Season on the Brink

Somewhere in America, an account executive is dreaming of life as a photojournalist. So it is really a shock that I spend four months a year fantasizing about making cold calls from the sanctity of an air-conditioned cubicle? Because I do. Don't get me wrong; I've ridden this planet around the sun enough times to know the grass is greener on the other side of the horizon. But with every humid June that arrives, I find myself questioning my (lack of) career path. Of course, those particular pangs of regret usually overtake me as I'm trudging through the jungle under a heavy load, Drug bust, state park profile, cadaver dog foot chase: the mission doesn't really matter. For once the very air turns aquarium sludge, I yearn for a term inside some politician's office, where the only hot air is that nonsense that spews from the cake-hole of whatever blowhard who just finished texting his wang to his every constituent. That's heat I can take. The hairdryer to the face sensation that is a Carolina Summer? Not so much. I don't know about where YOU live, but here in the Tar Heel state, Spring slams shut in the middle of May and until October, you think about your underwear about every fifteen minutes.

Why's that? Because, be it boxers or brief, the waistband of your skivvies seeps into your spleen. And while we're on the subject of sartorial swelter, can I just say I may be the one TV news photog who doesn't really like casual attire? Now I'm no clothes horse, but well into my middle age, I hoped I wouldn't have to spend half the calendar year dressed like a third grader on his first field trip. Oh, why can't I be fly? I'll tell ya why: I'm a sweater. No, not one of those horrible crocheted numbers foisted upon you every December by your Aunt Hilda. I'm talkin' transudation. See, as a fairly furry forty-four year old father, I can perspire with the best of them. Truth is, I sweat like a fat man zipped into a gorilla suit. It's embarrassing, really. I've had total strangers hand me their bottle of water, for fear the cameraman may soon pass out.  I never do, but if ever did drop, I'd spend my delirium flitting about some imaginary office park dressed to the nines and coiffed like a werewolf. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go lay out my Garanimals for the morning and crank the A/C to eleven. Then I'm gonna make sweet love to the ice maker. Heh, like YOU'VE never done that!

Early Herd Gets the Worm

Photo by Chad Tucker, Esquire

Perhaps the coolest thing about the crush of cameras outside John Edwards' indictment hearing is the fact that I wasn't there. (Instead, I was thirty minutes away,babysitting a big ole hole in a nearby Apple Store and wondering where in the hell everybody was. Now, I see.) That, friends, is a respectable collection of press representatives - one befitting a visiting prince, a shackled Sasquatch, or some preening worm who cheated on his dying wife with a (GASP!) vid-ee-OG-ruh-fer. That's right, I - like most North Carolinians - consider John Edwards to be a nothing short of a greasy orifice. Back when he was a media darling, we'd travel to his hometown of Robbins for a chat with his longtime supporters. There were none. Then there was the time I waited outside the Koury Convention Center for his limo to arrive. When it did, he bounded out, all teeth, dimples and feathered bangs. I didn't like him then. I don't like him now. Of course you might think my low opinion of the man would compel me to be present when a Federal judge laid six hefty charges on him. You'd be wrong.

See, a scrum of that number doesn't form without a few bumped shots and bruised egos along the way. Be it for a fallen lawyer or rising Idol, reception parties of that magnitude usually devolve into madness. Especially when man in the middle of it all stops for a few more seconds of face time. That's just what Edwards did today and while the world may have hung on his every syllable, I spent the interview scanning the backdrop for familiar, pain-racked faces. There - among the out of town stringers and network jet-setters - that guy ... who I see every week but whose name I've never learned. He looks...constipated. And over there, in front of that dude on the ten foot ladder, it's El Ocho's own Joe McCloskey! Why, he must be positively entranced with the political drama at hand, thrilled to be a part of tar Heel history, breathless with anticipation at what scandalous nugget will be revealed when Mr. Aqua-net emerges from the Hall of Justice. Isn't that right, Joe? ... Joe? 

"I was staking out one entrance for two hours, Duffer was at another one, and the Chief showed up and thirty seconds later... Johnny walked past his camera."

Ahhh, spoken like a seasoned professional who'd rather be anywhere but in the middle of it all. He should have joined me at the Apple hole. Chick Fil-A showed up and handed out free sandwiches. You don't get THAT at federal indictments. Do you?

