Category: Analysis

Source: – By George E. Mitchell, Professor of Public and International Affairs, Baruch College, CUNY

Charitable donors often make gifts despite having little information about the organizations they support. Without relevant data, that money may not flow to the charities that evidence suggests are delivering the biggest bang for donors’ bucks.

But getting good information about what donors call “impact” takes money, time and effort. If donors are responsible for those costs, then they may not obtain the data, and charities would be less likely to produce the data in the first place.

I’m a public and international affairs professor who researches nonprofits and philanthropy.. I conducted a study in 2023 with Chengxin Xu and Huafang Li, two other scholars of nonprofit management, to better understand whether these costs influence how donors pick charities. Through this study, which involved nearly 2,000 U.S. adults, we were able to estimate how much impact may be lost when donors incur information costs themselves.

Impact refers to the effects a charity achieves. Donors can try to get the most impact per dollar by supporting charities that achieve high impact at low cost.

We asked the participants in our experiment to choose one of 10 hypothetical charities to receive support. All the charities had the same mission: “to save lives.” Everyone was paired with a fictitious partner who would also be supporting the selected charity. Before choosing, the participant had the option to obtain information about each organization’s impact per dollar.

About half the time, the participant could pay for the information themselves out of their own hypothetical budget. In the other half, they could tell their partner to pay out of their partner’s budget. The charity would receive the combined gifts, minus any money paid for information. The total amount spent stayed the same no matter who paid or whether anyone paid.

When someone else paid, participants were more likely to direct their gifts to more efficient charities, raising the average impact of donations by about 13%. In other words, donors gave smarter when someone else picked up the tab for the information.

Why it matters

Americans gave more than US$550 billion to charity in 2023.

If shifting information costs can boost the impact of charitable giving by 13%, then applying that gain to just one-tenth of that giving could potentially unlock about $7 billion worth of additional impact. Funders who are very interested in the potential of data to increase impact, such as effective altruists, philanthropists who emphasize outcomes, and some large foundations, may be willing to bear the costs so others don’t have to. The challenge is that not all donors are equally willing to pay for information that could increase the impact of charitable giving.

Other research findings have suggested that most Americans want to see data about the impact that charities have, but it is not obvious where the funding for this should come from. If charities cover the cost themselves, then they are essentially asking their donors to pay for it. But many donors may want all their gifts to pay for program delivery, not data production.

What still isn’t known

It’s unclear how well these findings would translate into real-world giving behavior. Donors’ appetite for information that comes at the expense of direct services may be limited, even if it improves the overall impact of their gifts. And using data about impact per dollar to guide giving could have downsides. For example, it might reward work that is easy to measure and discourage efforts that are just as important but are harder to assess, or just take longer for the results to be seen.

What’s next

Philanthropists can access more data about charities than ever before. Platforms like Candid and Charity Navigator offer the potential to harness that data to better inform donors. Organizations like GiveWell go even further, recommending specific charities based on rigorous data analysis. I’ll be studying these kinds of opportunities for boosting the impact of charitable giving, because when donors are better informed, they can accomplish more with their money.

The Research Brief is a short take about interesting academic work.

George E. Mitchell receives funding from the Baruch College Fund.

– ref. Outsourcing cost of ‘impact’ data could mean 13% more bang for every charitable buck – https://theconversation.com/outsourcing-cost-of-impact-data-could-mean-13-more-bang-for-every-charitable-buck-255825

Source: – By Nancy Forster-Holt, Clinical Associate Professor of Innovation and Entrepreneurship, University of Rhode Island

Americans love small businesses. We dedicate a week each year to applauding them, and spend Small Business Saturday shopping locally. Yet hiding in plain sight is an enormous challenge facing small business owners as they age: retiring with dignity and foresight. The current economic climate is making this even more difficult.

As a professor who studies aging and business, I’ve long viewed small business owners’ retirement challenges as a looming crisis. The issue is now front and center for millions of entrepreneurs approaching retirement. Small enterprises make up more than half of all privately held U.S. companies, and for many of their owners, the business is their retirement plan.

But while owners often hope to finance their golden years by selling their companies, only 20% of small businesses are ready for sale even in good times, according to the Exit Planning Institute. And right now, conditions are far from ideal. An economic stew of inflation, supply chain instability and high borrowing costs means that interest from potential buyers is cooling.

For many business owners, retirement isn’t a distant concern. In the U.S., baby boomers – who are currently 61 to 79 years old – own about 2.3 million businesses. Altogether, they generate about US$5 billion in revenue and employ almost 25 million people. These entrepreneurs have spent decades building businesses that often are deeply rooted in their communities. They don’t have time to ride out economic chaos, and their optimism is at a 50-year low.

New policies, new challenges

You can’t blame them for being gloomy. Recent policy shifts have only made life harder for business owners nearing retirement. Trade instability, whipsawing tariff announcements and disrupted supply chains have eroded already thin margins. Some businesses – generally larger ones with more negotiating power – are absorbing extra costs rather than passing them on to shoppers. Others have no choice but to raise prices, to customers’ dismay. Inflation has further squeezed profits.

At the same time, with a few notable exceptions, buyers and capital have grown scarce. Acquirers and liquidity have dried up across many sectors. The secondary market – a barometer of broader investor appetite – now sees more sellers than buyers. These are textbook symptoms of a “flight to safety,” a market shift that drags out sale timelines and depresses valuations – all while Main Street business owners age out. These entrepreneurs typically have one shot at retirement – if any.

Adding to these woes, many small businesses are part of what economists call regional “clusters,” providing services to nearby universities, hospitals and local governments. When those anchor institutions face budget cuts – as is happening now – small business vendors are often the first to feel the impact.

Research shows that many aging owners actually double down in weak economic times, sinking increasing amounts of time and money in a psychological pattern known as “escalating commitment.” The result is a troubling phenomenon scholars refer to as “benign entrapment.” Aging entrepreneurs can remain attached to their businesses not because they want to, but because they see no viable exit.

This growing crisis isn’t about bad personal planning — it’s a systemic failure.

Rewriting the playbook on small business policy

A key mistake that policymakers make is to lump all small business owners together into one group. That causes them to overlook important differences. After all, a 68-year-old carpenter trying to retire doesn’t have much in common with a 28-year-old tech founder pitching a startup. Policymakers may cheer for high-growth “unicorns,” but they often overlook the “cows and horses” that keep local economies running.

Even among older business owners, circumstances vary based on local conditions. Two retiring carpenters in different towns may face vastly different prospects based on the strength of their local economies. No business, and no business owner, exists in a vacuum.

Relatedly, when small businesses fail to transition, it can have consequences for the local economy. Without a buyer, many enterprises will simply shut down. And while closures can be long-planned and thoughtful, when a business closes suddenly, it’s not just the owner who loses. Employees are left scrambling for work. Suppliers lose contracts. Communities lose essential services.

Four ways to help aging entrepreneurs

That’s why I think policymakers should reimagine how they support small businesses, especially owners nearing the end of their careers.

First, small business policy should be tailored to age. A retirement-ready business shouldn’t be judged solely by its growth potential. Rather, policies should recognize stability and community value as markers of success. The U.S. Small Business Administration and regional agencies can provide resources specifically for retirement planning that starts early in a business’s life, to include how to increase the value of the business and a plan to attract acquirers in later stages.

