The 2025 summer blockbuster movie F1, starring Brad Pitt, includes several races in Europe, which has a grand history with auto racing. During the heyday of LIFE magazine’s original run racing was pretty much the top sport on the continent, and in 1953 the magazine sent staff photographer Frank Scherschel to cover one of its marquee races, 24 Hours of Le Mans.
As its name suggests, 24 Hours of Le Mans is an endurance event, where victory is about who goes the furthest in the allotted time, rather than who reaches the finish line first. Drivers switch off with teammates during the round-the-clock race, which takes place on a mix of tracks and city streets. The mix of surfaces meant that Le Mans cars were designed in a way that made them look more like everyday vehicles than your average race car.
Le Mans was once characterized by Sports Illustrated as “more a happening than a neat sports competition” owing to the spread-out nature of the course and also the duration of the competition. The photos Scherschel took for LIFE reflect that. The scene looks like a music festival as must as it does a sporting event. In addition to capturing the action on the track, he took in the entire scene, including the track’s popular “La Maison du Cafe”—coffee was going to be the drink of choice for many at a 24-hour-event. Although the track also had a “Le Vin de Bordeaux” concession stand, a reminder that this was, after all, France.
Scherschel was sure to capture the most distinctive element of the race back then, which was known as the “Le Mans start.” Drivers stood opposite where their cars were lined up, and then when the starter’s pistols fired they ran to their cars, hit the ignition and pulled out. That style of start was phased out for safety reasons in 1969.
While the start has changed, the 24 Hours of Le Mans continues today, and it stands as the oldest endurance race in the world. In June 2025 the 93rd running of the race was won by a Ferrari team for the third year in a row.
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Alberto Ascari (second from right), who would win the Formula One season championship that year, hung out with group of racers in the dugout at the Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Back in 1953 the Le Mans road race began with the drivers making a running start to their cars.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race stretched into the nighttime hours, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race stretched into the nighttime hours, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Le Mans road race, 1953.
Frank Scherschel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
In 2010 the PBS program Nature visited what remained of the legendary Cabo Blanco Fishing Club in Peru. The club was known for the massive fish that its members once pulled from the nearby waters. Those waters teemed with marlin and tuna and other big fish because that was where two major ocean currents came together, the chilly Humboldt Current and the warmer Pacific Equatorial Current. This meeting had the effect of driving plankton to the surface and creating an all-you-can-eat buffet for its larger predators. People had such an easy time finding trophy fish that the spot gained the nickname Marlin Boulevard.
In 1953 Alfred C. Glassell Jr., a Texas oilman who was one of the founders of the Cabo Blanco Fishing Club, reeled in a black marlin that weighed a record 1,560 pounds. His catch still stands as the mark for that kind of fish. Glassell’s long wrestling match with his marlin was so momentous that footage of it was used in the 1958 film version of Old Man and the Sea. That catch was obviously extreme, but it was also representative of the kind of mammoth fish that found in historic numbers at Cabo Blanco.
Back then, at least.
When Nature went to Cabo Blanco nearly 60 years after that record catch, reporters found a club that had been abandoned and its fishing waters depleted.
Here was the explanation for what happened:
In the years that followed Glassell’s record-breaking catch, a dramatic increase in the commercial fishing of anchovies, which are often used for fishmeal or bait, led to a significant decline in this important billfish food source. According to some, a particularly severe El Niño event in the Pacific likely compounded their scarcity. In 1970, the Cabo Blanco Fishing Club finally closed its doors, due to the military rule of General Juan Velasco Alvarado and the hostile environment toward North Americans his policies engendered. The giant billfish were gone, and so were the tourists.
LIFE magazine was fortunate enough to visit Cabo Blanco in 1959, when the club was still in its heyday. Staff photographer Frank Schershel captured the fisherman out at sea and along the shore. He documented one boat bringing in a 337-pound tuna—which was no record-setter, but still plenty big. Schershel showed the collection of marlin tails in the club parking lot, and the club’s board of big catches. The club also had on display its first thousand-pound catch, reeled in by Glassell in 1952 (his record-setting marlin the next year was donated to the Smithsonian).
While that heyday is long gone, some people still head to Cabo Blanco where, according to the travel blog Trans-American journey, the main recreational activity is now surfing.
When people do fish, they are mainly coming away those little anchovies, which can fit in the palm of your hand.
Members of the Cabo Blanco Fishing Club out on the sea, Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
Big fish in the water at Cabo Blanco, Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
Members of the Cabo Blanco Fishing Club bringing home a big catch, Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
A 337-lb. tuna caught at Cabo Blanco, Peru by member of the Cabo Blanco Fishing Club, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
The weight of a freshly caught tuna is marked on its body In Cabo Blanco, Peru, 1959.