After the Interview...

Yeah, just surf around for a minute so I can get some video... Hmm? Doesn't matter what you click on I won't show the screen. I'll shoot that back at the studio so I can get all fish-eye on it. No, I just need you to act like my kids and ignore me. Just sit there and click around, never the mind the fact that a strange cameraman is hovering over you, zooming in on your every eyebrow twitch, isolating your least favorite body part. Don't be nervous. I'm not. In fact, I once shadowed a group of street performers as they prepared to jump a nearby mime and I never once broke a sweat. Hmm? I dunno - I think he was selling weed on their turf. Just do me a favor and don't look at ME, look at the COMPUTER. You can play Angry Birds on that thing, I don't care. Just give me a few seconds of silent focus or else my entire lower body's gonna fall asleep. You know, I once wanted to make movies, but then life and lack of talent kicked me square in the 'nads...now I'm here with you. Just feel lucky I don't make you do one of those weird walks to nowhere, 'cause people hate that. Hey, ya know what I hate? Folks who don't trust the cameraman when he says 'act natural'. If you'll do just that. I'll be out of here and making love to a drive-thru value meal before you can power down that laptop. Trust me. I'm a professional. I've shot chopper landings with no viewfinder, ant farm conventions without a tripod and Presidential debates without the proper press pass. I got this. Just do me a favor and stop looking over here. I got an early morning live shot tomorrow and I'm going to need some sleep before I get up and mismatch my sweatsocks... No? Can't even pretend for a moment that I'm not here? Tell ya what, sport. Just go down to the end of the hallway and walk back toward me all natural like. I probably won't even use it. Hmm? What should you do with your hands? Uh, grab a clipboard and radiate importance. Just...walk. I'll be wedged in that corner by the ferns, wishing I'd paid more attention in high school. You can act like my guidance counselor and ignore me. I'm begging you - please!

The Raddest Catch

Richard Adkins works well with anchors...

Turnstile etiquette at the DMV, a recent dearth of butter-beans, fresh outrage over inner city sidewalk height ... the stuff we cover will put you under. But every once in a while something cataclysmic happens and you just happen to be there with a viewfinder in your face. Such was the case Friday when nothing less than Blackbeard’s anchor (BLACKBEARD'S ANCHOR!) broke the surface and to my eternal regret, I wasn’t there to receive it. Richard "RAD" Adkins was, however, but he explains below how he nearly wasn’t.

We ALMOST blew this assignment off.... other pressing issues, holiday weekend, short staff due to vacations... Glad we didn't. Once the Anchor actually broke the Water's surface, I thought Man! Just like in the Popeye Funnies! Is was a stereo typical old fashion anchor. And covered with just what you'd think, right out of the Dead Man's Chest. Once on board, a star fish actually fell off the thing. We has some decent waves on the trip out, and a few fellow media types started getting green... Once we arrived on site and started to drift, I overheard the captain ask a mate to "Pour some Tide down the head to reduce the fumes", I assume someone got sick in there. There are a few stories I get geek about... this was one, once I got a good look at the anchor and realized just how cool it was to be that close to Blackbeard's ship, I did get someone to take a picture of me with the anchor. It proves I'm a goober, but hey, At least my daughter thinks I'm cool.

As do we, Adkins. As do we.

End of the Innocence

Next Stop: Rehab... Alfonzo and Scotty

One's a fresh faced country crooner, the other's a mustachioed videotape. Together they're gonna take on the mob, raise an adorable orphan and crash every wedding from here to Gardenia! Okay, so I don't know the exact pitch, but I guaran-damn-tee you Alfonzo Beta suggested some kind of buddy pic project to our newly ordained American Idol. Ya know, Scotty McCreery seemed like a nice kid when we cornered him in Garner last week. It's a shame to see him hanging with skeevy show-biz types so soon after his coronation. Then again, it's impossible to dodge this bright yellow gadfly. For years now, he's skirted the edges of Hollywood, never letting the fact that he's an old Sony SX tape with a scribbled-on face stop him from hoping on private jets, cadging free drinks and bedding the occasional starlet. Now, he's gotten to Scottie. I just hope our teenage phenom was able to shake him. See, Alfonzo left a wife and a couple of Mini-DV's back in Sacramento and he's known to stay out all night clubbing with little regard to his state of rewind. That may be fine for an industry standard, but young Mr. McCreery needs a healthier influence if he's gonna survive the pitfalls of sudden stardom... I wonder if Charlie Sheen is available?

