It's summer in the South, so that means it's hot. That's not news to anyone living here, but someone thinks it is. Unfortunately I seem to be our shooter of sweltering shots, because I keep getting assigned these stories.
It wouldn't be so bad, but there are only so many ideas I can come up with on my own. Around a month ago, I got this assignment with Chris N., but I already had an idea ready.
Tuesday I was sent out to get video and sound of people in the heat for weather, and Wednesday I got another heat package.
This time Ashley D. was my accomplice, and our story didn't turn out too bad. I kind of rode her idea, and had a good day of shooting. I actually had more great shots than I had story to cover!
Watch Hot Project.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Flying Solo
Friday I was unattached, so I thought I'd take my destiny into my own hands. Turns out it still isn't my own.
A look at the big board of fate Friday morning informed me that I was unattached for the day. Usually that means I'd be rolling on every little fender bender and potential fire. This day I decided to go looking for a photo essay to put together. One of the talk radio hosts was encouraging his listeners to give to an account set up for a man who lost his legs while changing a friend's tire along the interstate. It was too late to make it to the radio station, so I decide to hit one of the bank branches and see what there was to see.
Hearing about the great response they were getting, I was hoping to get telling sound from the tellers describing the effect others affection was having on them. Company policy said otherwise. Luckily I got a mom and daughter who weren't afraid of the camera.
Before the show ended, the district manager from one of the oil change franchises announced that they would be giving five dollars for every car they serviced. This was my second stop. Usually the guys in the pit are some of the best characters you can find, and Eric didn't disappoint.
This is the first nat-pack I've done since coming to the station, which is just over five years. It could use a bit more polish, but I've learned quite a bit for the next time I do one.
My reporter even got me the script with two hours to edit, but a live truck with Erectile Dysfunction 45 minutes away meant that I was going to have to edit it on overtime. Not usually a problem, but a tired wife with with a crying baby lend to stress and tend to speed up the edit.
A look at the big board of fate Friday morning informed me that I was unattached for the day. Usually that means I'd be rolling on every little fender bender and potential fire. This day I decided to go looking for a photo essay to put together. One of the talk radio hosts was encouraging his listeners to give to an account set up for a man who lost his legs while changing a friend's tire along the interstate. It was too late to make it to the radio station, so I decide to hit one of the bank branches and see what there was to see.
Hearing about the great response they were getting, I was hoping to get telling sound from the tellers describing the effect others affection was having on them. Company policy said otherwise. Luckily I got a mom and daughter who weren't afraid of the camera.
Before the show ended, the district manager from one of the oil change franchises announced that they would be giving five dollars for every car they serviced. This was my second stop. Usually the guys in the pit are some of the best characters you can find, and Eric didn't disappoint.
This is the first nat-pack I've done since coming to the station, which is just over five years. It could use a bit more polish, but I've learned quite a bit for the next time I do one.
My reporter even got me the script with two hours to edit, but a live truck with Erectile Dysfunction 45 minutes away meant that I was going to have to edit it on overtime. Not usually a problem, but a tired wife with with a crying baby lend to stress and tend to speed up the edit.
I'd show it to you, but it didn't make it to the station's website.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Hard Days
It's been a tough couple of day for the home team. Not that the workload has been extraordinarily heavy, but it's a miracle we've been able to deliver.
It seems that those in charge have reverted to expecting the daily miracles from us again. Case in point: yesterday I was paired with KD, for the first time since our False River Fourth of July, on a story about a man arrested for three counts of sexual battery on minors. We heard about it in a press release from the Assumption Parish sheriff.
Usually this wouldn't be a tough one to pull off, but we didn't leave on the assignment until 1:00 pm, and Pierre Part is an hour away. On top of that, we don't have anyone scheduled to interview, so we'll have to knock on doors and hope someone will talk to us on camera. Not as likely to happen since this is a small town where everyone knows everyone else. Add to this recipe a dash of 5PM deadline, and in a couple of hours you could have a disaster.
I don't ask for much, but I would like a proper amount of time to put a story like this together. If we're not going to get an assignment until one, with no calls made, and the drive time is an hour, put us in the six. When KD announced the drive time, all the 5PM producer had to say was "I guess you better get going, you're the lead package." This is why I plan on pushing hard to make sure that all of our producers get to spend one week with a photog, observing what it is we really have to go through to pull this kind of assignment off. Having never left the comfort of their air conditioned cubicle, except to get lunch at the same time every day, they seem to think that a story like this "just happens."
I've read enough b-roll.net to know that our producers aren't the only ones who do this, but it's my blog and I need to vent about it.
Here's the story.
Today sees the two of us riding together, again. Instead of only having an hour to shoot a package, we have to deal with the grandiose vision of what could be. We've been given the story that every station in the country was doing today: Are our bridges safe?