Second, exit infrastructure should be built into local entrepreneurial ecosystems. Entrepreneurial ecosystems are built to support business entry – think incubators and accelerators – but not for exit. In other words, just like there are accelerators for launching businesses, there should be programs to support winding them down. These could include confidential peer forums, retirement-readiness clinics, succession matchmaking platforms and flexible financing options for acquisition.

Third, chaos isn’t good for anybody. Fluctuations in capital gains taxes, estate tax thresholds and tariffs make planning difficult and reduce business value in the eyes of potential buyers. Stability encourages confidence on both sides of a transaction.

And finally, policymakers should include ripple-effect analysis in budget decisions. When universities, hospitals or governments cut spending, small business vendors often absorb much of the shock. Policymakers should account for these downstream impacts when shaping local and federal budgets.

If we want to truly support small businesses and their owners, it’s important to honor the lifetime arc of entrepreneurship – not just the launch and growth, but the retirement, too.

Nancy Forster-Holt does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. No country for old business owners: Economic shifts create a growing challenge for America’s aging entrepreneurs – https://theconversation.com/no-country-for-old-business-owners-economic-shifts-create-a-growing-challenge-for-americas-aging-entrepreneurs-254537

Source: – By Andres Clarens, Professor of Civil and Environmental Engineering, University of Virginia

The U.S. Department of Energy’s decision to claw back US$3.7 billion in grants from industrial demonstration projects may create an unexpected opening for American manufacturing.

Many of the grant recipients were deploying carbon capture and storage – technologies that are designed to prevent industrial carbon pollution from entering the atmosphere by capturing it and injecting it deep underground. The approach has long been considered critical for reducing the contributions chemicals, cement production and other heavy industries make to climate change.

However, the U.S. policy reversal could paradoxically accelerate emissions cuts from the industrial sector.

An emissions reality check

Heavy industry is widely viewed as the toughest part of the economy to clean up.

The U.S. power sector has made progress, cutting emissions 35% since 2005 as coal-fired power plants were replaced with cheaper natural gas, solar and wind energy. More than 93% of new grid capacity installed in the U.S. in 2025 was forecast to be solar, wind and batteries. In transportation, electric vehicles are the fastest-growing segment of the U.S. automotive market and will lead to meaningful reductions in pollution.

But U.S. industrial emissions have been mostly unchanged, in part because of the massive amount of coal, gas and oil required to make steel, concrete, aluminum, glass and chemicals. Together these materials account for about 22% of U.S. greenhouse gas emissions.

The global industrial landscape is changing, though, and U.S. industries cannot, in isolation, expect that yesterday’s means of production will be able to compete in a global marketplace.

Even without domestic mandates to reduce their emissions, U.S. industries face powerful economic pressures. The EU’s new Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism imposes a tax on the emissions associated with imported steel, chemicals, cement and aluminum entering European markets. Similar policies are being considered by Canada, Japan, Singapore, South Korea and the United Kingdom, and were even floated in the United States.

The false promise of carbon capture

The appeal of carbon capture and storage, in theory, was that it could be bolted on to an existing factory with minimal changes to the core process and the carbon pollution would go away.

Government incentives for carbon capture allow producers to keep using polluting technologies and prop up gas-powered chemical production or coal-powered concrete production.

The Trump administration’s pullback of carbon capture and storage grants now removes some of these artificial supports.

Without the expectation that carbon capture will help them meet regulations, this may create space to focus on materials breakthroughs that could revolutionize manufacturing while solving industries’ emissions problems.

The materials innovation opportunity

So, what might emissions-lowering innovation look like for industries such as cement, steel and chemicals? As a civil and environmental engineer who has worked on federal industrial policy, I study the ways these industries intersect with U.S. economic competitiveness and our built environment.

There are many examples of U.S. innovation to be excited about. Consider just a few industries:

Cement: Cement is one of the most widely used materials on Earth, but the technology has changed little over the past 150 years. Today, its production generates roughly 8% of total global carbon pollution. If cement production were a country, it would rank third globally after China and the United States.

Researchers are looking at ways to make concrete that can shed heat or be lighter in weight to significantly reduce the cost of building and cooling a home. Sublime Systems developed a way to produce cement with electricity instead of coal or gas. The company lost its IDP grant in May 2025, but it has a new agreement with Microsoft.

Making concrete do more could accelerate the transition. Researchers at Stanford and separately at MIT are developing concrete that can act as a capacitor and store over 10 kilowatt-hours of energy per cubic meter. Such materials could potentially store electricity from your solar roof or allow for roadways that can charge cars in motion.

Technologies like these could give U.S. companies a competitive advantage while lowering emissions. Heat-shedding concrete cuts air conditioning demand, lighter formulations require less material per structure, and energy-storing concrete could potentially replace carbon-intensive battery manufacturing.

Steel and iron: Steel and iron production generate about 7% of global emissions with centuries-old blast furnace processes that use intense heat to melt iron ore and burn off impurities. A hydrogen-based steelmaking alternative exists today that emits only water vapor, but it requires new supply chains, infrastructure and production techniques.

U.S. Steel has been developing techniques to create stronger microstructures within steel for constructing structures with 50% less material and more strength than conventional designs. When a skyscraper needs that much less steel to achieve the same structural integrity, that eliminates millions of tons of iron ore mining, coal-fired blast furnace operations and transportation emissions.

Chemicals: Chemical manufacturing has created simultaneous crises over the past 50 years: PFAS “forever chemicals” and microplastics have been showing up in human blood and across ecosystems, and the industry generates a large share of U.S. industrial emissions.

Companies are developing ways to produce chemicals using engineered enzymes instead of traditional petrochemical processes, achieving 90% lower emissions in a way that could reduce production costs. These bio-based chemicals can naturally biodegrade, and the chemical processes operate at room temperature instead of requiring high heat that uses a lot of energy.

Is there a silver bullet without carbon capture?

While carbon capture and storage might not be the silver bullet for reducing emissions that many people thought it would be, new technologies for managing industrial heat might turn out to be the closest thing to one.

Most industrial processes require temperatures between 300 and 1830 degrees Fahrenheit (150 and 1000 degrees Celsisus for everything from food processing to steel production. Currently, industries burn fossil fuels directly to generate this heat, creating emissions that electric alternatives cannot easily replace. Heat batteries may offer a breakthrough solution by storing renewable electricity as thermal energy, then releasing that heat on demand for industrial processes.

Companies such as Rondo Energy are developing systems that store wind and solar power in bricklike materials heated to extreme temperatures. Essentially, they convert electricity into heat during times when electricity is abundant, usually at night. A manufacturing facility can later use that heat, which allows it to reduce energy costs and improve grid reliability by not drawing power at the busiest times. The Trump administration cut funding for projects working with Rondo’s technology, but the company’s products are being tested in other countries.

Industrial heat pumps provide another pathway by amplifying waste heat to reach the high temperatures manufacturing requires, without using as much fossil fuel.

The path forward

The Department of Energy’s decision forces industrial America into a defining moment. One path leads backward toward pollution-intensive business as usual propping up obsolete processes. The other path drives forward through innovation.

Carbon capture offered an expensive Band-Aid on old technology. Investing in materials innovation and new techniques for making them promises fundamental transformation for the future.

Andres Clarens receives funding from the National Science Foundation and the Alfred P Sloan Foundation.

– ref. How the end of carbon capture could spark a new industrial revolution – https://theconversation.com/how-the-end-of-carbon-capture-could-spark-a-new-industrial-revolution-257894

Source: – By Jon Bergdoll, Associate Director of Data Partnerships at the Lilly Family School of Philanthropy, Indiana University

U.S. charitable giving increased 3.3% to US$593 billion in 2024, lifted by the strength of the economy.