Cabo Blanco Fishing
A 337-lb. tuna caught by member of the Cabo Blanco Fishing Club in Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Marlin tails were displayed in driveway of the Cabo Blanco Fishing Club in Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
A history of big fish-catches was displayed in the lobby of Cabo Blanco Fishing Club in Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
Members of Cabo Blanco Fishing Club discussed equipment, Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
A historic trophy on display at the Cabo Blanco Fishing Club in Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
Fishing off the shore in Cabo Blanco, Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Photo Collection/Shutterstock
Fishing off the shore in Cabo Blanco, Peru, 1959.
Fishing off the shore in Cabo Blanco, Peru, 1959.
Frank Schershel/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
In 2011, people around the world donned white caps and pants and painted their faces (and in some cases entire bodies) blue in celebration of the Smurfs. Dozens of Smurf figurines appeared in the Champs de Mars in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The small Spanish town of Júzcar was painted blue and filled with Smurf-themed murals and statues. And in New York, a giant inflatable Smurf made its way around the city, appearing in Central Park and South Street Seaport. By the end of the day, the event, dubbed Global Smurfs Day, broke the world record for “Largest Gathering of People Dressed as Smurfs Within a 24-hour Period in Multiple Venues,” with nearly 5,000 people participating.
This happened more than 20 years after the heyday of the television show and more than 50 years after the Smurfs first appeared in a Belgian comic series about the adventures of a medieval pageboy and his jester sidekick. The word “Smurf” has been translated into 55 languages, and the brand has a 95 percent global awareness.
The Smurfs are ubiquitous—you can find their faces on everything from keychains to billboards around the world—and they have attracted some pretty big star power through the years. The 2025 animated musical film Smurfs will star Octavia Spencer, Nick Offerman and James Corden, and the soundtrack will feature original songs by global pop superstar Rihanna, who is also playing Smurfette. “I hope this gives me a little bit of cool points with my kids one day,” she joked at CinemaCon 2023, when she announced her role in the movie.
Designed by Belgian comic writer and artist Pierre Culliford—better known by his nickname Peyo—the Smurfs first appeared in Peyo’s comic series Johan et Pirlouit (Johan and Peewit in English). In a 1958 story called “The Smurfs and the Magic Flute,” the series’ titular characters track down the creators of a magic flute: 100 tiny blue gnomes who live in an idyllic forest village.
Readers instantly fell in love. From their bright-blue skin to their delightful adventures and straightforward personalities (Hefty is strong, Brainy is smart, and so on), the Smurfs had an appeal that proved timeless. Since their debut, the Smurfs have appeared in more than 50 comic volumes, 256 episodes of the NBC animated show, three (soon to be four) feature films, more than 100 episodes of a reboot show, and on thousands of pieces of merchandise. So what’s so special about these tiny blue creatures?
Walt Disney was Peyo’s biggest inspiration. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, was one of the only American movies that he was able to see while living in Nazi-occupied Belgium, so it’s no surprise that Peyo’s Smurfs seem akin to Disney’s dwarfs. According to animator Philippe Capart in the documentary From the World of Peyo to Planet Smurf, Peyo adopted Disney’s style of creating round characters: “To draw a Smurf, you almost only need curves. There are no angles at all, so we have something really round and friendly.”
The Smurfs’ most distinguishing feature, their color, also charmed fans. The hue was actually selected by Peyo’s wife, Nine, who served as his colorist. After ruling out other colors, like red, because it would look angry, or green, because it would blend into the foliage, Nine settled on blue. Largely associated with positive feelings like calmness, trustworthiness, and stability, blue is a beloved color worldwide. It is the most popular favorite color for both men and women, and studies have found that it can have physiological effects like lowering heart rate. Blue is also widely accepted globally and considered positive in most cultures. These days, many children’s characters are blue (think Blue from Blue’s Clues, Stitch, Bluey, and Sully), but Peyo led the charge, creating a creature that is inviting and adorable to children (both boys and girls) and also adults.
The Smurf visage is so popular that even if you’ve never seen a minute of The Smurfs or read a single page of the comic, you recognize them. This is in part thanks to the robust collectibles market that sprang up almost immediately after their debut when a popular cereal brand began putting Smurf figurines in its boxes.
Indeed, toy versions of the Smurfs made their way stateside long before the comic or the TV show, and American television executive Fred Silverman was inspired to create the Smurfs show after purchasing a stuffed Smurf for his daughter in the resort town of Aspen, Colorado. With new figurines released annually, more than 300 million have been sold worldwide by now.