My thoughts and prayers go out to those in Minneapolis who are dealing with injuries to both body and soul tonight. Compared to what they're dealing with my work problems are but a grain of sand.
I knew before coming into work that someone in our station was going to do this story, and I had a pretty good feeling that they would be standing beside my lens while doing so. My question today is, "Why does it take an hour to decide who's doing this story? Also, why hasn't anyone made some calls on this to set up interviews?"
At 10 am we leave the station...to get a VOSOT on BOPSA (bunch of people sitting/standing around). At 10:45 am KD gets a voicemail suggesting that she contact an engineer at LSU. Has this person made a call to set this up? Hasn't even thought about it, but he's got a vision. "What I see is you talking to a professor, and he's got a model of a bridge on his desk where he can point out structural issues..." Um, yeah, sure. I've been to many a prof's office, and all they seem to have on their desks are papers, lots and lots of papers. It becomes a moot point since no one calls us back.
We journey forth to collect images of bridges in the area, while waiting on a call from DOTD. It turns out that the same visionary from above insisted that he be the point of contact between us and them. Not a bad plan, except for the part where he's "out of pocket" for 90 minutes at the doctor's office, and not answering his cell phone.
In the end, another grand vision, worthy of an evening's lineup of newscasts, finds its true destiny through my edit decks.
Watch it here.
It seems that those in charge have reverted to expecting the daily miracles from us again. Case in point: yesterday I was paired with KD, for the first time since our False River Fourth of July, on a story about a man arrested for three counts of sexual battery on minors. We heard about it in a press release from the Assumption Parish sheriff.
Usually this wouldn't be a tough one to pull off, but we didn't leave on the assignment until 1:00 pm, and Pierre Part is an hour away. On top of that, we don't have anyone scheduled to interview, so we'll have to knock on doors and hope someone will talk to us on camera. Not as likely to happen since this is a small town where everyone knows everyone else. Add to this recipe a dash of 5PM deadline, and in a couple of hours you could have a disaster.
I don't ask for much, but I would like a proper amount of time to put a story like this together. If we're not going to get an assignment until one, with no calls made, and the drive time is an hour, put us in the six. When KD announced the drive time, all the 5PM producer had to say was "I guess you better get going, you're the lead package." This is why I plan on pushing hard to make sure that all of our producers get to spend one week with a photog, observing what it is we really have to go through to pull this kind of assignment off. Having never left the comfort of their air conditioned cubicle, except to get lunch at the same time every day, they seem to think that a story like this "just happens."
I've read enough b-roll.net to know that our producers aren't the only ones who do this, but it's my blog and I need to vent about it.
Here's the story.
Today sees the two of us riding together, again. Instead of only having an hour to shoot a package, we have to deal with the grandiose vision of what could be. We've been given the story that every station in the country was doing today: Are our bridges safe?
My thoughts and prayers go out to those in Minneapolis who are dealing with injuries to both body and soul tonight. Compared to what they're dealing with my work problems are but a grain of sand.
I knew before coming into work that someone in our station was going to do this story, and I had a pretty good feeling that they would be standing beside my lens while doing so. My question today is, "Why does it take an hour to decide who's doing this story? Also, why hasn't anyone made some calls on this to set up interviews?"
At 10 am we leave the station...to get a VOSOT on BOPSA (bunch of people sitting/standing around). At 10:45 am KD gets a voicemail suggesting that she contact an engineer at LSU. Has this person made a call to set this up? Hasn't even thought about it, but he's got a vision. "What I see is you talking to a professor, and he's got a model of a bridge on his desk where he can point out structural issues..." Um, yeah, sure. I've been to many a prof's office, and all they seem to have on their desks are papers, lots and lots of papers. It becomes a moot point since no one calls us back.
We journey forth to collect images of bridges in the area, while waiting on a call from DOTD. It turns out that the same visionary from above insisted that he be the point of contact between us and them. Not a bad plan, except for the part where he's "out of pocket" for 90 minutes at the doctor's office, and not answering his cell phone.
In the end, another grand vision, worthy of an evening's lineup of newscasts, finds its true destiny through my edit decks.
Watch it here.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Lenslinger Alert!
I'd love to be able to do this story, but since I'm nowhere near Greensboro, I guess I'll give it to the 'Slinger to pitch.
UNC Greensboro's ECON 201 is actually a video game that counts for 3 credit hours.
Gamepolitics has the story.
You can thank me for the Emmy later.
UNC Greensboro's ECON 201 is actually a video game that counts for 3 credit hours.
Gamepolitics has the story.
You can thank me for the Emmy later.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Father's Day
It's my first Father's Day, but it's nothing like I imagined.