The annual report from the Giving USA Foundation, produced in partnership with the Indiana University Lilly Family School of Philanthropy,
found that this was the second-highest level on record after adjusting for inflation.

Giving grew at the fastest pace since 2021, when the COVID-19 pandemic led many Americans to make larger-than-usual donations. It was also the first time since then that growth in giving outpaced inflation.

As two of the report’s lead researchers, we see many signs of healthy growth in charitable giving in 2024. Our data shows that the strong economy, which grew 2.8% in 2024, bolstered individual and corporate giving and allowed foundations to maintain the historically high level of giving seen from them in recent years.

It also helped that stock markets performed well in 2024, consumer sentiment was generally positive, personal income rose and inflation continued to ease.

Donations to nearly every charitable category we track grew.

Individuals and corporations led overall growth

Individual donors continued to provide the bulk of the nation’s charitable gifts. The $392 billion they gave to charity accounted for two-thirds of the year’s total. Giving by individuals grew 5.1% from 2023 − a swifter pace than for all donations.

Corporate giving rose even faster. It was up 6% to a record $44 billion.

This growth reflects the high pretax profits earned by corporations in 2024 and the trend toward corporations donating a higher share of pretax profits in recent years.

For example, corporations generally donated less than 1% of pretax profits from 2004-2018. But our research team started to see corporate giving rise to 1% or more in the 2019 data. This was also the case in 2024, when corporate giving stood at 1.1% of pretax profits.

Corporate philanthropy has grown by more than 50% since 2019, a trend that has coincided with rising in-kind donations of insulin products and other pharmaceuticals. Drugmakers made an estimated $24 billion in these donations in 2024 − up 41% since 2019.

To be sure, corporations’ donations amounted to just 7% of overall giving in 2024.

Meanwhile, grants made by foundations exceeded $100 billion for the third straight year. Almost $1 out of every $5 contributed to charity was from a foundation in each of those years.

Giving by foundations in the five years ending in 2024 was higher than any other period since Giving USA has tracked this data. Foundation giving, however, remained fairly flat from 2023 to 2024, at about $110 billion.

Around 8% of all gifts made in 2024 were from bequests included in people’s wills, the same as in 2023. Bequests totaled $44 billion, down 4.4% when adjusted for inflation. But the total given through bequests varies quite a bit from year to year.

Most kinds of donations increased

Donations to most of the nine charitable categories Giving USA tracks increased. The one exception: Gifts to churches and other religious institutions fell 1%. But religious giving remained by far the top category, followed by human services and education.

Religious causes received 23% of all donations, a total of $147 billion. Giving to human services nonprofits, such as food banks and homeless shelters, increased considerably during the pandemic. It now accounts for about 14% of all donations. In 2024, these gifts totaled $91 billion.

Giving to education, which primarily consists of donations to colleges and universities has tended to grow more slowly than overall giving in recent years.

Giving for education rebounded to a record high in 2024, however, rising nearly 10% from a year earlier. And these gifts have grown at a quick pace over the past decade, increasing by more than 22% from 2015 to 2024. The $88 billion in gifts received for education in 2024 was the third-largest of the nine categories we follow.

Several other categories also reached all-time highs of giving in 2024: health, at $61 billion; arts, culture and humanities, at $25 billion; and environment and animals, at $22 billion.

The increases in giving for most kinds of nonprofits, supported by strong growth in giving by individuals and corporations, indicate that the charitable sector ended 2024 in a relatively solid position.

Jon Bergdoll receives grant funding from the Giving USA Foundation, which publishes Giving USA.

Christina Daniken receives grant funding from the Giving USA Foundation, which publishes Giving USA.

– ref. Charitable giving grew to $593B in 2024, propelled by a strengthening US economy and a booming stock market – https://theconversation.com/charitable-giving-grew-to-593b-in-2024-propelled-by-a-strengthening-us-economy-and-a-booming-stock-market-259221

Source: – By Jennifer Pindyck, Assistant Professor of Architecture, Auburn University

Imagine your parents leave you and your siblings a share of land that’s been in your family for generations. Several of your relatives already live on the land, and you’d like to do the same; but you can’t get a loan to build or renovate a home without permission from all the relatives who also share ownership. And at any moment, another heir could sell their share, triggering a court-ordered sale that could force you off the land – and lose everything you’ve invested in.

This is the reality of what’s known as heirs’ property: land passed down informally, without clear wills or deeds, which results in a “tangled” or “clouded” title.

It’s more common than you might think in the U.S., especially in rural areas, and it presents significant challenges to long-term housing stability.

Research shows that within 44 states and the District of Columbia, there are an estimated 508,371
heirs’ properties, with an assessed value of US$32 billion. (There wasn’t reliable enough data in six states.)

It’s more of an issue in some states, such as Alabama. But it’s also a problem in cities such as New York City and Philadelphia.

Because it’s so difficult to finance home construction on this land, sell it or leverage it, heirs’ property can leave families vulnerable to exploitation and perpetuate cycles of poverty. Despite these challenges, many families have nonetheless lived together and supported one another on shared land for generations.

As faculty and collaborators with Auburn University’s Rural Studio, we study heirs’ property and its role in shaping housing access. Based in Hale County, Alabama, Rural Studio has completed over 200 projects – many of them homes built on heirs’ property – providing critical housing for families facing complex land ownership challenges.

Land with no clear owner

The lack of a clear will or deed often happens due to inadequate access to – and distrust of – the legal system.

Once the land is passed down to the next generation, the heirs are known as “tenants in common,” meaning they own an undivided interest in the entire property. As the property continues to pass down from generation to generation, the number of tenants in common increases exponentially.

Without clear title, no single person or group can make decisions about the property. Every heir must legally sign off on any action, which makes it nearly impossible to secure traditional forms of financing, obtain insurance, access disaster relief, or use the land as collateral.

Those living on the land often pay their share of property taxes, but distant or unaware heirs might not, which puts the entire property at risk of being lost through a tax lien sale. This leaves families with property in “tangled” status exposed to predatory land acquisition practices that often lead to land loss.

Any tenant in common can sell their share to an outside party. These outside parties – either individuals or companies – can then request a court to order what’s called a partition by sale, which can push every other owner off the land.

Imagine three siblings inherit a piece of land from their parents and are now tenants in common. One sibling sells their share to a real estate investor. That investor then goes to court and requests a partition by sale. The court then orders the entire property sold and the proceeds split among the owners, effectively forcing the other two siblings off the land, even if they wanted to keep it.

Such tactics are especially common in the Black Belt region of the U.S., which covers Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia and South Carolina; as such, they disproportionately affect Black Americans.

Why family-owned land matters

Our research in Hale County, Alabama, finds that Black families in particular have supported one another for generations while living on heirs’ property.

These multigenerational kinship networks rely on one another for child care, elder care, food, transportation and shared utility costs. But the value of this sort of living situation goes beyond social and economic benefits. The land can be woven into family lore or be steeped in the history of the surrounding area.

So, despite the legal and financial challenges, many extended families will do whatever they can to continue living together on their land. Even a small stake in heirs’ property offers connection to the past and a place to return home in the future.

