A Tale Of Two Messages – II

Since I beat myself up when wrong…

Yesterday I wrote and quoted a viewer who was incensed I’d broken into a ‘soap’ for tornado coverage.

We are so tired of hearing these false alarm weather reports. Every time it’s a normal storm becomes a tornado watch. Are you serious people? You’re gonna scare the hell out of old people.

Since I beat myself up when wrong…

000
NOUS41 KOKX 251619 CCA
PNSOKX
CTZ005>012-NJZ002>006-011-NYZ067>081-261200-

PUBLIC INFORMATION STATEMENT…CORRECTED
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE NEW YORK NY
1151 AM EDT FRI JUN 25 2010

…NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE CONFIRMS TORNADO IN BRIDGEPORT
CONNECTICUT…

LOCATION…BRIDGEPORT. BRIEF TOUCHDOWN ON MAIN STREET…NICHOLS
STREET…AND CEDAR STREET…1 BLOCK NORTH OF INTERSTATE 95.
ESTIMATED TIME…230 PM
EF-SCALE RATING…EF1
ESTIMATED WIND SPEED…100 MPH
PATH WIDTH…100 YARDS
PATH LENGTH…0.15 MILES

THE DAMAGE REPORTED IN EASTON AND TRUMBULL WAS ASSOCIATED WITH
STRAIGHT LINE WIND DAMAGE AND IS NOT CONSISTENT WITH DAMAGE CREATED
BY A TORNADO

.15 miles is a little less than 800 feet or nearly three times the distance of a football field. In a densely packed city a path that length covers lot of people and property. Thankfully no one was killed and injuries were light.

A Tale Of Two Messages

For instance here’s the transcript from a voicemail I received. It was sent during a live wall-to-wall cut-in. A tornado warning was in effect.

We had some dicey weather in the state today. Tornado warnings went up between 2:00 and 3:00 PM.

We were on it at work, but who at home is really prepared for the possibility of tornadoes? People watch and hear my words, but how they react is anyone’s guess.

For instance here’s the transcript from a voicemail I received. It was sent during a live wall-to-wall cut-in. A tornado warning was in effect.

We are so tired of hearing these false alarm weather reports. Every time it’s a normal storm becomes a tornado watch. Are you serious people? You’re gonna scare the hell out of old people.

We pre-empted “One Life To Live.” This guy must be a big fan!

I’m not sure it was a tornado. Probably.

At Bridgeport the wind gusted to 75 mph at 2:23PM, then six minutes later to 78 mph. If memory serves me (and my friend Bob who tipped me off) that’s the highest officially recorded gust since Hurricane Gloria in 1985.

We’ll know better tomorrow when the Weather Service takes its survey and makes the official declaration.

In the end though what difference does it make? The damage was as bad as anything a tornado causes.

Not long after the voicemail I got this plain email.

Geoff: This may be silly but you are being talked about with a lot of admiration today. I’m in Rochester, NY and a viewer of yours wrote on a soap board how you came on TV during One Life To Live to talk about a possible tornado warning. You APOLOGIZED for interrupting the show. This never, never happens. And we often talk about how the soap fans are treated with such a lack of respect by television reporters. They interrupt the soaps when they would never interrupt a sporting event. I just wanted to thank you from here in Rochester, NY for respecting the soap viewer. It is much appreciated and you are becoming a hero on the board.

Maybe I should send her to the phone message guy?

Something I’d Like To Do

There’s something I’ve wanted to do since getting heavily into photography. I don’t know how to go about making it happen so I’ll throw it out here with the thought one of you can help.

I’d like to go out with the “harbor pilot” as he meets a large ship and brings it into New Haven, New London or Bridgeport.

I would guess there’s some sort of “at sea” transfer to get from the little pilot boat to the big ship. OK–that part’s a little scary, but I’d do it to get my shots.

Can you help? Let me know.

Where You’re From

Helaine started it with a couch conversation Sunday evening. She wondered, as I had in the past, where were you while you were reading this blog? The numbers are in, and I’m a little surprised.

About 100 of you have left a note on my website over the past few days, telling me where you are. Since I average over 1,000 page reads a day, it’s a significant, though not overpowering percentage of my readers. 59 of that group are reading in Connecticut.

That Connecticut number is a stunner, because website stat programs paint a very different picture. I tried to address this a few days ago and was a little confusing. Two of you responded, though it seems my poor choice of words let you miss the point.