On May 19, 2007, I became the proud papa of Chloe Anne and Claire Michelle Sellers.
On May 19, 2007, I became the proud papa of Chloe Anne and Claire Michelle Sellers.
Having these two beautiful children enter our lives is a blessing and a joy I didn't know was possible. Finally being able to hold them brought the stupidest grin to my face, but I couldn't help it. These are my girls, and I'd do anything for them. Most of you have already read my musings on the subject of parenthood, so I'll not go into that again. How could two little babies enter the world and be so perfect?
The work began the first night. Erica was confined to the bed after the C-section, and the medicines she was on kept her out of commission for the first couple days. This meant that I was the one not getting any sleep, because the slightest sound from any of them had me instantly awake and ready to tend to their needs.
A couple of days later we brought them home, and the next couple of weeks passed rather uneventfully. Diapers were changed, bottles were filled, emptied, washed, and filled again. It was a hectic schedule, but my mother-in-law stayed with us, so I got to avoid most of that, because I was going to work. We looked ahead to the future, anticipating the day when they would begin smiling at us and laughing, crawling and rolling around on the floor with us, and all of the things that parents take joy in seeing their children do.
Our lives had changed forever, and the worry of the past 36 weeks was behind us. Our girls were healthy and more beautiful than I could believe. They were about to change again.
June 8, 2007 is one day I will never forget. I had called in sick, because my eyelid was bulging with a still growing stye, and I wasn't feeling too well, either. I figured a day at home with some rest and warm compresses would clear things up by Monday, and I'd be headed back to work. My wife and her mother were worrying about Chloe, because they couldn't wake her up for her six a.m. feeding, and she's not one to miss those. When they began to get her ready to go to the pediatrician, I knew that I had to go. She was pale and breathing shallowly, not moving much. We rushed to the office to get the diagnosis.
Our doctor checked her over and told us that we needed to get her to the PICU quickly. She called an ambulance for transport, in case something happened on the way. While waiting for the EMTs, I was trying to comfort Chloe. She grasped my forefinger in her tiny hand, rested her cheek against the back of my hand and looked me right in the eyes. I told her that she'd be better soon, and not to be scared.
That was pretty much the last time she looked directly at me. I wish I could say the next four days are a blur, but I can remember them quite clearly. Chloe was immediately given IV antibiotics and put on a ventilator. She could breathe on her own, but this let her rest and fight the infection. That infection turned out to be bacterial meningitis, caused by Group B Strep. By Sunday she was looking better, and though she had suffered some seizures, the outlook was ok. Her body seemed to be getting healthier, but full neurological diagnosis would have to wait.
Monday was a bad day in which Chloe got worse before our eyes. That evening we got the talk that nearly caused me to pass out. The swelling had gotten worse, and so had the EEGs measuring her brain activity. That night we called our priest and he came to the hospital and baptised both girls. Claire was already in the hospital receiving the same antibiotics, but only as a precaution, since her tests were negative for the germ.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007 is the day we let our baby go. I read to her for the first and last time that morning. That afternoon, we all got to hold her and tell her goodbye, one by one. Finally Erica and I held her as the IVs and ventilator were disconnected, and she drifted peacefully out of our arms and into God's loving embrace.
Claire is fine. She's healthy and home with us, which helps ease the pain, but even she seems to miss her sister. Suddenly I find myself revising the dreams I had, and instead of two beautiful smiling faces playing in the yard, kissing me goodnight, and graduating together, I only see one. We have vowed that Claire will have a normal life, and that we won't let Chloe's loss cripple us. The prayers that have been given up for us have given us strength to face this, and we wholeheartedly thank each and every one of you for those.
So here I sit, on Father's Day, and contemplate what's next. Tomorrow I will go back to work. In my profile I say that I'm trying to grow up as slowly as possible. It was forced on me this past week. Thank all of you for thinking about us. We'll be ok, eventually.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Happy Trails
Goodbye and good luck, Kenny P.
Last Friday was Ken Pastorick's last day at the Deuce. It is with some small amount of sadness that I salute you, sir, for all the laughs, tense moments, high blood pressure, and tight deadlines you have given me.
Ken is one of the most loyal people I know. His television career started here as an intern, and he came full circle, 20 years later. In the time that I have known him, he bled whatever colors the mic flag bore, be it purple and gold, silver and blue, or blue, black gold and purple. You'd be hard pressed to find an employee who backed his station with such fierce determination.
He's also an excellent reporter, who sinks his teeth into a story like a rabid pit bull, and then shakes it back and forth until it finally succumbs to his quill.