These informal kinship networks can provide support and resilience in ways that traditional forms of land and homeownership do not. Putting all of the people who own the land on the title – what’s known as “clearing title” – is not only costly and time-consuming, but it also often requires dividing up the property into smaller parcels, which can prevent some family members from living on the land altogether.

Meanwhile, traditional legal and financial products – think mortgages and land-use agreements with farmers – tend to be structured with sole ownership in mind. Most banks and institutions simply won’t lend to heirs’ property with tangled titles.

There have been recent efforts to protect these informal arrangements. The Uniform Partition of Heirs Property Act, which has been enacted in 25 states, ensures due process and sets up safeguards against immediate partition by sale actions.

For example, if a suit is brought by a co-owner, a fair market value appraisal – or an agreed-upon value by all parties – must be conducted. The other shareholders of the land also have the option to buy out the shareholder bringing the suit. Under the statute, additional partition methods may be considered. And if a sale is required, it’s done on the open market.

Many organizations are working to address issues related to heirs’ property and tangled titles. Most of the work centers on clearing title, establishing shared land agreements and teaching landowners how to avoid having their property fall into a tangled title situation. For example, the Florida Housing Coalition, Housing Assistance Council and the Alabama Heirs Property Alliance are actively engaged in community education, legal support, data mapping and policy advocacy.

Build first, ask permission later

Many rural families on heirs’ property have limited pathways to homeownership. Financial constraints, limited access to quality housing options and lot restrictions have often forced residents to settle for older, substandard, manufactured homes. Small utility sheds have even begun to replace broken-down trailer homes in many rural areas.

There’s clearly a need for safe, durable housing that enables these families to build generational wealth. And that’s where Rural Studio comes in.

Building new housing or renovating existing structures means dealing with a web of zoning laws, building codes and land development ordinances, which are all tied to financing and lending systems. While many efforts to address heirs’ property aim to change legal policies, we approach this issue through housing.

We use what we call a “build first” strategy. Using funds from research grants and donations, we simply start building on heirs’ properties with the permission of families. In the process, we show that if tangled titles were no longer an obstacle, much more housing could be built.

One of our recent Rural Studio projects is the 18×18 House, a compact, multistory home built for a young man living on heirs’ property in Alabama.

The home is nestled between several other family members’ homes. We had to work around existing electrical lines, a septic field, roads and steep topography. Despite these site constraints, the house is an ideal starter home: big enough for the young man and a future partner to live comfortably on the family plot. If he ever decides to leave, other family members can move in.

Rather than focusing on one-off products, our goal with the 18×18 House is to develop replicable housing prototypes that respond to the realities of intergenerational living on family land. We also hope that tangible housing will help policymakers understand the value of reform.

The question isn’t whether design can respond to these challenges, but how it can lead by pushing antiquated regulatory and legal frameworks to evolve.

This article is part of a series centered on envisioning ways to deal with the housing crisis.

Jennifer Pindyck receives funding from Fannie Mae, Wells Fargo and the Center for Architecture, in partnership with AIA New York. She is affiliated with the Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture and is a registered architect in the state of Georgia.

Christian Ayala Lopez work is funded through a diverse range of organizations such as Fannie Mae, USDA, and Center for Architecture NY. He is affiliated to Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture, National Council of Architectural Registration Boards, and member of Florida Housing Coalition.

Rusty Smith receives funding from Fannie Mae, USDA, Wells Fargo and Regions Bank. He is affiliated with the Housing Assistance Council, the American Institute of Architects, the Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture, the National Renewable Energy Laboratory Innovation Incubator, the EPA Collegiate/Underserved Community Partnership and the Bipartisan Policy Center.

– ref. Family homesteads with tangled titles are contributing to rural America’s housing crisis – https://theconversation.com/family-homesteads-with-tangled-titles-are-contributing-to-rural-americas-housing-crisis-254679

Source: – By Kimmika Williams-Witherspoon, Professor of Theater, Temple University

To celebrate Father’s Day, The Conversation U.S. asked Philadelphia anthropologist, playwright and poetic ethnographer Kimmika Williams-Witherspoon to reflect on a poem she recently performed to accompany a 1986 photograph by Philadelphia photographer Joseph V. Labolito.

Williams-Witherspoon, who also serves as senior associate dean of the Center for the Performing and Cinematic Arts at Temple University, shares how the collaboration came about, and why one of Labolito’s photos in particular brought back a rush of cherished memories of being a little girl hanging out with her dad.

    There Are Black Fathers 
    To Daddy, Father’s Day, June 19, 1983

    I’ve known men 
    Who rise at dawn 
    To run a sort of race; 
    Working through sleep 
    Stopping long enough to yawn
    Providing for their families Just a little      
    place. 
    Black men going, going, going 
    (sometimes, till their gone.) 

    I’ve known men 
    Who trudge home after long hours 
    And an even longer pain, 
    And still manage to smile, 
    Warmed by the voice of a child. 
    "Hi, Daddy!" 
    "How was your day?" 

    I’ve known men Who take care 
    Even when Mommy can’t. 
    And, even though they can only 
    Cook hamburgers really good, 
    They put band-aids on awfully well. 

    I’ve known men 
    Who loving replace lost teeth 
    With shiny new dimes; 
    Remember birthdays and Christmas’. 
    Dutifully repair 
    Old, broken toys And, even, sometimes, 
    Wipe away salty tears. 

    I’ve known men 
    Who reprimand, 
    Teach us values 
    And, if we’re lucky, 
    Along with Mom, 
    Help us take a stand. 
    Who calm us when we’re frightened; 
    Scare us when we’re bad — Hold our hands. 

    I’ve known men, 
    Not just as Fathers; 
    But, more so, as "Dads" — 
    Who give us what we get 
    And gave us what we had. 
    Loving and kind; 
    Stern, yet strong, 
    I’ve known men 
    Who’ve guided generations along 
    As provider, supporter, parent — Pop, Dad! 

    There are Black fathers 
    Who would gladly do it again 
    Parenting future generations. 
    Yes, I have known These men. 

    © 2025 Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

What do you want people to take away from the poem?

The whole poem is a tribute to my father, Samuel Hawes Jr., who lived from 1920 to 1989, and the many men like him who were always present and participatory in the parenting of their children and the providing for their families.

Because of stereotypes and popular culture – media, movies, news stories – that tend to demonize and pathologize Black men, there’s a myth that men in our communities are all cut from the same cloth.

For me, the poem discounts that stereotypical narrative and celebrates the African American men that I knew growing up – Daddy, my uncles, the deacons in our church, the neighborhood dads on my block.

The men in this photograph represent men like Daddy, who at one point worked two jobs to provide for his family. He drove a yellow cab and worked the graveyard shift as a presser at the U.S. Mint. He took me to school every morning when I was in high school. He made it to every school function or occasion, drove me to and from parties so I could hang out with friends, took me to church every Sunday morning and on those special road trips to Cleveland, Akron, Ohio, and Fort Lauderdale, Florida, throughout my life.

Tell us about your collaborator for this piece

Joe Labolito is a Philadelphia photographer whose work, I believe, is visual ethnography at its best. Throughout the ‘80s, ’90s and 2000s, he documented the people, streets and neighborhoods of Philadelphia. His photographs are housed in several public and private collections, including the Special Collections Research Center at Temple University and the Free Library of Philadelphia’s Print and Picture Collection.

About a year ago, I saw an exhibit of Joe’s work at Temple. Since that time, I have been using some of his photographs as a visual prompt for my students, while he and I talked about doing something together down the road.