Most ‘regular’ readers come in through the home page (or read my most recent entries through my RSS feed using Yahoo!, Google or an installed feed reader). Most out-of-state readers are probably here after following a search engine link which brought them to an older entry. They never saw my home page or my request.

Most of you (not all of you) know me from my job on TV. I’m not sure how that will affect my writing going forward… if it affects it at all. I already parse my words, remaining ever alert that what I say on my private website can reflect on my very public life.

A number of the respondents left their web address. That gave me a chance to take a peek at them.

Marko in Dayton, Ohio also has a blog – though no entries since April. He has built some pretty cool Pinewood Derby race cars with his son, referred to as “#2.”

Doug Harris is also a blogger and also stopped blogging in April. Did something happen in April I didn’t hear about?

Mike, in Arlington, VA has a website with a cool name: RadioMojo. His home page explains he’ll no longer be doing whatever it was RadioMojo did. Its date: April 25th.

You can’t make this stuff up.

A reader name Mumbles linked to his photos on Flickr. There’s a lot to like here. I enjoy looking at other photographers work, trying to find ways to improve mine.

I wonder if Mumbles knew I’d look at his work… or guessed I’d tell you to look? He probably wanted me to look at them. Mission accomplished.

Chuck Schultz sent his photo link too. He’s into racing cars and dogs. You can tell a lot about a person by their photos. Dogs are very photogenic. They never mind posing nor care if you take too many photos.

I wonder if there was a downside to growing up as Charles Schultz… but not ‘the’ Charles Schultz.

Chuck is a ham operator. There are a bunch of them here. I wrote an article recently in the national ham radio magazine, QST. I’m sure that brought some of them to my site.

Jeff in Muncie, Indiana is a ham too, with a blog and a podcast. That’s an undertaking. I listened to some of his latest entry about Hiram Percy Maxim, in many ways the father of ham radio. The podcast sounds like the kind of first class radio production you often hear on NPR.

Jeff has links on his blog… though none to me. I like links.

Am I boring you? You don’t have to read this if I’m boring you.

My father left a message. My sister left a message. My cousin left a message.

Meredith has put much of her life online in a free form way. That’s how this website started, but I found it too difficult to be free form on the web, which cries out for structure.

John, from “The new and exciting Bridgeport, CT” linked to his family’s website. I like this idea a lot, but I like reading “Christmas letters”.

My friend Kevin’s family just put up a family blog with my help. With four girls out in the world, often away from their Connecticut roots, their blog promises to keep the family closer.

Adam left a link for his blog. It is the antithesis of this one in that I have long entries while Adam is often satisfied with a few words or a sentence.

I like his reference to your worst hair decision ever.

When I was a kid, a new barber-in-training cut my hair so short that even pre-teen Geoff knew he was in trouble. I’m still cringing over that. The guy who owned the shop told me to come back in a few days and the hair would have grown back enough to repair the damage.

More recently, a news director sent me to her hair stylist, who proceeded to make me look like Lyle Lovett. Even Lyle Lovett doesn’t want to look like Lyle Lovett. And, I still had to wear the hair on-the-air. Mortifying!

Damon Scott checked in from Lubbock, TX. I’ve written about Lubbock a lot recently, because of the TV Guide Channel reality show about a Lubbock newsroom. They seem to be in reruns, because the DVR hasn’t recorded anything the last two weeks.

Damon is a jock, doing afternoon drive on Mix100. His photo is nowhere to be found on the station’s website. I looked. I always look for disk jockey photos.

When I was a disk jockey, I used to answer the ‘hitline’ trying to pick up girls who were calling to request songs. My first day in radio (really) I got a call from Jeanine, who told me about the sexual failings of a station’s newsman.

There is a medical term to describe his unfortunate haste. Jeanine was a little more blunt.

Damon – don’t pick up hitline chicks.

Actually, maybe they email photos first now? Damon, use your best judgment.

McD is another blogger who wrote back. His home page has a very nice line drawing of him (I think) in the upper left corner.

There’s something very folksy about the sketch. If it’s possible to make a web page folksy, it’s mission accomplished by virtue of this little sketch.

You told me where you were and you told me from all over the United States. Most responses came from people I don’t know, though there are many readers who I count in my extended group of friends.

Seamus. Ireland. Cool. Thanks. I even know how to properly pronounce it! You are are token foreigner,

As long as you’ve read this far, I’ll let you in on something. I really enjoy knowing you read this.

Though smaller, by far, than the audience I reach on television, this is a much more personal medium. I try to speak my mind and hope you will still think kindly of me even as I reveal myself as a guy lots of faults and insecurities.

