Daniel Lucas Stern - Producer

Growing up, I was always enthralled by stories of the dangers and rewards of commercial fishing in Alaska. Be it those adolescent dreams of adventure, survival, camaraderie, and riches, or my post-college wonderment of a career choice I never quite pulled the trigger on. Needless, to say you can imagine the excitement and anticipation my peers and I enjoyed as we prepared to make our way to Bristol Bay, Alaska for the 2006 sockeye salmon season.

In late June, much to the envy of many of our friends and family, the crew and I made our way to the Alaska Peninsula for an adventure that promised to be priceless. Flying into Alaska, high above the tallest, steepest, snow covered peaks I’d ever seen, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was truly going to a completely new, unspoiled world that I was previously unfamiliar with. I had known places like this must exist, but had never been fortunate enough to experience one first hand. I quickly got the feeling that many of the people we met up there, from the natives to the seasonal fishermen and workers from the lower forty eight, knew this and carried with them a sort of friendly, “I told you so” demeanor.

The crew and I lodged at Peter Pan Seafoods’ base camp in Naknek. We shared a bunkhouse primarily with a group of older, Italian-American fishermen, who didn’t initially trust the idea of us “Hollywood types” depicting their industry honestly and accurately. Their welcome wagon was complete with verbal confrontations and a not-so-cryptic “Don’t F%*k With Fishermen” sign on our window. But, after long conversations, shared experiences, the realization that we weren’t in fact, from Hollywood, and a little peace-offering in the form of Bourbon, the two groups not only made peace but came to rather enjoy one another during downtime.

It was this sort of camaraderie that would lead to the success of this venture in many ways. Convincing fishermen to board their vessels with cameras, sound gear, and a boom pole wind screen that was described by one captain as a large feminine-hygiene device, all in the midst of the hectic madness of Bristol Bay’s “combat-style fishing” is no easy task. And the fishing proved to be as intense and unique as advertised. Captains screaming at one another, ramming each other’s boats while attempting to get in the best position, and sometimes even throwing objects at each other are all par for the course in the close-quartered Naknek River mouth.

From my first day on the boat, trying desperately to gain my sea legs, but failing miserably (off the side of the boat; not me, but my lunch), to the many days of fishing, filming, and eating wild sockeye that came out of the water five minutes before, to our last day of shooting and saying goodbye to the friends we’d made, this was one experience I will never forget, always cherish, and with any luck, be able to repeat. It’s no wonder so many people from all walks of life come to places like Naknek, Egegik, and Dillingham year after year to fish!

Watch a Clip of Cowboys of the Sea

Jeremy Garrett - Art Director

When designing a logo and show package, it’s always vital to find out as much as possible about the show before starting the creative process. Strategy briefs or rough/finished copies of the shows are very helpful. In this mini-series, Planet Carnivore consists of four different one-hour shows, with four different animals and locations. Each show revolves around apex predators and how they survive in their fragile environment.

Our challenge was creating a common thread between four different show logos and show opens. We solved this challenge using an interchangeable logo where the subtitle could be easily swapped out. Each of the animals has a certain attitude and demeanor that I wanted to capture; so I chose a font that was clean and bold. I modified the font by adding weight to the subtitle word and adding an additional bar to the letter “A.”

The animation in all four-show opens remained exactly the same. Each show open captured the environment in which the apex predator lives. For example, Planet Carnivore: Sharks open had an underwater tone. The Planet Carnivore: Lions open looked like the logo lived on the African plains. Another key component to the open animations was the audio. Each open had the same eerie music accompanied by the specific sound of that animal. This helped reinforce the graphics and help set a mood for the show to come.

All of the logos were designed in Adobe Illustrator. Once they were approved, I moved to Adobe After Effects to do all of the compositing, effects and animation. For Sharks, I used different filters to create the water and small bubbles for the illusion of water. In Lions, I used a compilation of footage and stills to create the African plains. We had B-roll of tall grass from the shot. I duplicated it many times in 3-D space to create the illusion of a large wide shot of a field. The clouds, foreground and background trees were still photographs used to create a sense of depth.

Effective communication through a strong concept is the key to a successful design. Creating something from nothing and writing a story without words is what great motion design is all about.

