By Spencer Hayes, with audio
The elected officials gave the township only 24-hour notice. They delineated the plan at a press conference to the small but feisty babel of reporters on the town hall beat, to the all-seeing cameras. The front-and-center spokesman addressed the crowd in an unnerved tenor, fielded questions.
By Jen McConnell
It wasn’t just me. October 17, 1989, was burned into the collective consciousness of Northern California in a matter of seconds. I was at the beginning of a piano lesson with Brian Wu, a third-year student of immense talent and sloppy habits, when it happened.
By Michael McGuire
It had been Saturday, his day to ride the horse into the mountain. If there was one thing he didn’t want to hear, it was a truck grinding up out of the one ranch that remained. He’d listened ten minutes before the logs appeared.