We shared some great times, sleeping in news units, staring down Category 5 hurricanes, or playing kick the seagull. It was dead, so no PETA threats, please. Of course Ken just missed it with Mobile 16 before I planted it squarely in the grill of Mobile 30.
I find it only fitting that he spent his last day assigned with me, heading to Port Sulphur, to seek out a former Deucer on which to do a story. That person is Russell Drewry, who had come back to Louisiana on a mission trip.
We had a good time catching up, and putting together a great story, and Russell even carried my tripod! As my gift to Kenny, as he moved on to his Gub-mint job as a PIO, I sent him out with a bang. You could even say we nailed this story. Have I hammered the point home enough?
Port Sulphur Pilgrimage
Last Friday was Ken Pastorick's last day at the Deuce. It is with some small amount of sadness that I salute you, sir, for all the laughs, tense moments, high blood pressure, and tight deadlines you have given me.
Ken is one of the most loyal people I know. His television career started here as an intern, and he came full circle, 20 years later. In the time that I have known him, he bled whatever colors the mic flag bore, be it purple and gold, silver and blue, or blue, black gold and purple. You'd be hard pressed to find an employee who backed his station with such fierce determination.
He's also an excellent reporter, who sinks his teeth into a story like a rabid pit bull, and then shakes it back and forth until it finally succumbs to his quill.
We shared some great times, sleeping in news units, staring down Category 5 hurricanes, or playing kick the seagull. It was dead, so no PETA threats, please. Of course Ken just missed it with Mobile 16 before I planted it squarely in the grill of Mobile 30.
I find it only fitting that he spent his last day assigned with me, heading to Port Sulphur, to seek out a former Deucer on which to do a story. That person is Russell Drewry, who had come back to Louisiana on a mission trip.
We had a good time catching up, and putting together a great story, and Russell even carried my tripod! As my gift to Kenny, as he moved on to his Gub-mint job as a PIO, I sent him out with a bang. You could even say we nailed this story. Have I hammered the point home enough?
Port Sulphur Pilgrimage
They're Heeeeere!
Announcing the newest branches of the family tree, Chloe and Claire!
These two healthy girls were born at 2:28 p.m. and 2:29 p.m., weighing in at 5 lbs., 15 oz. and 5 lbs, 10 oz., and measuring 19 in. and 18 in., respectively.
Wish us luck with these two handfuls, as they are our first children.
I was gonna link a couple of photos, but apparently you can't do that from Snapfish. Guess I'll have to try another site.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Getting Close
This could be a big weekend for our family.
Tonight the wife and I are staying at the Hotel Baton Rouge General. She's being kept overnight for observation, with a possible C-section tomorrow at noon. Everything is ok, so far, with the exception of a slightly high blood pressure, which is was spurred the visit.
Updates to follow when possible.
Tonight the wife and I are staying at the Hotel Baton Rouge General. She's being kept overnight for observation, with a possible C-section tomorrow at noon. Everything is ok, so far, with the exception of a slightly high blood pressure, which is was spurred the visit.
Updates to follow when possible.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Gaming Parents
With my twins almost here, I find myself thinking of what kind of parent I'll be to them.
I've been told I'll make a great parent, probably because I haven't given up that last fingerhold on my childhood. I keep wondering what I'll do to make sure they know they're loved and cared for, and hope that they'll turn out to be well-adjusted, productive members of society.
One of my plans is to get them into video games as early as possible. Not only does it give me an excuse to keep playing, but it gives me an excellent opportunity to share a part of their lives with them.
This article gives me hope that I can do just that, and start an open and honest line of communication with them.
I've been told I'll make a great parent, probably because I haven't given up that last fingerhold on my childhood. I keep wondering what I'll do to make sure they know they're loved and cared for, and hope that they'll turn out to be well-adjusted, productive members of society.
One of my plans is to get them into video games as early as possible. Not only does it give me an excuse to keep playing, but it gives me an excellent opportunity to share a part of their lives with them.
This article gives me hope that I can do just that, and start an open and honest line of communication with them.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Water, Water...
What could the cost of a few drops of rain be to a city like Baton Rouge?
For my second sweeps offering, I present a two part series on rain.
What's the Cost?
What Can We Do?
An interesting note: I couldn't help but think of the Ol 'Polisher when we were shooting at the Wastewater Treatment Plant. Surprisingly, it smelled much better than New Orleans on Mardi Gras.
For my second sweeps offering, I present a two part series on rain.
What's the Cost?
What Can We Do?
An interesting note: I couldn't help but think of the Ol 'Polisher when we were shooting at the Wastewater Treatment Plant. Surprisingly, it smelled much better than New Orleans on Mardi Gras.
More Awards
I'd like to give thanks to the Ol 'Polisher for the shout out on our accolades, and to return the favor. Not many people get to be on both teams during the big game.