When I was asked to participate in Temple University President John Fry’s investiture events in March 2025, I asked Joe if he wanted to do something with me. Right away he said “Yes … whatever it is.” I asked him to send me maybe 25 of his favorite photos, and instead, he sent me about a hundred. When I got a minute to sift through them, there were 11 that, as soon as I looked at them, immediately prompted lines of poetry.

This photograph of the two men and the little girl, however, made me remember an old poem, “There Are Black Fathers,” I had written a long time ago – on Father’s Day on June 19, 1983 – for my father before he passed away from prostate and bone cancer. I went digging through my old journals until I found the poem that I had written for Daddy, and I performed that poem to this photograph at the event.

What stood out to you about this photograph?

The juxtaposition between the men and the little girl – their beautiful, bright smiles, the joy they seemed to radiate – it all made me think about and remember how much I loved Daddy my entire life but especially as a little girl.

That’s the power in these kinds of artistic, material and visual artifacts. This photograph transported me right back to my childhood, filled with the warmth of a summer’s day, hanging out with my dad, and the promise of a banana Popsicle later in the afternoon.

What is your process for writing a poem to accompany a photograph?

Whatever the prompt – a photograph, a landscape, a person I’ve passed on the street, a word or phrase – the first draft is a free-write sensory download dump. I ruminate and then write down everything that comes to me in whatever order it comes.

And then with each subsequent draft or pass at it, I start reading the poem out loud and tweaking it, making edits, moving and changing things while crafting lines that frame and build the story. I read the piece aloud over and over and over again until the poem tells me when I’ve got it right. I don’t know how, but my ear will tell me when it’s done and right with my spirit.

What is poetic ethnography?

Ethnography is an area of anthropology. From the Greek word “ethnos,” ethno simply means people or culture, and graphy, from the Greek word “graphia,” is the writing about said people or culture.

Traditional ethnographies are usually written in a diarylike journal form. You end up jotting things down – thoughts, feelings, expressions, verbatim texts from interview participants – alongside bits and pieces of theory that correlate. Field notes are a combination of prose and scientific inquiry. I am a proponent of compiling poetic ethnographies – turning my observation and investigation of cultures, communities, and my field notes, into poetic form.

Growing up in Philadelphia and a product of Philadelphia public schools, my primary language is mainstream U.S. English, but I tell people that my actual language is poetry. I see the world through poetry, and through the medium of poetry, I think I am better able to articulate the world I see.

Read more of our stories about Philadelphia.

Kimmika Williams-Witherspoon has received funding from Lumena Foundation’s Fund for Racial Justice and Equity (2018-19) and PEW Charitable Trusts Arts Grant (2020).

Joseph V. Labolito owns the copyright to Philadelphia Collections. Philadelphia Collections research and operations is supported and partially funded by the Bridge award; an internal grant provided by the Office of the Vice President for Research (OVPR) at Temple University for the 2024 – 2025 year.

– ref. A portrait taken in North Philly in the 1980s reconnects poet with cherished memories of her own beloved father – https://theconversation.com/a-portrait-taken-in-north-philly-in-the-1980s-reconnects-poet-with-cherished-memories-of-her-own-beloved-father-255810

Source: – By Jose Valentino Ruiz, Associate Professsor of Music Business and Entrepreneurship, University of Florida

In the fall of 1971, Sly and the Family Stone’s “There’s a Riot Goin’ On” landed like a quiet revolution. After two years of silence following the band’s mainstream success, fans expected more feel-good funk from the ensemble.

What they got instead was something murkier and more fractured, yet deeply intimate and experimental. This was not just an album; it was the sound of a restless mind rebuilding music from the inside out.

At the center of it all was front man Sly Stone.

Long before the home studio became an industry norm, Stone, who died on June 9, 2025, turned the studio into both a sanctuary and an instrument. And long before sampling defined the sound of hip-hop, he was using tape and machine rhythms to deconstruct existing songs to cobble together new ones.

As someone who spends much of their time working on remote recording and audio production – from building full arrangements solo to collaborating digitally across continents – I’m deeply indebted to Sly Stone’s approach to making music.

He was among the first major artists to fully embrace the recording environment as a space to compose rather than perform. Every reverb bounce, every drum machine tick, every overdubbed breath became part of the writing process.

From studio rat to bedroom producer

Sly and the Family Stone’s early albums – including “Dance to the Music” and “Stand!” – were recorded at top-tier facilities like CBS Studios in Los Angeles under the technical guidance of engineers such as Don Puluse and with oversight from producer David Rubinson.

These sessions yielded bright, radio-friendly tracks that emphasized tight horn sections, group vocals and a polished sound. Producers also prized the energy of live performance, so the full band would record together in real time.

But by the early 1970s, Stone was burnt out. The dual pressures of fame and industry demands were becoming too much. Struggling with cocaine and PCP addiction, he’d grown increasingly distrustful of bandmates, label executives and even his friends.

So he decided to retreat to his hillside mansion in Bel Air, California, transforming his home into a musical bunker. Inside, he could work on his own terms: isolated and erratic, but free.

Without a full band present, Stone became a one-man ensemble. He leaned heavily into overdubbing – recording one instrument at a time and building his songs from fragments. Using multiple tape machines, he’d layer each part onto previous takes.

The resulting album, “There’s a Riot Goin’ On,” was like nothing he’d previously recorded. It sounds murky, jagged and disjointed. But it’s also deeply intentional, as if every imperfection was part of the design.

In “The Poetics of Rock,” musicologist Albin Zak describes this “composerly” approach to production, where recording itself becomes a form of writing, not just documentation. Stone’s process for “There’s a Riot Goin’ On” reflects this mindset: Each overdub, rhythm loop and sonic imperfection functions more like a brushstroke than a performance.

Automating the groove

A key part of Stone’s tool kit was the Maestro Rhythm King, a preset drum machine he used extensively.

It wasn’t the first rhythm box on the market. But Stone’s use of it was arguably the first time such a machine shaped the entire aesthetic of a mainstream album. The drum parts on his track “Family Affair,” for example, don’t swing – they tick. What might have been viewed as soulless became its own kind of soul.

This early embrace of mechanical rhythm prefigured what would later become a foundation of hip-hop and electronic music. In his book “Dawn of the DAW,” music technology scholar Adam Patrick Bell calls this shift “a redefinition of groove,” noting how drum machines like the Rhythm King encouraged musicians to rethink their songwriting process, building tracks in shorter, repeatable sections while emphasizing steady, looped rhythms rather than free-flowing performances.

Though samplers wouldn’t emerge until years later, Stone’s work already contained that repetition, layering and loop-based construction that would become characteristic of the practice.

He recorded his own parts the way future DJs would splice records – isolated, reshuffled, rhythmically obsessed. His overdubbed bass lines, keyboard vamps and vocal murmurs often sounded like puzzle pieces from other songs.

Music scholar Will Fulton, in his study of Black studio innovation, notes how producers like Stone helped pioneer a fragment-based approach to music-making that would become central to hip-hop’s DNA. Stone’s process anticipated the mentality that a song isn’t necessarily something written top to bottom, but something assembled, brick by brick, from what’s available.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Stone’s tracks have been sampled relentlessly. In “Bring That Beat Back,” music critic Nate Patrin identifies Stone as one of the most sample-friendly artists of the 1970s – not because of his commercial hits, but because of how much sonic space he left in his tracks: the open-ended grooves, unusual textures and slippery emotional tone.