For kids, Smurf figurines are cute small toys with special personalities and accessories, akin to Lego minifigures or Polly Pockets. For adults, they make for the perfect collectible—they’re nostalgic and can be found at a range of prices (newer figurines cost around $6, but rarer vintage ones can cost more than $200). Each Smurf is simultaneously uniform and unique.
Beyond their design, the Smurfs’ world is timeless. Taking place in a medieval wonderland, the stories and vibe resonate just as much with audiences in 2025 as they did in the 1960s. The Smurfs are jolly (even when the evil wizard Gargamel tries to sabotage them, there is always a happy ending), they live in a blissful community that values collaboration and friendship, and they speak in “Smurf,” a charming and easily mimicked dialect. “The simplicity possessed by The Smurfs is not childish, but childlike,” wrote Felix James Miller, cohost of the podcast Truth, Beauty, Comics. “They rejoice in the world that surrounds them, just as we readers are meant to do.”
Since that first Global Smurf Day in 2011, there have been many more, celebrated each year on the closest Saturday to Peyo’s birthday, June 25. Decades after their first appearance in a Belgian comic, people still dress up like Smurfs, speak in Smurf, and consume Smurf content on Global Smurf Day and every day.
What’s so special about the Smurfs? Maybe we want to be them, living in harmony in an idyllic village in the forest. Maybe the company has perfectly nailed the changing trends in media consumption and kept us hooked. Or maybe they’re just really, really cute.
The Smurfs made their debut in the 1958 comic The Smurfs and the Magic Flute. In this panel Johan and Peewit are introduced to Papa Smurf (aka le Grand Schtroumpf): “Papa Smurf, meet Johan and Peewit!” “If that’s the big Smurf, then I’m the huge Peewit!”
Peyo with some Smurfy toys in 1984. By the 1980s, the brand had expanded into all kinds of merchandising, including theme parks, toys, and breakfast cereal.
Photo by Marc DEVILLE/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images
Smurfs invaded the Great Wall in Beijing, China, in celebration for Global Smurfs Day 2013.
Photo by Zhang Miao/Sony Pictures Entertainment via Getty Images
Nick Offerman plays red-bearded Ken, brother up Papa Smurf, in the 2025 Smurfs movie.
Paramount Animation
Rihanna voices Smurfette in the 2025 movie “Smurfs.”
Anyone who has spent much time at the beach knows of the special appeal of low tide. That is when the water pulls back its cover and beachcombers walk along the shore to see what has been revealed—be it a clam or a special seashell, a cool-looking rock, or anything else that might inspire the finder to say, “Hey, look what I found.”
LIFE wrote about this rite of summer in a story titled “Low Tide: Odd Creatures Fill Pools.” The particular setting of this story was Kennebunkport, Maine, but the phenomenon it described is familiar to beachlovers everywhere.
High tide along the coast of Maine is magnificent. The sea surges in, roaring over the rocks and beating fierce spray into the air. Low tide along the coast is not nearly so grand but it is much more interesting. After the water gurgles out of the rocky coastal pools, the tiny creatures of the shore and sand can be seen in shallow puddles—the scurrying crabs, the dawdling snails, the immovable barnacles, the curious starfish and see urchins.
Hoffman’s images are in this online gallery. Both have their appeal. But for anyone who spent their childhood summers exploring at low tide, Hoffman’s images capture the spirit of what it was like to be at the beach, feet in the wet sand, eyes focussed on the ground, in search of the next amazing discovery.
Children searched for creatures in a tidal pool during ebb tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Children searched for creatures in a tidal pool during ebb tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Children searched for creatures in a tidal pool during ebb tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Children searched for creatures in a tidal pool during ebb tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Children searched for creatures in a tidal pool during ebb tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Children searched for creatures in a tidal pool during ebb tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A child held up sea algae while searching a tidal pool during ebb tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Creatures found at low tide on a Maine beach, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A child dug for clams during a low tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Children dug for clams during a low tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A beach scene during a low tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A beach scene during a low tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A beach scene during a low tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A beach scene during a low tide in Maine, 1943.
Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
In 1946, in that moment after World War II when people were looking to get back on the road, LIFE photographer Andreas Feininger documented one of the most beautiful highways in North America. He headed to Canada and travelled the Icefields Parkway, which hugs the Continental Divide as it goes through Banff National Park and Jasper National Park. That 145-mile stretch of road, which is part of Alberta Highway 93, takes its name from the Columbia Icefield, which is the largest such field in North America’s Rocky Mountains. Traveling the road today requires a park permit.