It is nice to know that someone recognizes the hard work, even if it's only second place. Don't get me wrong; something is better than nothing, but who could respect me for being content with anything less than first.
For the backstory on what it took to place, check out this crumb that may have fallen through the cracks.
It is nice to know that someone recognizes the hard work, even if it's only second place. Don't get me wrong; something is better than nothing, but who could respect me for being content with anything less than first.
For the backstory on what it took to place, check out this crumb that may have fallen through the cracks.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Address: Atchafalya
Sweeps has begun! My first offering to the ratings gods aired Sunday night. I shot it, but JP edited it. I think it came out really well.
Watch it here.
Watch it here.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Joor Road
Kenny: "What do you think?"
Me: "It's a story about a road."
Such was the deeply intellectual conversation in which we engaged after I read the script. For the record it was a pretty good day, and Kenny had some good ideas.
Check it out.
Oh, and here's a link to the piece about LSU's Bowl Prospects. The standup is one of my better sequences.
Bowl Hopes.
Me: "It's a story about a road."
Such was the deeply intellectual conversation in which we engaged after I read the script. For the record it was a pretty good day, and Kenny had some good ideas.
Check it out.
Oh, and here's a link to the piece about LSU's Bowl Prospects. The standup is one of my better sequences.
Bowl Hopes.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Birthday...huh.
"Doing anything special for your birthday?"
"Define 'special'."
My birthday was last week, so here's a quick rundown of how I spent it:
12:00 - 4:30 AM Sleeping, more or less.
4:30 - 5:00 AM Wake up, stumble into clothes, brush teeth, etc.
5:00 AM Fire up Mobile 30 and pull out of driveway.
5:10 - 10:10 AM I-12, I-10, I-49, LA Hwy. 167, LA Hwy. 80
10:12 AM Pull into parking lot at Grambling State University
10:20 AM Find Media Room - No food remaining.
10:25 - 10:55 AM Hang out with other Sat. Op.
11:00 AM Return to truck, find Galaxy 11, pull cable and set up tripod, camera, microphone, IFB, and reflector.
11:50 AM Uplink is hot.
12:05 PM Power down.
12:20 PM Cookin' again.
12:35 PM "Clear"
12:40 - 3:50 PM Hang out in truck, watch sat feed of funeral, or whatever else is on the bird.
3:50 - 4:05 PM Live again.
4:25 - 4:40 PM Move truck 1oo yds. and reset.
4:50-4:57 PM Wait on 'the bridge' while one person juggles access for three sats and 30 truck ops before finally accessing the bird.
5:05 PM Standby mode activated.
5:25 PM Call access about previous cluster, have pleasant conversation.
5:45 PM "Press 1 for Galaxy 11." beep "Please enter your 2-digit trans-" beep, beep..beep
6:10 PM HPA to OFF, strike equipment and cables.
6:30 PM Dish is Down, so is the 'hammer.'
10:00 PM Get in line at Wendy's in Lafayette.
10:30 PM Get food and return to truck.
11:40 PM Park Mobile 30 at station.
11:45 PM Eat burger.
12:15 AM Get home.
12:30 AM System log ends.
"Define 'special'."
My birthday was last week, so here's a quick rundown of how I spent it:
12:00 - 4:30 AM Sleeping, more or less.
4:30 - 5:00 AM Wake up, stumble into clothes, brush teeth, etc.
5:00 AM Fire up Mobile 30 and pull out of driveway.
5:10 - 10:10 AM I-12, I-10, I-49, LA Hwy. 167, LA Hwy. 80
10:12 AM Pull into parking lot at Grambling State University
10:20 AM Find Media Room - No food remaining.
10:25 - 10:55 AM Hang out with other Sat. Op.
11:00 AM Return to truck, find Galaxy 11, pull cable and set up tripod, camera, microphone, IFB, and reflector.
11:50 AM Uplink is hot.
12:05 PM Power down.
12:20 PM Cookin' again.
12:35 PM "Clear"
12:40 - 3:50 PM Hang out in truck, watch sat feed of funeral, or whatever else is on the bird.
3:50 - 4:05 PM Live again.
4:25 - 4:40 PM Move truck 1oo yds. and reset.
4:50-4:57 PM Wait on 'the bridge' while one person juggles access for three sats and 30 truck ops before finally accessing the bird.
5:05 PM Standby mode activated.
5:25 PM Call access about previous cluster, have pleasant conversation.
5:45 PM "Press 1 for Galaxy 11." beep "Please enter your 2-digit trans-" beep, beep..beep
6:10 PM HPA to OFF, strike equipment and cables.
6:30 PM Dish is Down, so is the 'hammer.'
10:00 PM Get in line at Wendy's in Lafayette.
