HDD sights in Delaware County. One of these was less than a quarter mile from Fuller’s front door, on the intersection of Valley and Forge Roads.

Past the intersection lies Sleighton Park, a place where Fuller used to walk her dogs, and where the MEII installment is currently underway. The construction zone boasts high walls, private security, loud machinery, and large amounts of industrial bentonite clay. A children’s playground and soccer field can be seen in the background, well within the blast radius.

Middletown township received 1.8 million for the pipeline easements, which have an entry/exit point in the park. 

The issue of pipelines, pollution, and taken land is not unique to Fuller’s family and her neighbors in Middletown township. 

According to the United States Energy Information Administration, there are about 3 million miles of natural gas pipeline and approximately 219,000 miles of highly volatile liquid pipeline across the United States. The MEII project alone crosses 17 Pennsylvania counties. 

Since the year 2000, there have been 734 combined documented pipeline incidents across the United States, resulting in 282 deaths and 1193 injuries.

In 2010, a liquid natural gas pipeline owned by PG&E exploded in San Bruno, Calif., killing eight people and injuring many others. A vehicle drove into the vapor cloud released by the leaking pipe, causing ignition.

Natural gas liquids

The U.S. Energy Information Administration explains that natural gas liquids contain a variety of hydrocarbons including ethane, butane, propane, isobutane, and pentane. Their most common uses are plastic creation, inputs for petrochemical plants, burning for heat or cooking, or for blending into vehicle fuel. 

Highly volatile liquids are defined by the Pipeline and Hazardous Material Safety Administration as “A hazardous liquid which will form a vapor cloud when released into the atmosphere.” 

To be considered an HVL the product must also be of a certain pressure within the pipeline. The vapor cloud released in the case of a leak is heavier than air and concentrates on the ground, instead of evaporating. It can spread over a mile and be triggered to ignite, as is what happened in the San Bruno incident. 

Natural gas liquids are a product of the controversial natural gas extraction method of fracking. Fracking uses a combination of water, sand, and chemicals pumped at high pressure into the earth to break up rock and sediment and release natural gas and NGLs from subterranean fissures. 

The gas and liquid are then extracted. Cooling natural gas to around -260 F will turn it into liquid natural gas, which is about 600 times more dense than the original natural gas, making it highly explosive.

In the case of the MEII and adjacent pipelines, the product is being extracted from the Marcellus Shale in Western Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia. From there it takes the pipelines to Marcus Hook, where it is processed and sold. 

While some of the product is sold domestically, much is exported to Europe for plastic production. 

Eminent domain 

Eminent Domain stems from the 5th Amendment, which states “…nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.” 

The powers of eminent domain were expanded in 2005 following the Kelo vs. The City of New London case, wherein the Supreme Court ruled that taken land can be used for private use. 

The power of eminent domain is given to agencies or businesses granted the status of public utility, which is defined “ A businesses that provide the public with necessities, such as water, electricity, natural gas, and telephone and telegraph communication.” by West's Encyclopedia of American Law, edition 2.

Many in opposition to the pipeline’s use of eminent domain claim that the export of much of the product to Europe, resulting in private financial gain, causes the company to be in violation of the public utility criteria “Benefit to the public” which states: “The utility must use the eminent domain power to provide necessary services to its utility customers, not to advance its private business interests.”

Seeking justice      

Sunoco is currently under investigation in Chester County by D.A. Tom Hogan for having hired armed security who falsely claimed to be local law enforcement and for the appearance of sinkholes which are considered a form of “public endangerment.” 

Meanwhile, Fuller and the Safety 7 had a court date scheduled in Harrisburg for July which was originally planned to take up to 14 days, but has been postponed due to the coronavirus pandemic. They are being represented by a local attorney, Michael Bomstein, at no charge. 

“I was never in this to make money,” Bomstein said. “I think we could really make a difference here. It’s just the right thing to do.”

There are numerous organizations and people, including local schools, Middletown township, and other activists like Eric Friedman backing the Safety 7, and acting as intervenors in the court case. 

Today, Fuller is working closely with journalists and local organizations to tell the story of her community.

“The Safety 7 are working to protect our families and defend our homes,” Fuller said. “As these pipelines push in, peoples wells become compromised, their property values plummet and they become stuck living in a blast zone.”

ABOUT THE ARTICLES

A Q&A with Writer and Journalist Mark Bowden

Mercury and the Ese’Eja

Elizabeth Robertson Photojournalist Profile

Marple Township vs Carlino Developers

“The Lighthouse” review

Bowden at his desk, finishing an article for The Atlantic

To learn more about the struggle of the Ese’Eja, follow the link at bottom.

Available for sale to support ACEER’s mission are prints and Peruvian sourced sustainable Coffee beans.