Paging Ned Beatty...

Modified technology ROCKS(!), but occasionally those radical new gadgets spawn strange and ugly phenomena. Such is the case with the latest lens to take TV crews by storm. I'm talking about GoPro Face. You know, the first frames of video retrieved from those fantastic new POV cameras. Invariably, the first thing you see upon upload is a quizzical, squinting grimace; a pained expression on a photog's face that screams "IS THIS THING ON? Lately, it's even been capturing talent. How else to explain the look of constipation on Chad Tucker's face as I attached a station-owned GoPro to a free-range kayak the other day. If my good man appears distressed, it's only because he's got a camera between his legs. Me, I look worried because I am. All I could envision as I blessed the camera's suction cup was Chad thwacking it into the drink with his mad oar-fu skills. Fortunately, all went swimmingly. Chad paddled, I perched high above on a shaky bridge and everyone's favorite dashboard cam stayed mercifully above the waterline. WHEW! Now, if we could just attach one of those puppies to a toy helicopter, I might not be needed at all! On second thought, scratch that. I live with teenage daughters, which means I need each and every paid safari I can swing. Besides, no troubled shoot, twisted gizmo or horny mutant redneck packs half the peril of a walk-in closet stocked by a Justin Beiber fan.  Now hand me that banjo, wouldya? The locals are getting restless.

Kevin Johnson: Towering Still

I look UP to Kevin Johnson - and not just because he's six and a half feet tall. No, the local news photog who launched a globally known website has impressed me simply by the way he handles his business, from providing an on-line watering hole for TV photogs to backing that concept up with free beer and fellowship at his annual b-roll bash. Thrice now I've attended that event and I always come away nursing a righteous hangover and a great deal of respect for the towering figure with the unending grin and suitcase full of free t-shirts. But Kevin's influence on news-makers goes well beyond the logowear he foists on tipsy photogs every year. His core creation, b-roll.net, has provided an invaluable source of information and empathy for a group of people unaccustomed to feelings of community. And he's down it all without ever beating his chest about it. No heroic portraits, glowing profiles or extended self-exams litter his site. Instead you'll only find a vibrant community of seasoned pros and neophytes, riffing on the biz from every angle while taking shelter in the house that Kev built. You'd think a guy like that might lord his influence over his minions...

But you'd be wrong.

Back when the web was stilled called things like 'the information superhighway', a vital pit-stop popped up on the horizon. B-roll.net, a website named for an old film term, offered TV insider tips and tricks as well as a fledgling message board. That 'board' provided a forum like no other, a cyber-spot where veteran staffers, freelancers and an endless parade of wide-eyed rookies could swap war stories and stroke their egos. Perhaps that last part spoke to me, for soon I was contributing grist and calling myself 'Lenslinger'.  Kevin liked my stories and he told me so. That early encouragement led me to believe  there might be something there and I found myself writing more and more. Long before the word 'blog' ever crossed my mind, Lenslinger sprung to life on an industry message board that suddenly everyone was reading. Quite simply, b-roll.net changed my life for the better. When I met Kevin a couple of years later in D.C., my goal was to thank him. But a few minutes in his company left me less focused on the website and more impressed with the man. Like I said, Kevin's impossibly tall with a rich baritone and unassuming manner. The way he dodged praise and deflected credit told me a lot about the guy and over the next few years we both enjoyed knocking back a cocktail or two in the name of news. Across the country and beyond our shores, other photogs benefited from his energy as well - even those who've never come close to meeting him.

Which is why Monday's news of Kevin's heart attack was so hard to process.