I worry you’ll tire of me, or I’ll become boring to you. I want to stay fresh and write meaningful things, but is that possible when you force yourself to compose at the keyboard every single day? I don’t know.

More than one a friend in LA has picked up on something trivial I’ve written about and said, “no one wants to know you ate corn last night.” We depend on our friends for life’s true wisdom.

At the bottom of this screen and on every computer I use on a regular basis, there is a counter. Every 15 or 20 minutes it tallies the page hits to my website. I look at it all the time.

At 3:00 AM EDT it resets to zero. I don’t like that part.

Another Funeral

This is a first. For the second day in a row, Helaine and I attended a funeral service. Our neighbor’s mother passed away last week and tonight was the service.

We headed to Bridgeport and the Messiah Baptist Church.

Messiah Baptist is a mainly black congregation in what has become a primarily black and Hispanic city. Its service couldn’t have been any more different than the Mormon funeral we attended yesterday.

Both sanctuaries were ‘clean’ in design with little ostentation. The Baptist church featured a large cross and raised rows behind the pulpit for their choir. At the Mormon branch, there was neither. I’m sure that’s by design.

The lay ministers at my friend Kevin’s funeral were dressed in business suits. The reverend at tonight’s service wore a clerical robe. The choir was dressed as well.

I have been to very few black churches, but I anticipated the choir and was not disappointed. The singers were seniors, but their voices were strong and their harmonies tight.

Reverend Elizabeth Jones, who officiated, was an impassioned speaker. It would have been impossible to not pay attention. She was high energy.

Helaine said, you’d never be able to fall asleep at this church! That’s the truth.

As with last night, I felt satisfied our neighbor’s mom’s life had been properly celebrated. She was a known quantity within this church community. The people involved in the service knew her well.

She had been a an active member of the church and part of a family that broke down racial barriers. Reverend Jones called her “a steadfast servant,” and explained why, while referencing a short bible passage from Luke.

I am sorry for the deaths that brought us to these funerals, but I really am glad I attended both. It was like amateur anthropology, as I tried to understand how and why things were done in settings that were mostly foreign to me.

In both cases the bottom line was the same. Here is a person who led a righteous life and will now join God. That they both took such different paths to get to the same place was what made it so fascinating.

If it’s OK with everyone, I’d like this to be the last funeral for a really long time.

Quoted In The Post

I got a call last week. It was Charlie Walsh from the Connecticut Post in Bridgeport. He, like so many others, had seen AccuWeather’s latest press release, featuring Joe Bastardi’s call for the remainder of winter, and wanted to discuss it.

I didn’t demure!

“While I’m not saying he’s wrong,” said WTNH-TV’s Geoff Fox, “call me a skeptic.”

Fox pointed to Bastardi’s prediction in October of last year that the coming winter would be “cooler than normal.”

“I think the tendency of people is to hear [Bastardi’s] predictions without considering his past accuracy,” Fox said.

Here’s the story from Saturday’s paper.

Continue reading “Quoted In The Post”

Hey – They Called Me A Meteorologist

I’ve been quoted on-and-off in the New Haven Register for years. Today was the first time since my studies at MSU ended, and so the first time to be called “meteorologist.”

The storm, which brought winds clocked as high as 68 miles per in Oxford, coincided with record warmth for this time of year. At 9:32 a.m., it was 60 degrees at Sikorsky Memorial Airport in Bridgeport, shattering the previous 1999 record of 55 degrees by five degrees, said WTNH-TV meteorologist Geoff Fox.

But with all that wind, “I don

Thanksgiving Recap

I am just beginning to reenter the world of the living. Going to New York was a major shock to my system because of the one day schedule upheaval. I went to work a few hours before I normally wake up.

It was well worth it. Make no mistake about that. I had a great time, in spite of the weather.

Steffie accepted my offer and came along. While I caught a few hours sleep Wednesday evening, she decided to just stretch her day. By 1:15 AM Thanksgiving morning we were getting into a town car for the ride to Manhattan.

The ride started under cloudy skies, but by the time we got to Bridgeport, it was snowing. The snow was light at first, but before the New York line it was covering the road.

The town car blasted along between 65 and 75. I was beginning to get a little panicky. I didn’t want us to be the first Thanksgiving highway statistic!

As we moved through Westchester and into the Bronx, the snow turned to sleet and quickly to rain. Now the highway was just wet.

I asked the driver to stick to the West Side because I assumed some streets would be closed for parade preparations. We headed down the Henry Hudson Parkway, past the beautiful George Washington Bridge. At night the lattice of the bridge’s towers are lit, making it look like a gigantic model bridge. It’s too good looking to be real or functional.