10:30 PM Get food and return to truck.
11:40 PM Park Mobile 30 at station.
11:45 PM Eat burger.
12:15 AM Get home.
12:30 AM System log ends.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Goodbye, Coach Rob
This week I paid my respects to Coach Eddie Robinson in the true photog tradition, by covering his memorial service. Monday found me visiting the State Capitol as Coach Rob made his trip to lie in state.
It was one of the most powerful moments I have ever witnessed. Many of his former players were there for the ceremony, and they handed a football from one to another along a line that streched from the doors of the Senate chamber, to the seal in the center of the rotunda, and back, before handing it to his widow, who placed it in the casket with him. Then the band, set up at the other end of the rotunda, near the House Chamber, began to play the Grambling State University alma mater, and nearly everyone in the room began to sing. The players and coaches held one hand aloft, with their index finger extended. Truly a shooter's dream; rich, powerful visuals accomanied by great sound. As the alma mater wound down, the band transitioned smoothly into the GSU fight song, sung with such love, devotion, and energy that a person couldn't help getting swept along in the tide of emotion flooding through the room. I'm getting choked up, even now.
I don't know a lot about Coach Rob. I truly regret that I didn't get to meet him, because I know it would have been one of those moments of being in the presence of true greatness. A humble man whose goal was to lead every young man in his care to be someone he could allow to marry his daughter, and to realize they could take charge of their lives and become whatever they wanted. Some became professional football players, but many became doctors, lawyers, and professionals in many fields other than the gridiron on which they played.
That's one of the great benefits of this job. I may not have ever met the man in life, but I have come to know him through the lives that he has changed. Thank you, Coach Rob.
It was one of the most powerful moments I have ever witnessed. Many of his former players were there for the ceremony, and they handed a football from one to another along a line that streched from the doors of the Senate chamber, to the seal in the center of the rotunda, and back, before handing it to his widow, who placed it in the casket with him. Then the band, set up at the other end of the rotunda, near the House Chamber, began to play the Grambling State University alma mater, and nearly everyone in the room began to sing. The players and coaches held one hand aloft, with their index finger extended. Truly a shooter's dream; rich, powerful visuals accomanied by great sound. As the alma mater wound down, the band transitioned smoothly into the GSU fight song, sung with such love, devotion, and energy that a person couldn't help getting swept along in the tide of emotion flooding through the room. I'm getting choked up, even now.
I don't know a lot about Coach Rob. I truly regret that I didn't get to meet him, because I know it would have been one of those moments of being in the presence of true greatness. A humble man whose goal was to lead every young man in his care to be someone he could allow to marry his daughter, and to realize they could take charge of their lives and become whatever they wanted. Some became professional football players, but many became doctors, lawyers, and professionals in many fields other than the gridiron on which they played.
That's one of the great benefits of this job. I may not have ever met the man in life, but I have come to know him through the lives that he has changed. Thank you, Coach Rob.
Breaking Ground
Any shooter will tell you that ribbon cuttings and ground breakings are the bane of their existence. If more of them were like the one last week, we'd all be clamoring for them.
The groundbreaking was a ceremonial affair for work being done on LA Hwy. 1. This road is the true Energy Corridor for the country, through which nearly 18 percent of the country's oil flows, not to mention more than a few tons of fresh gulf shrimp. I was working a nightside schedule, because I was doing uplinks for the early evening shows. I got there with a comfortable amount of time to set up the truck and enjoy the view.
Fourchon (pronounced FOO-shawn) is nearly identical to Cameron. The buzz of whirling helicopter blades never fades from hearing for long as they carry workers and supplies over the marshes and out to the petroleum platforms in the Gulf of Mexico. This was my first time on this part of the coast, and I enjoyed the smell of the sea breeze and the cry of the gulls, especially since I didn't have to pay attention to the drone of the politicos under the tent.
After a couple hours of speeches the time finally came to put shovel to freshly poured dirt, accompanied by the requisite applause and punctuated by the clicks and pops of shutters and flashes, while the silent lenses of the video cameras fed images to hungry CCDs. But the feeding didn't stop there. The band in the corner of the tent struck up and the boiled crawfish and shrimp began to flow. I managed to polish off a couple pounds of mudbugs between satellite windows, and even brought home a pound of peeled tail meat. Unfortunately I could have any of the free beer to wash down this sumptuous smorgasbord, because I was still on the clock, in company logowear, and had a three hour drive back to Baton Rouge in a van worth more than 100 grand.
I settled for a Coke and a smile.