From Kuwait to Cambodia with international journalist Matthew Donohue

By Dylan Francis

A Parliament cigarette is plucked from its retro, white and blue pack. It’s placed between the wine-stained lips of a man as he looks off his balcony into the rainy Long Island night. A matching blue lighter catches the end and a white puff of smoke drifts out from under the balcony light into the dark. 

“You see a lot of bad shit as a journalist,” he said. “Shit you don’t forget.”

Matthew Donohue, 40, stands at 5 feet 8 inches with a buzz cut and a trim dirty blond beard. A tattoo sleeve detailed with Asian symbolism decorates his right forearm. His demeanor is positive. 

In contrast to his seemly domestic appearance, his spirit is wholly untamed, reminiscent of . travel writer Paul Theroux’s statement “One whose lifeline is nothing but his own nerve.”

Donohue is a photojournalist and writer who is published in newspapers and magazines in the United States, Middle East, India, and Southeast Asia. He’s worked for numerous news agencies and speaks most highly of his time with Bazaar magazine in Kuwait. 

He enjoys covering what he refers to as “the human condition.” He is currently an equine photographer, covering horse racing and portraiture. He also covers long-distance sailboat racing and creates fine art.

A part of his story is told by every piece of memorabilia that inhabits his home. 

In the closet hang two formal Lebanese robes made of cashmere and elaborately hand stitched. Old and new cameras are displayed throughout the house. A camel harness that Donohue rode across a Jordanian desert is retired on a wall facing the living room. A handmade atlatl, a tool to assist in spear throwing, rests inconspicuously near the television.

In the kitchen, a bottle of special edition Woodford Reserve bourbon sits on a granite countertop next to a basket of aging bananas. The label shows a photo of mounted jockeys leaving the starting gate during the 144th Kentucky Derby. The bottle seemed to be blemished, covered in some sort of patternless, black markings. 

“Look closer,” Donohue says.

A closer inspection reveals signatures of every racing jockey covering the bottle front to back.

“Its priceless,” he said. “I’ll never drink it. If you touch it, I’ll kill ya!”

Later, seated at the barstool of a small Italian restaurant, Donohue’s social navigation expertise is evident. 

“What’s your name, babe?” he asks the bartender.

Asking the names of people and becoming quickly friendly and familiar with them seems to be a theme for Donohue. His unmistakable honesty is apparent through his direct of eye contact and ability to listen. His Sicilian heritage is revealed as he investigates the menu.

“There’s no such thing as Italian egg rolls!” He says, smiling and pointing at the appetizer. “My mother’s a real Italian cook. She would be furious.”

Resting his weight on his forearms, leaning forward, he begins to speak of Asia, all the while the Brooklyn accent he inherited from his “motha” is becoming more obvious. 

“Cambodia was a real mentality shift,” Donohue says. “I thought I had seen it all. In 2009, I took a bus from Saigon, Vietnam to Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital. I couldn’t have been prepared for what I was going to see and feel there.”

Donohue is referring to the genocide that took place during the late 1970’s under the rule of the Communist Khmer Rouge regime led by Pol Pot. Genocide, famine, and death from treatable disease resulted in the deaths of up to 2 million people, a quarter of Cambodia’s population at that time.

“The hotel I had booked was across the street from S-21,” Donohue says.

S-21 is another name for the infamous prison, Tuol Sleng. The old school was converted into a torture facility after Pol Pot took power. Of the approximately 15 thousand falsely accused and interrogated there, only 12 survived. The rest were taken to the killing fields. There is still dried blood on the floor of S-21, which now serves as a museum and memorial. 

“I met an older man whose face was severely disfigured,” Donohue says. “He was one of the survivors. You don’t see many old people in ‘The City of Ghosts.”

Donohue hailed a tuk tuk motorcycle taxi to the killing fields. He recalls the weather being perfect on that December day. He stood atop a patch of ground which was unearthing the bones and clothes of those buried there.

“There were thousands of butterflies hovering just feet above the endless unmarked graves,” he says. “It changed me completely. The unforgivingness and pain contrasting the beauty of our lives. It was all here in this magnificent and haunting Cambodian landscape.”

Donohue was reminded of the quote by film director Terrence Malick: “What are these wars in the heart of nature?”

Donohue was born in Connecticut but spent most of his young life in Hockessin, Delaware and Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. When he was 3 years old, his uncle was killed in the Beirut barracks bombing in Lebanon. This would have a significant influence on Donohue’s later life and choice of profession. 

Donohue was always an artist. At 15, he picked up his first camera. Donohue would later describe photography as his “philosophy.” He attended The Pratt Institute in New York City, majoring in advertising and design. 

