From the past,
"The clear burning light of the sun pours daylong into the saw
grass and is lost there, soaked up, never given back. Only the
water flashes and glints. The grass yields nothing."
By CRAIG BASSE
arjory Stoneman Douglas, grande dame of the Florida Everglades and the state's pre-eminent conservationist, died at her Miami home Thursday. She was 108.
"The years caught up with her," said William T. Muir, a lawyer and family friend.
Douglas died in her Coconut Grove home of 72 years. As she requested, her home will be turned into a state museum and her ashes will be scattered over the portion of the Everglades National Park that bears her name in a public ceremony on May 23. Read the story
Though expected, the loss of a hero still stings
had one of the last "come in, sit down, would you like something to drink?" interviews with Marjory Stoneman Douglas. It happened in 1992, and I was as nervous as a kid reporter.
Mrs. Douglas was one of my heroes, the person who had done the most to try to save the Everglades, a place I had loved and explored since childhood. Her landmark book, The Everglades: River of Grass, was considered the Bible by people who cared about natural Florida, including me. Still, the aristocratic Mrs. Douglas could be daunting. Blind and virtually deaf, she already had entered her second century on the planet, and she was notoriously cantankerous. Click here to continue
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