The, Uranium Seekers, saga began in 1976 when world-famous Hollywood, California photographer, Martin, was contracted to come to Utah and begin documenting, paying photographic tribute to, uranium miners, native Americans, and the Vanadium King uranium and vanadium mines on Temple Mountain, Emery County, Utah. The essence of the project was to pay tribute to the persons who traversed Zane Grey's and John Ford's great western expanse in search of uranium ore, one rock at a time, from before Madame Curies trips to the, then, present, and to remind the world's public that uranium was, and still is, used to kill, not humanity, rather cancer. I harbored the hope that by going back to the first uranium rocks the nuclear industry would re-evaluate the physical structure of nuclear reactors, one cubic yard at a time. Nuclear reactors, when built, witness Fukushima Daiichi, are still being created with too much haste. Like the uranium miners themselves, it's the hands of the humanity who cast the cement forms in which the reactors rest which determines safety. I also, rather naively, hoped when uranium's harmonous utilization was embraced its destructive military reality, throughout the world, would melt. Even with the support of the fine Beverly Hills, California literary agent, Clyde M. Vandeburg of Vandeburg-Linkletter Associates who represented Ronald and Nancy Reagan, Barry Goldwater, and many others at the time, the national and international events at Three-Mile Island and Chernobyl put Uranium Seekers and Martins great photographs to bed for decades. However, recently I learned the Utah Historical Quarterly Unpublished Manuscripts from the Department of Community and Culture at the Utah State Archives had harbored some of the manuscript material for decades and the recent events at Fukushima Daiichi made uranium part of the international conversation once again, I decided to dust off Martin's work and snatches of the original material for Uranium Seekers.

The, Uranium Seekers, saga began in 1976 when world-famous Hollywood, California photographer, Martin, was contracted to come to Utah and begin documenting, paying photographic tribute to, uranium miners, native Americans, and the Vanadium King uranium and vanadium mines on Temple Mountain, Emery County, Utah. The essence of the project was to pay tribute to the persons who traversed Zane Greys and John Fords great western expanse in search of uranium ore, one rock at a time, from before Madame Curies trips to the, then, present, and to remind the worlds public that uranium was, and still is, used to kill, not humanity, rather cancer. I harbored the hope that by going back to the first uranium rocks the nuclear industry would re-evaluate the physical structure of nuclear reactors, one cubic yard at a time. Nuclear reactors, when built, witness Fukushima Daiichi, are still being created with too much haste. Like the uranium miners themselves, its the hands of the humanity who cast the cement forms in which the reactors rest which determines safety. I also, rather naively, hoped when uraniums harmonous utilization was embraced its destructive military reality, throughout the world, would melt. Even with the support of the fine Beverly Hills, California literary agent, Clyde M. Vandeburg of Vandeburg-Linkletter Associates who represented Ronald and Nancy Reagan, Barry Goldwater, and many others at the time, the national and international events at Three-Mile Island and Chernobyl put Uranium Seekers and Martins great photographs to bed for decades. However, recently I learned the Utah Historical Quarterly Unpublished Manuscripts from the Department of Community and Culture at the Utah State Archives had harbored some of the manuscript material for decades and the recent events at Fukushima Daiichi made uranium part of the international conversation once again, I decided to dust off Martins work and snatches of the original material for Uranium Seekers.

A history of the powerful mineral element explores its role as a virtually limitless energy source, its controversial applications as a healing tool and weapon, and the ways in which its reputation has been used to promote war agendas in the middle east.

A history of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission’s need for uranium ore in the 1950s, the frenzied search, and the aftermath. Now expanded to include the story of nuclear testing and its consequences, UraniumFrenzy has become the classic account of the uranium rush that gripped the Colorado Plateau region in the 1950s. Instigated by the U.S. government’s need for uranium to fuel its growing atomic weapons program, stimulated by Charlie Steen’s lucrative Mi Vida strike in 1952, manned by rookie prospectors from all walks of life, and driven to a fever pitch by penny stock promotions, the boom created a colorful era in the Four Corners region and Salt Lake City (where the stock frenzy was centered) but ultimately went bust. The thrill of those exciting times and the good fortune of some of the miners were countered by the darker aspects of uranium and its uses. Miners were not well informed regarding the dangers of radioactive decay products. Neither the government nor anyone else expended much effort educating them or protecting their health and safety. The effects of exposure to radiation in poorly ventilated mines appeared over time. The uranium boom is only part of the larger story of atomic weapons testing and its impact in the western United States. Nuclear explosions at the Nevada Test Site not only spurred uranium mining, they also had a disastrous impact on many Americans: downwinders in the eastward path of radiation clouds, military observers and guinea pigs in exposed positions, and Navajo and other uranium mill workers all became victims, as deaths from cancer and other radiation-caused diseases reached much higher than normal rates among them. Tons of radioactive waste left by mines, mills, and the nuclear industry and how to dispose of them are other nagging legacies of the nuclear era. Recent decades have brought multiple attempts by victims to obtain compensation from the federal government and other legal battles over disposal of nuclear waste. When courts refused to grant relief to downwinders and others, Congress eventually interceded and legislated compensation for a limited number of victims able to meet strict criteria, but did not adequately fund the program. Recently, Congress attempted to fix this shortfall, but in the meantime many downwinders and others holding compensation IOUs had died. Congressional and other efforts to dispose of waste have lately focused on Nevada and Utah, two states all too familiar with nuclear issues and reluctant to take on further radioactive burdens. “In a perceptive and touching narrative, Ringholz (The Wilderness Handbook) recalls that the Federal government in the early 1950s subsidized uranium mining for the coming atomic age. . . . Ringholz intrigues the reader with an expert blending of science, adventure, industry mania, finance, human triumph and despair and shameful official neglect.” —Publishers Weekly “The frenzied search for a reliable domestic source of uranium ore needed by the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission in the 1950s is the subject of Ringholz's breezy narrative, which is populated with colorful characters. . . . This is good popular reading for general collections in public libraries.” —Library Journal