When word broke that the patron saint of photogs everywhere was in critical condition at George Washington University Hospital, a nation full of crusty bastards reeled in disbelief. Kev's a young guy, seemingly fit and bereft of the bad habits that plague so many camera junkies. While that's not enough to guarantee good health, it seemed impossible that our towering benefactor is in any way down. But he is. Which is why I'm asking you to summon up any prayers, good vibrations and positive energy you have in you and direct it to our nation's capital, where a lanky leader of a thousand crusty souls could really use the help. Kevin Johnson has elevated our profession in a most unassuming way. He's provided a gathering spot, allowed others to shine and made our fractious world of newsrooms, live trucks and crime scenes a good deal more bearable. Right now his lovely wife Clare is holding up strong and I hope she knows a nation of news shooters has her back. As for Kevin, here's hoping all that good karma he's created will visit him tenfold. Get better, Kevin. We ain't done yet. 

UPDATE! Kevin's wife Clare just reported that Kevin is awake! Kevin experienced a dramatic and wonderful period of responsiveness this evening. The medical staff temporarily reduced the level of paralytics and Kevin began to move, opened his eyes and was clearly aware. It is too early to say what this means for Kevin's recovery, but it is safe to say there was loud and tearful rejoicing on the fourth floor ICU at GW.

UPDATE!! After 48 hours of somber visits with doctors and far more questions than answers, the doctors have told Kevin's wife Clare that they are, "preparing for the best possible outcome." The medical team is being very cautious and there is a lot they still don't know about Kevin's condition, the damage done by the cardiac arrest, and how his recovery will progress from here, but they said, "It's a really good starting point." The neurological team will begin to assess Kevin as early as today and doctors have mentioned the possibility of removing Kevin's breathing tube.

UPDATE!!! The family got their first glimpse of the old Kevin on Sunday. Kevin is having CONVERSATIONS with everyone, seems to recognize them, and has…A SENSE OF HUMOR! Now that’s signature Kevin! Less than a week after doubtful doctors were trying to prepare the family for the worst, Kevin is proving them wrong with the best progress anyone could have imagined at this point.

UPDATE!!!! One week after he was first rushed to George Washington University Hospital, Kevin was able to sit in a chair! He has a lovely view from the 4th floor of the ICU and has spent much of the day near the window looking out at the courtyard and trees. Kevin recognizes his visitors, engages them in conversation, and is cracking jokes. He remains weak and sleepy, but is a sight for sore eyes to Clare, their family, and the friends that surround him. Kevin is getting his first nourishment courtesy of a feeding tube and relished his first ice chips today! Doctors want to make sure he can safely swallow before we start bringing him chicken nuggets - one of his faves! Tomorrow Kevin will have an exploratory procedure to assess the condition of his heart and surgeons may implant a portable defibrillator in Kevin's chest. Weeks of recovery and rehab lie ahead, but the incredible and consistent strides Kevin is making every day continue to astound us all.

UPDATE!!!!! Clare reports both the heart catheter to look for blockages or problems in Kevin's heart (none found!) and the placing of an implantable cardioverter defibrillator or ICD in Kevin's chest went well today. Neurological testing continues and, while hearing Kevin talk and joke is comforting and a cause for celebration, it could be some time before the extent of the damage and the potential for a full recovery will be known. There is still a long road ahead and the family appreciates your support and well wishes as Kevin continues to recover.

UPDATE!!!!!! Kevin truly is an overnight sensation! *Clare reports a lot of progress since yesterday: Kevin has been moved from the ICU to the cardiac unit, one floor down. He is eating solid food - and what a feast it was: apple sauce, mac and cheese and a turkey sandwich! And he's been sitting in the chair again. And...drumroll, please...Kevin isn't connected to any machines! Kevin will try walking for the first time tomorrow and doctors say he could be heading home by next week. Another great day at GW for Kevin and Clare - who deserves special mention here: With the exception of going home for a few hours of restless sleep each night, Clare has been by Kevin's side since the moment he collapsed. From holding his hand those first awful days, to comforting him as he regained consciousness, to greeting and consoling his visitors and answering countless emails and phone calls - she has been there. From calling 911 and performing CPR to planning for his rehab, Clare, too, has been through an incredible ordeal and will also need time to heal, recover, and readjust. She is included in our prayers and well wishes, as are Kevin's mother and father, his brother and sister-in-law, and his mother-in-law and father-in-law.