Dr. Brady Barr - National Geographic Reptile Expert

Have you ever felt like you were in the belly of the beast? Well I sure have, and I actually got to experience it on a recent expedition to Tanzania. I’m a scientist whose research involves capturing wild crocodiles, a very dangerous pursuit not only for me but also for the crocs. Subduing crocodiles is extremely stressful to the animal, so I am always looking for alternatives to this “hands-on” approach. Not long ago I was speaking to a group of children and explaining to them what I do and one small boy raised his hand and said, “Dr. Brady why don’t you dress up as a crocodile and just join their club?” I laughed and continued my lecture, yet couldn’t shake this crazy idea form the back of my mind. Could it actually work? There was only one way to find out.

I had the engineers at National Geographic build me an incredibly life-like crocodile disguise, for my venture into the reptilian world. The “croc suit” consisted of a protective metal cage covered by a Kevlar shield, and topped off with a life like latex cape. It really looked like a croc – and it better because the plan was for me to wear the suit and crawl up to a group of basking wild crocs, close enough to attach a scientific device to their backs! This is a procedure that normally requires me to rope a croc and then wrestle it in into submission. This was a bold and scary experiment.

A few months later on a stifling hot African day, I found myself in the country of Tanzania with a fellow scientist, a bunch of big wild crocs, and of course the “croc suit”. Today was the big day…deployment day. The temperature was well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, as I started to contort my body into the tight confines of the suit. The thermometer I had mounted inside the suit read 120 degrees; I might cook in this oven if this procedure took too long. My heart raced as I thought about the large number of dangerous crocs a short distance away, as well as the gauntlet of hippos (Africa’s most dangerous animal) that I would have to navigate before I even got to the crocs. Once inside the suit a wave of claustrophobia and nausea gripped me. It was a very tight fit inside, and the apparatus was heavy at over 80 pounds. I was super nervous as the crew left me all alone, and I started my 60 meter crawl to the basking crocs.

An immediate concern was that I could only see straight ahead, I had no idea what dangers might be approaching from behind me. I was in radio contact with my crew but that seemed like little comfort. As I approached the first croc my heart was pounding, my mouth was dry and my body tense, yet my senses seemed razor sharp, keener than they had ever been before. I held my breath and inched closer, not knowing what to expect. The crocodile was now directly in front of me and had its gaze transfixed on me. I had never seen a croc from this vantage point, and boy did it look big. Seeing it on their level, the animal was simply beautiful in an awe inspiring primeval way. Within arms length the big croc just stared back at me, then calmly closed its eyes. Wow, a huge sigh of relief escaped my body, because this was a sure sign that the animal was comfortable with my presence. It was simply amazing that I was within three feet of a wild unrestrained croc and that it was accepting me as another croc. I got caught up in the special ness of the moment, realizing that I was doing something that had never been done before, when suddenly I was jolted back to the seriousness of the task at hand. My cameraman radioed to me that there was a large croc moving towards me from behind. Once again my heart raced and I held my breath expecting the worst, all the while wondering if my little croc suit could withstand an attack from a half ton reptilian giant. The seconds seemed like an eternity as I waited for the big croc. I could now hear his heavy feet and lumbering body as he got closer. The attack I feared never came; instead he saddled up beside me and lay down. He too was accepting me as just another croc. I definitely wanted to make history on this day, and not become history, so I quickly deployed my data logger onto the back of the croc in front of me and made a hasty retreat. As I crawled away I was lost in the euphoria of my successful experiment. On this day I literally became a crocodile, the animal I have dedicated my career to studying.

Andy Baker - Creative Director

As a fan of mixed martial arts and boxing, I love watching, participating and talking about combat sports. And the first time I saw a 3 minute teaser for “Fight Science”, I knew that THIS show was going to be right up my alley. My name is Andy Baker, and I’m the Director of the National Geographic Channel Creative department. What that job title really means is that I make promos and commercials for the National Geographic Channel – and I was not going to miss out on the opportunity to work on. “Fight Science”.

About a year before I had even seen a cut of the film, I saw this teaser “trailer” for the show at a meeting – it was incredible because not only did it showcase MMA fighters, it was essentially a competition between the different fighting disciplines to see which one (karate, kung fu, boxing, ninjitsu, muay thai, tae kwon do, capoeira, etc) was best at certain aspects – kicking, punching, power, speed, reflexes, balance, and so forth. It was so cool for me to see scientific data about these legendary techniques – and I wanted to capture MY own excitement for the show and hopefully get other people excited about it in promos as well.