LIFE magazine never actually published Feininger’s story, so we don’t have any observations on the trip from back in the day. But contemporary travel blogger Alec Sills-Trausch says of the Icefields Parkway, “It’s 145 miles of pure brilliance with never-ending lakes and stunning peaks that will make your jaw drop and cause a constant “oh my god” to come out of your mouth.” Feininger’s pictures quietly affirm that assessment.
The Columbia Icefield is featured in a few of the photos, but Feininger also captures the many of the other outdoor activities that draw people to Banff and Jasper, which include horseback riding, fishing, wildlife viewing, and simply taking in the awesomeness of the landscape. Feininger also photographed the civilization that exists amid the wildness, including stopping in Chateau Lake Louise, which has as spectacular a location as any hotel on the planet, and which still welcomes guests today.
Canada’s Icefields Parkway runs through Banff National Park and Jasper National Park, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Canada’s Icefields Parkway runs through Banff National Park and Jasper National Park, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Canada’s Icefields Parkway runs through Banff National Park and Jasper National Park, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The massive Columbia Icefield is a main attraction on Canada’s Icefields Highway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The massive Columbia Icefield is a main attraction on Canada’s Icefields Highway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Horseback riding along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A site along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, which runs through Banff National Park and Jasper National Park, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A man climbed along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Fishing along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Fishing along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Recreation along Canada’s scenic Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Horseback riding along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Canoeing along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Sightseeing along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Sightseeing along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Sightseeing along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The wildlife along Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Canada’s Icefields Parkway runs through Banff National Park and Jasper National Park, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
A town on Canada’s Icefields Parkway, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Canada’s Icefields Parkway runs through Banff National Park and Jasper National Park, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life PIcture Collection/Shutterstock
The Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise resort, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
The Chateau Lake Louise, 1946.
Andreas Feininger/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock
Few words in the American vocabulary inspire fear and fascination the way shark does. If shouted too loudly on a sunny Cape Cod beach, it could prompt scores of swimmers to rush to shore. When attached to a movie poster—think Jaws and Sharknado—the association has reliably led to big box office. More than half of Americans say they are scared of sharks, and a third have said they are so terrified they suffer from galeophobia (the scientific designation for a shark phobia) and won’t even go in the water.
There are plenty of reasons we are afraid of sharks. From a psychological perspective, being attacked by a shark looms as a particularly gruesome way to die. “We’re not just afraid of things because of the likelihood that they’ll happen, but [also] because of the nature of them if they do happen,” David Ropeik, who has studied the gap between human fears and reality, told Live Science in 2015. “It may be unlikely that you’ll be attacked by a shark, but it would suck if you did.” On top of that, there have been vastly more unprovoked shark-related incidents in the United States over time—28 in 2024 alone, triple that of Australia, which is next in line.
The odds of dying in a shark attack during your lifetime are incredibly remote—1 in 4.3 million. Each year, there are typically around six unprovoked shark-related fatalities worldwide. A beachgoer is far more likely to die of sun exposure (.00007 percent chance) or in a car accident (.011 percent chance) than from a shark attack. According to data compiled by the International Shark Attack File, you’re far more likely to be bitten by a New Yorker than a shark.
Perhaps because so much of the United States is landlocked, sharks historically were not on the American radar. In fact, for many years, sharks didn’t bite people in the U.S. Or, at least, that’s what the general population and some academics thought. Consider Maryland-born athlete Hermann Oelrichs, who in 1891 felt so sure that sharks were harmless, he jumped into the sharky waters outside his home in Newport, Rhode Island, to prove his point to some guests. Oelrichs was fine; the fish and sharks scattered—likely frightened by the splash, according to the Pittsburgh Dispatch. The upshot: Scientists at the American Museum of Natural History in New York later cited Oelrichs’s stunt as scientific evidence that man-eating sharks did not exist.
The conviction that sharks posed no threat would not last long. Fast-forward to 1916 on the Jersey Shore, when in the course of just 12 days, five people were attacked by sharks. In an attempt to contain public anxiety, authorities blamed all of the attacks on a single young great white that was found with human remains in its stomach.
The single-shark messaging led to the “mythos of a rogue killer . . . intentionally moving around and finding victims,” says Janet M. Davis, a professor of American Studies at the University of Texas at Austin, who has studied the history of human-shark interactions. “The fact that these fatal bites [in New Jersey] occurred in such rapid succession really scared people.” Locals fought back, with some tossing sticks of dynamite into a creek where one of the victims was found. President Woodrow Wilson promised federal aid to “drive away all the ferocious man-eating sharks which have been making prey of bathers,” reported the Philadelphia Inquirer.