You can hear his sounds in famous tracks such as 2Pac’s “If My Homie Calls,” which samples “Sing a Simple Song”; A Tribe Called Quest’s “The Jam,” which draws from “Family Affair”; and De La Soul’s “Plug Tunin’,” which flips “You Can Make It If You Try.”

The studio as instrument

While Sly’s approach was groundbreaking, he wasn’t entirely alone. Around the same time, artists such as Brian Wilson and The Rolling Stones were experimenting with home and nontraditional recording environments – Wilson famously retreating to his home studio during “Pet Sounds,” and the Stones tracking “Exile on Main St.” in a French villa.

Yet in the world of Black music, production remained largely centralized in institutionally controlled studio systems such as Motown in Detroit and Stax in Memphis, where sound was tightly managed by in-house producers and engineers. In that context, Stone’s decision to isolate, self-produce and dismantle the standard workflow was more than a technical choice: It was a radical act of autonomy.

The rise of home recording didn’t just change who could make music. It changed what music felt like. It made music more internal, iterative and intimate.

Sly Stone helped invent that feeling.

It’s easy to hear “There’s a Riot Goin’ On” as murky or uneven. The mix is dense with tape hiss, drum machines drift in and out of sync, and vocals often feel buried or half-whispered.

But it’s also, in a way, prophetic.

It anticipated the aesthetics of bedroom pop, the cut-and-paste style of modern music software, the shuffle of playlists and the recycling of sounds that defines sample culture. It showed that a groove didn’t need to be spontaneous to be soulful, and that solitude could be a powerful creative tool, not a limitation.

In my own practice, I often record alone, passing files back and forth, building from templates and mapping rhythm to grid – as do millions of musical artists who compose tracks from their bedrooms, closets and garages.

Half a century ago, a funk pioneer led the way. I think it’s safe to say that Sly Stone quietly changed the process of making music forever – and in the funkiest way possible.

Jose Valentino Ruiz does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Sly Stone turned isolation into inspiration, forging a path for a generation of music-makers – https://theconversation.com/sly-stone-turned-isolation-into-inspiration-forging-a-path-for-a-generation-of-music-makers-258659

Source: – By Elizabeth Wolfson, Assistant Director of Campus Partnerships for the Office of Public Scholarship, Washington University in St. Louis

Artist, illustrator and writer Edward Gorey would have turned 100 this year, and the recently published “From Ted to Tom: The Illustrated Envelopes of Edward Gorey” is a fitting celebration of his wit and talent.

The book reproduces, in stunning detail, a series of 50 elaborately illustrated envelopes Gorey created in the mid-1970s. But when I started reading “From Ted to Tom,” I felt confused – and a little let down.

The book makes no mention of Gorey’s queerness. To me, this is a missed opportunity to shed light on how being gay may have fueled some of his most personal work.

The master of macabre

Today, Edward Gorey is widely known for his sprawling, macabre-yet-humorous body of work, which spans nearly every medium.

There are dozens of his own books, notably “The Doubtful Guest” and “The Gashlycrumb Tinies,” as well as cover designs for many others; sets and costumes for the 1977 Tony Award-winning revival of Bram Stoker’s “Dracula”; the opening credit sequence for the PBS television series “Mystery!”; “The Fantod Pack,” a deck of Tarot-like cards; and hand-sewn, surrealist dolls.

His stories often feature adults and children alike who meet untimely ends through mostly hilarious, unlikely accidents – and, yes, the occasional straight-up murder. But they’re never gratuitous, nor do they glorify violence for violence’s sake.

As for his personal life, Gorey may have been what today we’d call asexual; Gorey himself used the term “undersexed,” but he also acknowledged, when asked directly about his sexuality, that he “supposed” he was gay.

Mark Dery’s 2018 Gorey biography, “Born to be Posthumous: The Eccentric Life and Mysterious Genius of Edward Gorey,” documents the artist’s participation in postwar gay life. The book details a handful of crushes Gorey had on various men, at least one of which – a brief affair with a man named Victor – involved some physical intimacy.

To whatever extent Gorey entertained sex or romance, it was with men. As Dery points out, however, this fact largely goes unaddressed in discussions of the artist’s work.

A chance encounter

“From Ted to Tom” reinforces this silence.

The “Tom” is Tom Fitzharris, the author of the book’s introduction and some commentary at the book’s end.

In the introduction, Fitzharris explains that before he met Gorey, he was already collecting the artist’s “small, exquisite books.”

After attending a gallery exhibit of Gorey’s work in 1974, Fitzharris mailed him one of the books from his collection to request Gorey’s signature, along with a cryptic inquiry about two of the book’s characters. Gorey obliged and returned the book with a similarly cryptic reply.

Soon after this exchange, Fitzharris spotted Gorey on the street and introduced himself. The two soon began meeting regularly “for dinner, the theater, coffee, and especially the ballet, his great passion,” one that Fitzharris shared. When Gorey left to summer on Cape Cod, he began sending Fitzharris the envelopes collected in “From Ted to Tom.”

Fitzharris shares almost no information about himself in the book, and he has never commented publicly about his own sexuality. However, even his dry, minimalist narration cannot conceal the intensity of their connection.

Describing his first visit to Gorey’s apartment, he writes: “I thought I’d be at Gorey’s for ten minutes, but I left two hours later.” Whether Fitzharris lost track of time as the two explored their “dozens of shared interests” or simply couldn’t tear himself away, when he finally made it back to work, he was surprised that he still had a job.

The envelope as canvas

Given this voracious drive to create, it is no surprise that Gorey saw an object as humble as a letter envelope as a creative opportunity. As Dery points out, Gorey was also making his illustrated envelopes as the mail art movement was becoming popular. Sparked by artist Ray Johnson in the 1960s – who, like Gorey, lived in New York City – it involved artists using the postal service to exchange works of art, using it as an alternative to the commercial galleries and museums that artists had largely depended on.

The 50 envelopes reproduced in “From Ted to Tom” was not Gorey’s first dalliance with the envelope as canvas; he’d experimented with it six years earlier, while in the midst of a collaboration with author and editor Peter Neumeyer, with whom he produced three children’s books.

In his drawings to Neumeyer, Gorey mostly seems to be having fun playing around with a new formal challenge: how to integrate drawings with the prerequisite address text in a satisfying way.

Because I study how people use images to make sense of the world, I couldn’t help but notice key differences between the Neumeyer envelopes and those that Gorey sent to Fitzharris.

The Fitzharris series is poised and polished from the jump. Gorey’s distinctive hand-lettering is crisp, precise and perfectly straight, each envelope a complete scene. Some scenes are more complex than others, but each is a complete thought.

There’s another notable difference between the Neumeyer and Fitzharris envelopes. While the former features a revolving cast of real and imaginary creatures, the latter has two co-stars: two black-and-white dogs, sides emblazoned with matching, serifed T’s.

In his introduction to the book, Fitzharris confirms that the animals represent Gorey and him. Fitzharris is also clearly more than the lucky witness to a burst of creative genius. He is its muse.

‘Pen pal’ or something more?

Whatever Gorey’s artistic ambitions for the project, it is also a visual diary of sorts: an album of their shared experiences, their common interests and hobbies, and a document of Gorey’s goings-on while they were apart.

Take, for example, an envelope that depicts the canine duo standing amid a vast assemblage of blue bottles, with Fitzharris’ address displayed as labels.