The groundbreaking was a ceremonial affair for work being done on LA Hwy. 1. This road is the true Energy Corridor for the country, through which nearly 18 percent of the country's oil flows, not to mention more than a few tons of fresh gulf shrimp. I was working a nightside schedule, because I was doing uplinks for the early evening shows. I got there with a comfortable amount of time to set up the truck and enjoy the view.
Fourchon (pronounced FOO-shawn) is nearly identical to Cameron. The buzz of whirling helicopter blades never fades from hearing for long as they carry workers and supplies over the marshes and out to the petroleum platforms in the Gulf of Mexico. This was my first time on this part of the coast, and I enjoyed the smell of the sea breeze and the cry of the gulls, especially since I didn't have to pay attention to the drone of the politicos under the tent.
After a couple hours of speeches the time finally came to put shovel to freshly poured dirt, accompanied by the requisite applause and punctuated by the clicks and pops of shutters and flashes, while the silent lenses of the video cameras fed images to hungry CCDs. But the feeding didn't stop there. The band in the corner of the tent struck up and the boiled crawfish and shrimp began to flow. I managed to polish off a couple pounds of mudbugs between satellite windows, and even brought home a pound of peeled tail meat. Unfortunately I could have any of the free beer to wash down this sumptuous smorgasbord, because I was still on the clock, in company logowear, and had a three hour drive back to Baton Rouge in a van worth more than 100 grand.
I settled for a Coke and a smile.
Hurricane Fever
We're about two months away from the start of hurricane season, which means we'll be doing stories about it until the first storm makes landfall. Last week, Kenny P and I made an afternoon journey to Morgan City to localize the Hurricane Conference Forcast. With a heavily compressed shooting schedule, I think it came out alright.
Oh, if you're ever down by the floodwall, don't trust your compass. When I finally found the satellite to feed the story back, I was pointing due West, according to my compass. For the record, Galaxy 11 is almost due South. Next time I'll trust my instincts.
Here's the story.
Oh, if you're ever down by the floodwall, don't trust your compass. When I finally found the satellite to feed the story back, I was pointing due West, according to my compass. For the record, Galaxy 11 is almost due South. Next time I'll trust my instincts.
Here's the story.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Congrats?
Though I had little to do with the story, I'm probably gonna be in the promo.
"Didn't you shoot part of the homecoming queen story for Andy?" was the question coming from the other end of the phone. "Yeah, but just the homecoming game and her getting crowned," was my reply. "Why?"
"It won a Murrow."
I said it then, and I'll say it now-the only part I played in this piece was shooting the above mentioned event. I didn't shoot the interviews or the rest of the package, I didn't even edit the story, but I did supply advice on the closing sequence. Since the person responsible for the story has moved on, I guess they needed someone to accept the award, which I will do with all humility.
Congrats to Andy Pepper, though, on his second Murrow in as many years.
Watch the story.
"Didn't you shoot part of the homecoming queen story for Andy?" was the question coming from the other end of the phone. "Yeah, but just the homecoming game and her getting crowned," was my reply. "Why?"
"It won a Murrow."
I said it then, and I'll say it now-the only part I played in this piece was shooting the above mentioned event. I didn't shoot the interviews or the rest of the package, I didn't even edit the story, but I did supply advice on the closing sequence. Since the person responsible for the story has moved on, I guess they needed someone to accept the award, which I will do with all humility.
Congrats to Andy Pepper, though, on his second Murrow in as many years.
Watch the story.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
There and Back Again
Please, Tolkien, don't sue for that headline. I have heard clamoring for a new post, and since it's been two months, I'm waaaay overdue.
A couple of weeks ago I made a trip to the Lone Star State. It was a sports trip to cover the LSU Lady Tiger basketball team, but an easy trip wouldn't make the blog, of course.
Since this was an out of town trip, we were going in Mobile 30, the Deuce's satellite uplink truck. I like Mobile 30, but she had just spent a week in the shop for a major oil leak. We got her back the night before we were to leave, so there was no time for a shakedown. This would prove unfortunate.
I had hoped to leave early enough to avoid rush hour traffic in Houston, so I showed up at the station at 11 am, hoping to leave no later than noon. BD had to shoot Syl and the girls leaving, so we didn't leave until 1:30. That's when I realized that the air conditioner wasn't working. A nine hour trip, and we didn't have A/C, but the weather was cool, so it wouldn't be that bad. "If this is the only problem we have this trip, then I'll take it," I said to BD. Almost prophetic, don't you think? Read on.
We got to Houston at 6 pm...awesome. Forty-five minutes later we were on Hwy. 290 and the last third of our drive, which was rather uneventful. The Doubletree was a great hotel; we were a dozen paces from the fitness room, and a score from the pool. It was also sandwiched between a Pappacito's and a Pappadeaux's restaurants. We were definately eating well on this trip. While it wasn't across the street from the venue, it was only 10 minutes away on I-35, which ran right in front of the hotel.