During World War II, anxiety about shark attacks was so pronounced, the Navy began work on a shark repellent, with the help of the Office of Strategic Services, the precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency. Among others who devoted themselves to the repellent was OSS executive assistant and future chef Julia Child, who experimented with combinations of nicotine, clove oil, horse urine, rotting shark muscle, and asparagus in the hopes of preventing shark attacks. Before the end of the war, the Navy introduced Shark Chaser, a pink pill of copper acetate that produced an inky black dye when released in the water, obscuring a serviceman from lurking sharks.
With the war’s end, it would be another 30 years before fear of sharks again gripped the public. The precipitating events: the publication of the book Jaws by Peter Benchley and the release of the Hollywood version, also called Jaws.
“During the summer of 1975 when Jaws was in hundreds of theaters across the [U.S.] . . . we could see the fear that it was stirring up,” Wendy Benchley, an ocean conservationist and the novelist’s widow, told National Geographic in 2022. For some, that meant avoiding swimming in deep waters. Others were inspired to emulate the film’s heroes and sail out to sea to hunt down these creatures. Across the U.S. East Coast in the mid-1980s, sporting events, such as Monster Shark Tournaments, took place to kill sharks as conquests. “It horrified Peter and me that some people’s first reaction was to kill sharks,” she said.
But there were also members of the public who found the story thrilling. Thousands of people around the world sent letters to Benchley to describe how the book and film had inspired them to learn more, become marine biologists, or photograph sharks. (One example: Eight years after the release of Jaws, a group of scientists founded the American Elasmobranch Society, to promote the study of sharks.) “There is no question that Jaws made a lot of people scared of sharks, and some responded by killing these animals,” shark scientist Yannis Papastamatiou told National Geographic in 2022. “Jaws had the opposite effect on me. I wanted to work with sharks.”
America’s post-Jaws reactions to sharks largely centered around another entertainment medium: Shark Week and the rise of television documentaries. If Jaws—both the book and movie—taught television and film executives anything, it was that sharks sell. The Discovery Channel’s weeklong Shark Week event, inaugurated in 1988 as a way to spark ratings, soon became an annual mainstay–akin to a secular national holiday.
Originally, Shark Week programming was educationally oriented, including the 1988 film Caged in Fear, about the development of technology to stave off shark attacks. But as ratings for Shark Week grew, Discovery amped up the drama, conflict, and sensationalism. Today, Shark Week tends to feature content like Great White Serial Killer: Sea of Blood, which capitalized on a string of fatal shark attacks off the coast of Mexico. In the film, investigators attempted to identify the perpetrator, a massive great white shark, and capture it on film.
Although sharks continue to be sensationalized in the media, researchers like Papastamatiou work to promote a more accurate understanding of the animals and support conservation efforts. In particular, Papastamatiou, who runs the Predator Ecology & Conservation Lab at Florida International University, is known for his work around sharks’ social and hunting habits.
Instead of demonizing sharks, the public should follow the example of seafaring communities in the South Pacific, Davis suggests. In Hawaii and Fiji, sharks are not viewed as blood-frenzied serial killers but instead revered as ancestral spirits. Of course, that doesn’t mean these indigenous communities would call sharks cute and cuddly. “This is an animal that is very powerful and strong,” says Davis. “So even in a culture that really looks to these animals as central to their cosmologies and spiritual worlds, there’s still respect for the potential power of these animals.” These centuries-old stories and traditions align with what scientists have been discovering–the ocean is better with sharks in it. ——By Courtney Mifsud Intreglia ▼ ▼
Cover photo by Chris & Monique Fallows/Nature Picture Library
Cover photo by Brad Leue/Alamy
Cultures on seafaring islands in the South Pacific consider the whale shark to be a harbinger of good luck and fortune.
Alamy Stock Photo
Marine biologists observed a Port Jackson shark about 20 meters below in the surface in the waters off Sydney, Australia.
Fairfax Media via Getty Images
Bull sharks, seen above in Western Australia, are found in both saltwater and freshwater. They have been spotted in rivers hundreds of miles from the ocean.
Getty Images
The 1975 summer blockbuster Jaws, starring Roy Scheider, had plenty of people afraid to go in the water.
Corbis via Getty Images
In the 2003 movie Finding Nemo, a shark named Bruce looked intimidating but turned out to be kind and gentle.