We started with producing a promo for the show, which basically entails writing a script that sums up what the show is about and getting people interested in the topic (sort of like movie trailers you see). Then we take clips from the show and edit them together with some music and graphics and hopefully the viewer at home is interested in the show and wants to watch it on TV. As we were in the final stages of making the promos, (which usually start running about a month from the airdate) we realized that we had an opportunity to get some of the key martial artists in one place at one time for an interview – which we could edit into a podcast and make available for real “die-hard” martial arts enthusiasts online and even on the Apple iTunes site...and I thought it might be really informative and fun to get the principals together in one room and just talk about the show – how they got picked, what they thought about the process, etc. So once the logistics and technical details were all worked out, I flew out to LA where they were all gathering for a convention and basically we all sat down in a suite at their hotel with a sound engineer and about 9 microphones. We unplugged the phones (although one rung in the middle of the recording – if you listen carefully, you might hear me scrambling to unplug it!) and everyone started talking about their experience filming the show. We knew we wanted to turn this interview into about 3-5 individual podcasts to be available online, and I was just hoping that we would have enough to talk about. Well, that wasn’t a problem – they ended up talking for about 2 hours – and they probably could have gone on even longer! With about 12 people (most of them fairly large athletes) in a small hotel suite and technical equipment, it got a little warm in there pretty quickly. By the end of the 2 hours, everyone was a little uncomfortable. The funny thing was, they were actually laughing about it because apparently during the filming the studio was incredibly hot, what with 15-20 athletes and way more equipment on the set. So I guess it could have been worse.

What struck me during the interview was how these crash test scientists, show producers and elite martial artists were all so close. They laughed and joked around with each other, but underneath it all there was an incredible amount of respect that everybody had for one another. The ‘moderators’ of the interview were the show’s two producers – Mickey Stern and John Brenkus - and they did a great job. And everyone was even nicer than I could imagine – they chatted with me about their experiences, I shared with them my love for boxing (and made sure to rub it in a little that, according to the show, the boxing punch was the most devastating) and really felt like I made some great friends out of the process. When it was all over, I flew back to DC to edit the podcasts - hoping that everyone who listened to them would be as excited about this great show as I was.

Fight Science Downloads:
Episode One
Episode Two
Episode Three
Episode Four
Episode Five

Gail Mitchell - Special Contributor

Telling friends or family I just spent two months in a California maximum-security prison elicits a priceless reaction. When the initial shock fades, the questions spill out… Did you sleep there? Did you feel safe? What are the inmates like? What are the inmates in for? The list goes on…

To be honest, getting to know Valley State Prison for Women’s staff and inmates was more normal than I had anticipated. The catch phrase amongst inmates is that prison is a “world within a world.” This could not be more accurate. When an environment becomes your world, then that is what is normal.

When I first walked into this world, it looked like a typical maximum-security prison to me. Several rows of electrical fencing circled the complex. Touch the fence, and face electrocution. Keeping watch over everyone was a gunner in the tower, and he is armed with live ammunition. As far as I know, the gunner hasn’t fired any fatal shots yet. A good thing, considering his training is to shoot to kill.

When the recreational yard is full, it’s a sea of baseball-style shirts. The outfit could almost be cute if it weren’t on nearly all of the 3,900 inmates. And surprisingly, the women were so eager to talk they would often swarm our crew and begin chatting. We had just filmed at a men’s prison where getting them to talk took effort. Communicating verbally is what these women do. Some inmates would even yell across the field.

To get to where the majority of the inmates and staff are, we passed through two security checks. Even with a permit to film, no one can just waltz into the place—not even staff. Each person goes through a complete security check, metal detector and wand included. Since we had loads of gear (about five massive cases in total) each piece of gear was combed over when we arrived and left the prison. The thorough search ensured we didn’t bring in weapons or drugs and that we leave with what we brought. With lots of time to be innovative, officers have found that inmates can make weapons out of nearly anything. A misplaced nail or screwdriver could be turned into a fatal stabbing device.

When we came upon a group of inmates in their cell during dinnertime, we found that the ingenuity went beyond weaponry. They seemed to be chopping up their veggies as anyone would. Then, when we looked closer, we noticed they were using their plastic ID cards as a knife. Next, they poured the food, spices, and water into a clear trash bag. They boiled the water with a coil, and threw the whole thing in a sterilized trashcan.

Just when it seemed the inmates were almost having fun, we were reminded that in the very cell we were standing in, fights were frequent. The California system is so overcrowded, that eight women live in a space built for six. And different security levels bunk in the same room, meaning a murderer can sleep beside a thief. Tempers flare, and the results can be bloody… even deadly. We saw photos of a room post-fight. There were pools of blood, and a red footprint. No weapons were ever recovered, so the investigators think it was from a brutal fistfight. It’s difficult to think of women as violent, but in a maximum-security prison, this is the reality.