Friday was our first day in the city, and we discovered that we were just in time for the SXSW (South by Southwest) music festival. I haven't seen that many vehicles hauling trailers since Katrina. Everywhere we walked we saw bands unloading, heard them playing, or saw them packing up. Great if we were looking for bands, but instead we were looking for LSU fans. We didn't find any, so we headed to the Erwin Center. Around 4 pm the press conferences were about to begin, so I headed out to the truck to get it set up for our 6 pm sat shot. I fired up the generator, but as my questing finger reached the first switch, it died, never to run for the duration of the trip.
I knew I had a shore power cable in the back, so I wasn't too worried, I just needed to find an outlet, which was nearby, but no electrons were flowing. The question I got from keepers of the power was "Did you order power?" Hmmm, we have our own generator, so...not really. Finally somone showed up about 5:45 pm. The first window opened at 5:50. We didn't make that one.
Why? When I powered up the racks, they tripped the breaker. I was now participating in The Ken Mattingly Experience. It was just like Apollo 13, except no lives were on the line. Once I got my power-up sequence figured out, I thought I was good to go. But why wasn't the HPA powered up? It's because I only had one circuit powered. I thought the A/C was the only thing on the other circuit, but the HPA is on that one as well. Luckily I was able to borrow one from one of the other trucks there, and got the 6:15 shot up in time.
The rest of the trip was, thankfully, rather uneventful. I saw 'Tim and Eric' who have a show on Cartoon Network, but didn't want to interrupt their meal. The day after we got back, the generator tech showed up to work on it. He got it to start on the first try.
It later died and a faulty fuel pump was found to be the problem. So I wasn't crazy after all.
A couple of weeks ago I made a trip to the Lone Star State. It was a sports trip to cover the LSU Lady Tiger basketball team, but an easy trip wouldn't make the blog, of course.
Since this was an out of town trip, we were going in Mobile 30, the Deuce's satellite uplink truck. I like Mobile 30, but she had just spent a week in the shop for a major oil leak. We got her back the night before we were to leave, so there was no time for a shakedown. This would prove unfortunate.
I had hoped to leave early enough to avoid rush hour traffic in Houston, so I showed up at the station at 11 am, hoping to leave no later than noon. BD had to shoot Syl and the girls leaving, so we didn't leave until 1:30. That's when I realized that the air conditioner wasn't working. A nine hour trip, and we didn't have A/C, but the weather was cool, so it wouldn't be that bad. "If this is the only problem we have this trip, then I'll take it," I said to BD. Almost prophetic, don't you think? Read on.
We got to Houston at 6 pm...awesome. Forty-five minutes later we were on Hwy. 290 and the last third of our drive, which was rather uneventful. The Doubletree was a great hotel; we were a dozen paces from the fitness room, and a score from the pool. It was also sandwiched between a Pappacito's and a Pappadeaux's restaurants. We were definately eating well on this trip. While it wasn't across the street from the venue, it was only 10 minutes away on I-35, which ran right in front of the hotel.
Friday was our first day in the city, and we discovered that we were just in time for the SXSW (South by Southwest) music festival. I haven't seen that many vehicles hauling trailers since Katrina. Everywhere we walked we saw bands unloading, heard them playing, or saw them packing up. Great if we were looking for bands, but instead we were looking for LSU fans. We didn't find any, so we headed to the Erwin Center. Around 4 pm the press conferences were about to begin, so I headed out to the truck to get it set up for our 6 pm sat shot. I fired up the generator, but as my questing finger reached the first switch, it died, never to run for the duration of the trip.
I knew I had a shore power cable in the back, so I wasn't too worried, I just needed to find an outlet, which was nearby, but no electrons were flowing. The question I got from keepers of the power was "Did you order power?" Hmmm, we have our own generator, so...not really. Finally somone showed up about 5:45 pm. The first window opened at 5:50. We didn't make that one.
Why? When I powered up the racks, they tripped the breaker. I was now participating in The Ken Mattingly Experience. It was just like Apollo 13, except no lives were on the line. Once I got my power-up sequence figured out, I thought I was good to go. But why wasn't the HPA powered up? It's because I only had one circuit powered. I thought the A/C was the only thing on the other circuit, but the HPA is on that one as well. Luckily I was able to borrow one from one of the other trucks there, and got the 6:15 shot up in time.
The rest of the trip was, thankfully, rather uneventful. I saw 'Tim and Eric' who have a show on Cartoon Network, but didn't want to interrupt their meal. The day after we got back, the generator tech showed up to work on it. He got it to start on the first try.
It later died and a faulty fuel pump was found to be the problem. So I wasn't crazy after all.
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