“All the blue bottles are a recollection of a window full of them in one of the antique shops I stopped in after you left that Sunday,” Gorey wrote in the accompanying letter. “The sun coming through them is not reproducible, at least by me.”

In the same letter, Gorey struggles to convey the depth of his feeling upon receiving a recent letter from Fitzharris.

“I used to maintain that if it couldn’t be put into words it didn’t exist; if anything I believe rather the opposite now. All of which is rather a strangled attempt to say that I appreciated your letter of the 23rd very much, but that I don’t know how to say so directly. Yes.”

What did Fitzharris’ letter say that moved Gorey so much? What is the meaning of his singular, elliptical “yes”? Is it simply stylistic? Or is it a response?

We’ll likely never know. But evidently whatever Fitzharris said moved him deeply.

There are other poignant scenes. In his notes to “From Ted to Tom,” Fitzharris takes credit for introducing Gorey to the French phrase “heure bleue,” which translates to “the blue hour” and refers to the time of day just after the sun sets. Gorey’s delight is reflected in a lovely scene of quiet companionship.

Tom and Ted stand at a low fence or porch railing, sharing drinks and gazing up at a darkening sky as dusk settles over thick foliage. For once leaving nothing to the imagination, he inscribes “HEURE BLEUE” next to the image in thick, bold letters – a rare act of captioning.

This unusual relative directness continues into the accompanying letter. Though he can hardly bear admitting it, Gorey describes their recent visit as “a happy day,” immediately qualifying the comment as a “revolting phrase.”

One “cannot help but think how seldom in life one knows one is having one at the time,” he continues. The phrasing is somewhat innocuous. But I wonder how much pleasure Gorey must have felt – and how strong his need to convey it must have been – to overcome the force of his “revulsion.”

This push and pull between attraction to one another and repulsion at one’s own spontaneous emotion supplies the dynamism that make the drawings in “From Ted to Tom” so compelling.

Despite this powerful current, Fitzharris, who is credited as the book’s editor, leaves the topic of Gorey’s sexuality untouched in both his introduction to the book and its end notes, where he provides a guide to some of the personal and cultural references in Gorey’s drawings and letters. The book’s back cover refers to Fitzharris as the artist’s “pen pal.”

Denied access to the underlying details driving this dynamism, the reader loses the chance to reflect on the source of this electrical current, its impact on his art, and how Gorey’s struggles with intimacy and desire, which are all too universal, were also undoubtedly shaped by the challenge of being gay in a deeply homophobic society.

Rather than limiting the understanding of his work, accounting for Gorey’s queerness invites viewers of his art and readers of his work into deeper communion with the artist – and themselves.

Elizabeth Wolfson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. A new book of Edward Gorey’s drawings shows what’s lost when the artist’s sexuality is glossed over – https://theconversation.com/a-new-book-of-edward-goreys-drawings-shows-whats-lost-when-the-artists-sexuality-is-glossed-over-257938

Source: – By Jared Bahir Browsh, Assistant Teaching Professor of Critical Sports Studies, University of Colorado Boulder

“Da, duh.”

Two simple notes – E and F – have become synonymous with tension, fear and sharks, representing the primal dread of being stalked by a predator.

And they largely have “Jaws” to thank.

Fifty years ago, Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster film – along with its spooky score composed by John Williams – convinced generations of swimmers to think twice before going in the water.

As a scholar of media history and popular culture, I decided to take a deeper dive into the staying power of these two notes and learned about how they’re influenced by 19th-century classical music, Mickey Mouse and Alfred Hitchcock.

The first summer blockbuster

In 1964, fisherman Frank Mundus killed a 4,500-pound great white shark off Long Island.

After hearing the story, freelance journalist Peter Benchley began pitching a novel based on three men’s attempt to capture a man-eating shark, basing the character of Quint off of Mundus. Doubleday commissioned Benchley to write the novel, and in 1973, Universal Studios producers Richard D. Zanuck and David Brown purchased the film rights to the novel before it was published. The 26-year-old Spielberg was signed on to be the director.

Tapping into both mythical and real fears regarding great white sharks – including an infamous set of shark attacks along the Jersey Shore in 1916 – Benchley’s 1974 novel became a bestseller. The book was a key part of Universal’s marketing campaign, which began several months before the film’s release.

Starting in the fall of 1974, Zanuck, Brown and Benchley appeared on a number of radio and television programs to simultaneously promote the release of the paperback edition of the novel and the upcoming film. The marketing also included a national television advertising campaign that featured emerging composer Williams’ two-note theme. The plan was for a summer release, which, at the time, was reserved for films with less than stellar reviews.

Films at the time typically were released market by market, preceded by local reviews. However, Universal’s decision to release the film in hundreds of theaters across the country on June 20, 1975, led to huge up-front profits, sparking a 14-week run as the No. 1 film in the U.S.

Many consider “Jaws” the first true summer blockbuster. It catapulted Spielberg to fame and kicked off the director’s long collaboration with Williams, who would go on to earn the second-highest number of Academy Award nominations in history – 54 – behind only Walt Disney’s 59.

The film’s beating heart

Though it’s now considered one of the greatest scores in film history, when Williams proposed the two-note theme, Spielberg initially thought it was a joke.

But Williams had been inspired by 19th and 20th century composers, including Claude Debussy, Igor Stravinsky and especially Antonin Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9, “From the New World.” In the “Jaws” theme, you can hear echoes of the end of Dvorak’s symphony, as well as the sounds of another character-driven musical piece, Sergei Prokofiev’s “Peter and the Wolf.”

“Peter and the Wolf” and the score from “Jaws” are both prime examples of leitmotifs, or a musical piece that represents a place or character.

The varying pace of the ostinato – a musical motif that repeats itself – elicits intensifying degrees of emotion and fear. This became more integral as Spielberg and the technical team struggled with the malfunctioning pneumatic sharks that they’d nicknamed “Bruce,” after Spielberg’s lawyer.

As a result, the shark does not appear until the 81-minute mark of the 124-minute film. But its presence is felt through Williams’ theme, which some music scholars have theorized evoke the shark’s heartbeat.

Sounds to manipulate emotions

Williams also has Disney to thank for revolutionizing character-driven music in film.

The two don’t just share a brimming trophy case. They also understood how music can heighten emotion and magnify action for audiences.

Although his career started in the silent film era, Disney became a titan of film, and later media, by leveraging sound to establish one of the greatest stars in media history, Mickey Mouse.

When Disney saw “The Jazz Singer” in 1927, he knew that sound would be the future of film.

On Nov. 18, 1928, “Steamboat Willie” premiered at Universal’s Colony Theater in New York City as Disney’s first animated film to incorporate synchronized sound.

Unlike previous attempts to bring sound to film by having record players concurrently play or deploying live musicians to perform in the theater, Disney used technology that recorded sound directly on the film reel.

It wasn’t the first animated film with synchronized sound, but it was a technical improvement to previous attempts at it, and “Steamboat Willie” became an international hit, launching Mickey’s – and Disney’s – career.

The use of music or sound to match the rhythm of the characters on screen became known as “Mickey Mousing.”

“King Kong” in 1933 would deftly deploy Mickey Mousing in a live action film, with music mimicking the giant gorilla’s movements. For example, in one scene, Kong carries away Ann Darrow, who’s played by actress Fay Wray. Composer Max Steiner uses lighter tones to convey Kong’s curiosity as he holds Ann, followed by ominous, faster, tones as Ann escapes and Kong chases after her. In doing so, Steiner encourages viewers to both fear and connect with the beast throughout the film, helping them suspend disbelief and enter a world of fantasy.