What was even more remarkable to me than being in the institution was reentering the “free world.” After my stint in prison, I noticed color. It was everywhere. Men and women could mingle wherever they please. I didn’t need an escort or wear a stab proof vest. And baseball style shirts were in fashion! But to me, they will always be the uniform of Valley State Prison for Women’s inmates. And don’t worry, Mom. We slept in a hotel.

Shirley Tatum - Producer

NASCAR champ Benny Parsons said it best: “Makin’ moonshine was a way of life. So many people involved, as a matter of fact, that Wilkesboro had its own courthouse for tryin’ moonshiners".

Benny never made moonshine. But growing up near the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina’s Wilkes County, he watched bootleggers cruise the streets in their jacked up 1940 Fords. “I was a car fan, every kid under the age of eighteen was a car fan. Loved the shiny cars, the hot rods. I mean, the cars with the 4-barrel carburetors, the fast cars.”

On a humid day in June, Benny Parsons returned to Wilkes County for our interview. Legendary NASCAR racer and bootlegger Junior Johnson was already with us. “How’s the wine business, Benny?” Junior asked with a drawl. “I don’t know much about it, I hope to learn something about it,” said Benny. He planned to get the soil ready for next year’s crop.

How times have changed in these parts. From illegal whiskey to wineries, outlaw bootleg cars to NASCAR victories. Watching Junior and Benny joke and reminisce about their racing days was a humbling experience. Both men were friendly, patient, and amazingly down home, considering their legendary status.

Junior tells Benny about his first race. It was at the Grand Nationals, and fans waiting for the race to start “would get to a-hollering and a-hoopin and they’s drinkin’ beer and liquor and stuff. They had to come up with some sort little entertainment for ‘em or there’s fightin’ and everything. So a bunch of bootleggers got all of their whiskey cars together and put on a little race for ‘em.” Benny laughs, wipes his brow, and asks Junior about winning the 1960 Daytona 500. Junior obliges. Then Benny turns to me, his blue eyes lit up with excitement. “Did you get that? Junior just told you how he invented the draft! That’s historic!”

Three weeks later, I got a call. “Benny’s got lung cancer. It’s not looking good.” It was a shock – he seemed so healthy at the time. Now Benny’s passed away. I feel privileged to have met him.

Moonshine Today
As I said, times have changed. Just days after meeting up with Junior Johnson, Benny Parsons and retired moonshiner Willie Clay Call, we met up with the Illegal Whiskey Unit, a special task force with Virginia’s Alcoholic Beverage Control. We rode with them to bust a nip joint, or underground bar in a rough neighborhood in Southwest Virginia. They wore bulletproof vests, and carried guns. “We need to wrap this up before sundown,” they warned us. The neighborhood’s known for drive-by shootings after dark.

Talk about culture shock. The moonshine of yesteryear embodies the rebel spirit of survival. It was about making a living to support your family during tough times. Even the stills were carefully crafted objects, oxidized copper made beautiful with the patina of time. It was an era of mason jars, 40 Fords, and bluegrass. Today’s moonshine can be a brutally streamlined and practical business – one with plastic jugs, nondescript hauling vans and warehouse distilleries. By some estimates, it’s a $20 million business in Virginia alone – that’s $20 million that the government can’t tax.

I was surprised to discover that moonshine, or homemade whiskey, is such a huge industry today. It’s illegal because it’s made and sold without taxes. With liquor stores everywhere brimming with cheap booze, I wondered, who’s buying moonshine today? Turns out there’s a huge market in big cities, especially in the south. As I watched the agents raid the nip joint, I asked one man (who refused to go on camera) what the appeal of moonshine was. “It’s a culture, it’s a nostalgia,” he said. Did he think anyone would want to talk to me about it? “You ain’t finding no one who talk to you,” he said, laughing at my naiveté. He was right.

Today, moonshine can be a kind of gateway criminal activity to more dangerous crimes. Nip joints are like social clubs, some of them selling harder drugs. Agents looking for moonshine stills stumble into meth labs. And moonshine’s also a crime that demands little time. Get arrested for a $20 rock of crack, and you’ll serve hard prison; get busted for selling $10,000 in moonshine, and you’ll serve a couple of months. Any enterprising criminal can do the math on this one.

Having seen both sides of moonshine – the old-time nostalgia vs. today’s hardcore reality – it’s hard to either completely celebrate or condemn it. I guess for me it comes down to greed. Getting by is one thing. Making a killing is another.