“I loved it,” Donohue says. “Pursuing a life in the arts is high stakes.” 

Upon graduation, Donohue went right into the graphic design world and began working for Saatchi & Saatchi, but only remained there for a short time. 

“I was making really good money for being 25,” Donohue says. “But, if I have to be honest, I was angry. I hated it. I wasn’t connected to life. The corporate world has this effect of making you not care about anything.” 

A friend mentioned to Donohue he should check out South Korea. He moved there and found work as a photographer and journalist. 

“I left it all,” Donohue says. “I moved to South Korea leaving behind everything. I remember thinking to myself, ‘I prefer to live here in squalor then go back to the corporate life.’ ” 

Donohue’s curiosity of the Middle East had existed since the passing of his uncle. He took an opportunity to teach photography in Kuwait and soon after began working for Bazaar magazine. He had a chance to explore Lebanon and visit the city of Beirut where his uncle had passed. 

“I visited the place where he was stationed and where it happened,” Donohue recalls. “I understood the city. I fell in love with Lebanon and its people. That was one of my first great learning experiences.”

While writing for Bazaar, Donohue worked as a columnist. He would write a variety of articles including profiles, travel pieces, and poetry. The position allowed him the opportunity to explore India, Lebanon, Vietnam, Cambodia and other countries.

Donohue was in the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon on the Syrian border when the Syrian civil war began. He remembers seeing and hearing the missiles fly overhead, which gave him the idea to travel to Syria to document the emerging refugee crisis. 

While planning to sneak into Syria through a Lebanese connection, he found out he was to be a father. Learning this, he decided to remain home, prioritize safety and raise his daughter. His time of working overseas came to an end.

“A camera can act as a psychological shield,” Donohue says, adding that the pain and poverty he witnessed in the Middle East had affected him. He acknowledges that documenting the issues helped deal with the trauma of experiencing them, but still he felt a need for something new. 

After moving to Long Island to be close to his daughter Olivia, whom he calls “Cheeks,” he found himself a new creative obsession: horses and all things equine. Soon Donohue would be shooting the 144th Kentucky Derby. 

“A very special moment,” Donohue says about the experience. “The love of my daughter and these huge beautiful animals are my process of healing.”

He feels strongly about Frisians, a draft breed that carry a pure black coat and are well known for their warm personalities. He describes them simply as “elegance.”

One day, Donohue decided he was ready to begin writing again. He stopped at a local dock hoping to do a story about the oyster industry. He quickly found himself covering sail boat races instead. 

Fiddling with his favorite lens, [a Canon prime 85mm with a potential aperture of f 1.2,] he pulls out a magazine. On the cover is a beautiful photograph of a sail boat. The sails are full of wind and life as the sun sets in the background.

“This is one of mine,” he says. “I find myself being pulled back into the gray zone of balancing danger and work. Not long ago, I accompanied a crew on a race to Bermuda.”

The Newport Bermuda race is a 635-mile journey done entirely on wind power. It averages five to six days one way. There is no bathroom aboard. Sea sickness and cabin fever are very real threats.

Donohue recalls standing on the deck of the 40 foot yacht. The sails were still. They were in a high pressure zone. The wind was gone, and no one knew when it would return. 

“Essentially, we’re dead until we reach Bermuda,” Donohue says. “We took a loan out on our lives leaving the dock in Rhode Island.”

He said they took four-hour shifts but he wasn’t able to sleep.

“Nothing is crazier than being 300 miles out to sea on a sailboat with no wind,” Donohue says. “One of our guys started to lose it. ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he kept saying to me as I lay on my bunk. His eyes were distant. ‘You need to get your shit together,’ I told him. ‘Were almost there.’”

Donohue knew that if the man went topside with his panic, it could cause a domino effect among the other nine sailors.

“I’ve learned that when I’m truly terrified, it’s better to be completely silent,” Donohue says. “We were all scared. The stillness and vastness of that ocean is the most frightening thing I’ve ever experienced. My reconciliation came at night in the form of the Milky Way. Our great insignificance was as clear to me as the stars above. I lay on the deck alone with nothing to hold onto but the celestial wonder of our galaxy. I had understood our fragility in the world. The ocean helped me to accept vulnerability, but without letting it rule me.”

Today, Donohue is happy to be spending his days in the company of his daughter and the Frisian horses he’s grown to love. 

“If it wasn’t for my daughter and my camera I don’t know where I’d be,” Donohue says. “Being a father really tuned me in with life and death. I look back and realize that the longer I live the more I begin to contrast my younger self. Im always learning of the relationship of my own human nature to that of nature as a whole.” 

Across Donohue’s midsection is a faded tattoo that reads the words of the poet Dylan Thomas: “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”