Mickey Mousing declined in popularity after World War II. Many filmmakers saw it as juvenile and too simplistic for the evolving and advancing film industry.

When less is more

In spite of this criticism, the technique was still used to score some iconic scenes, like the playing of violins in the shower as Marion Crane is stabbed in Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho.”

Spielberg idolized Hitchcock. A young Spielberg was even kicked off the Universal lot after sneaking on to watch the production of Hitchcock’s 1966 film “Torn Curtain.”

Although Hitchcock and Spielberg never met, “Jaws” clearly exhibits the influence of Hitchcock, the “Master of Suspense.” And maybe that’s why Spielberg initially overcame his doubts about using something so simple to represent tension in the thriller.

The use of the two-note motif helped overcome the production issues Spielberg faced directing the first feature length movie to be filmed on the ocean. The malfunctioning animatronic shark forced Spielberg to leverage Williams’ minimalist theme to represent the shark’s ominous presence in spite of the limited appearances by the eponymous predatory star.

As Williams continued his legendary career, he would deploy a similar sonic motif for certain “Star Wars” characters. Each time Darth Vader appeared, the “Imperial March” was played to set the tone for the leader of the dark side.

As movie budgets creep closer to a half-billion dollars, the “Jaws” theme – and the way those two notes manipulate tension – is a reminder that in film, sometimes less can be more.

Jared Bahir Browsh does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. ‘Jaws’ and the two musical notes that changed Hollywood forever – https://theconversation.com/jaws-and-the-two-musical-notes-that-changed-hollywood-forever-255379

Source: – By Sean Lawrence, Assistant Professor of History, West Virginia University

When you think about ticks, you might picture nightmarish little parasites, stalking you on weekend hikes or afternoons in the park.

Your fear is well-founded. Tick-borne diseases are the most prevalent vector-borne diseases – those transmitted by living organisms – in the United States. Each tick feeds on multiple animals throughout its life, absorbing viruses and bacteria along the way and passing them on with its next bite. Some of those viruses and bacteria are harmful to humans, causing diseases that can be debilitating and sometimes lethal without treatment, such as Lyme, babesiosis and Rocky Mountain spotted fever.

But contained in every bite of this infuriating, insatiable pest is also a trove of social, environmental and epidemiological history.

In many cases, human actions long ago are the reason ticks carry these diseases so widely today. And that’s what makes ticks fascinating for environmental historians like me.

Changing forests fueled tick risks

During the 18th and 19th centuries, settlers cleared more than half the forested land across the northeastern U.S., cutting down forests for timber and to make way for farms, towns and mining operations. With large-scale land clearing came a sharp decline in wildlife of all kinds. Predators such as bears and wolves were driven out, as were deer.

As farming moved westward, Northeasterners began to recognize the ecological and economic value of trees, and they returned millions of acres to forest.

The woods regrew. Plant-eaters such as deer returned, but the apex predators that once kept their populations in check did not.

As a result, deer populations grew rapidly. With the deer came deer ticks (Ixodes scapularis) carrying borrelia burgdorferi, the bacterium that causes Lyme disease. When a tick feeds on an infected animal, it can take up the bacteria. The tick can pass the bacteria to its next victim. In humans, Lyme disease can cause fever and fatigue, and if left untreated it can affect the nervous system.

The eastern U.S. became a global hot spot for tick-borne Lyme disease starting around the 1970s. Lyme disease affected over 89,000 Americans in 2023, and possibly many more.

Californians move into tick territory

For centuries, changing patterns of human settlements and the politics of land use have shaped the role of ticks and tick-borne illnesses within their environments.

In short, humans have made it easier for ticks to thrive and spread disease in our midst.

In California, the Northern Inner Coast and Santa Cruz mountain ranges that converge on San Francisco from the north and south were never clear-cut, and predators such as mountain lions and coyotes still exist there. But competition for housing has pushed human settlement deeper into wildland areas to the north, south and east of the city, reshaping tick ecology there.

While western black-legged ticks (Ixodes pacificus) tend to swarm in large forest preserves, the Lyme-causing bacterium is actually more prevalent in small, isolated patches of greenery. In these isolated patches, rodents and other tick hosts can thrive, safe from large predators, which need more habitat to move freely. But isolation and lower diversity also means infections are spread more easily within the tick’s host populations.

People tend to build isolated houses in the hills, rather than large, connected developments. As the Silicon Valley area south of San Francisco sprawls outward, this checkerboard pattern of settlement has fragmented the natural landscape, creating a hard-to-manage public health threat.

Fewer hosts, more tightly packed, often means more infected hosts, proportionally, and thus more dangerous ticks.

Six counties across these ranges, all surrounding and including San Francisco, account for 44% of recorded tick-borne illnesses in California.

A lesson from Texas cattle ranches

Domesticated livestock have also shaped the disease threat posed by ticks.

In 1892, at a meeting of cattle ranchers at the Stock Raiser’s Convention in Austin, Texas, Dr. B.A. Rogers introduced a novel theory that ticks were behind recent devastating plagues of Texas cattle fever. The disease had arrived with cattle imported from the West Indies and Mexico in the 1600s, and it was taking huge tolls on cattle herds. But how the disease spread to new victims had been a mystery.

Editors of Daniel’s Texas Medical Journal found the idea of ticks spreading disease laughable and lampooned the hypothesis, publishing a satire of what they described as an “early copy” of a forthcoming report on the subject.

The tick’s “fluid secretion, it is believed, is the poison which causes the fever … [and the tick] having been known to chew tobacco, as all other Texans do, the secretion is most probably tobacco juice,” they wrote.

Fortunately for the ranchers, not to mention the cows, the U.S. Department of Agriculture sided with Rogers. Its cattle fever tick program, started in 1906, curbed cattle fever outbreaks by limiting where and when cattle should cross tick-dense areas.

By 1938, the government had established a quarantine zone that extended 580 miles by 10 miles along the U.S.-Mexico border in South Texas Brush Country, a region favored by the cattle tick.

This innovative use of natural space as a public health tool helped to functionally eradicate cattle fever from 14 Southern states by 1943.

Ticks are products of their environment

When it comes to tick-borne diseases the world over, location matters.

Take the hunter tick (Hyalomma spp.) of the Mediterranean and Asia. As a juvenile, or nymph, these ticks feed on small forest animals such as mice, hares and voles, but as an adult they prefer domesticated livestock.

For centuries, this tick was an occasional nuisance to nomadic shepherds of the Middle East. But in the 1850s, the Ottoman Empire passed laws to force nomadic tribes to become settled farmers instead. Unclaimed lands, especially on the forested edges of the steppe, were offered to settlers, creating ideal conditions for hunter ticks.

As a result, farmers in what today is Turkey saw spikes in tick-borne diseases, including a virus that causes Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever, a potentially fatal condition.

It’s probably too much to ask for sympathy for any ticks you meet this summer. They are bloodsucking parasites, after all.

Still, it’s worth remembering that the tick’s malevolence isn’t its own fault. Ticks are products of their environment, and humans have played many roles in turning them into the harmful parasites that seek us out today.

This article has been updated to clarify that ticks spread alongside the deer population.

Sean Lawrence has nothing to disclose.

– ref. Ticks carry decades of history in each troublesome bite – https://theconversation.com/ticks-carry-decades-of-history-in-each-troublesome-bite-257110