Traffic was light as we transitioned from the Henry Hudson to the West Side Highway. We were doing 74 mph when the cop caught us on radar!

I’ve never been pulled over in New York. It’s an experience. There’s no shoulder on the highway to safely stop, so the cop called through a loudspeaker, telling us to pull off at the next exit.

I got antsy and wanted to intercede. Steffie, wisely, kept me in check. As it turned out, the limo driver had things well in control.

Unbeknown to us, he had a small metal NYPD shield in his wallet. His cousin is a cop in Midtown Manhattan (or so he said – does it really matter). Under the unwritten law of professional courtesy, the officer acted angry, asked the driver if he knew how fast he was going and then walked away. Just like that. Holy cow – those things do work!

My instructions from ABC said to meet at 79th Street and Central Park West. There was no way to drive there, so we got out at 77th and Columbus.

IMG_3112I talked my way past a young guy standing security at Columbus Avenue, only to get questioned again at Central Park West. This person was tall, unhappy, and actually speaking into his wrist! When I asked if he was with the police or Macy’s he said, “Both.”

He was a little more thorough, wanting to see some ID. I don’t have an NYPD press pass, but I did have my Channel 8 ID. He looked at it for a few milliseconds and said OK – but he’d accompany us.

We headed uptown, past workers getting ready to march. We walked by the stately, somewhat Goth, Museum of Natural History. When we got to the next corner it was 81st Street.

There is no 79th and Central Park West! Uh oh.

I called Chika, my producer. She too was on her way. She asked me to stay put until she got there. Steffie and I stood under my umbrella in the rain. We were next to the Manhattan North command post and there was a constant buzz of activity.

When Chika got there, we realized not only was there no 79th and CPW – there was no live truck! I was standing there wondering if we’d get on the air at all. That thought only lasted a few seconds, because this type of logistical miscue happens all the time. Somehow, it always works… well almost always.

IMG_3014The truck ended up on Park Drive South, with a long cable run to the parade. The photographer, Mark, set up and we were ready to go.

Before leaving Connecticut I had cut the audio for a package on the parade. That track was for timing. Now, in the truck, using the strangest looking microphone I’d even seen, I recut it with better audio.

Along the curb, camera after camera after camera set up. All the local New York stations were there, as was GMA (ABC, but separate from us) and Today.

As shot, each reporter stood with the street behind him. Truth is, we were all shoulder-to-shoulder-to shoulder.

IMG_3083Let me take a second to apologize for anyone near me Thanksgiving morning. I project… OK, I am loud. It must have been tough for the reporters next to me, because I’m sure they heard me. Disconcerting, no doubt.

I cut a tag for World News Now, ABC’s overnight show, and then the live shots began.

It didn’t begin smoothly. The IFB system (IFB for interrupt feedback, describes the communications system that allows me to hear both the TV station in another city and its producer) was flawed. I was hearing a few syllables at a time and then silence. Something was there, but it wasn’t usable.

The first few live shots ended up being me fronting my package without interaction with the local anchors. I couldn’t speak with them, because I couldn’t hear them.

It wasn’t long before the IFB was squared away and we started ‘servicing the affiliates.&#185’

IMG_3090Here’s how it works. Chika speaks to the producer via cellphone. My IFB gets switched so I can hear their ‘air.’ We go over the names of the anchors and who I’ll be speaking with. Sometimes, if while waiting to go on I hear a weather forecaster mention local weather, I’d ask Chika to get his/her name.

Once on, I ad libbed a little about what was going on and then tossed to the package. On the way out I’d talk about the forecast of wind or let the anchors see the new Scooby Doo balloon resting across the street.

We did live hit after live hit after live hit. Sixteen separate shots over the morning. It was great!

I suppose you might say I’m a live TV slut. It’s a rush – a seat of the pants experience each and every time. I have called it crack for middle aged white guys.

IMG_3030After it was all done, the folks at ABC NewsOne thanked me. I appreciate that. But, the truth is, maybe they were doing me the favor. It’s a job I enjoy doing and they gave me the opportunity to do it from a great location, on a fun story, on stations all across the country.

The icing on the cake was going there with Steffie. I introduced her early on as my daughter. As the morning wore on, and other people came and went, she was just accepted as part of our crew. It’s nice to see her as a grownup and to see other people see her that way.

Liveshot rundown:

-- 0430 World News This Morning

-- 0515 WFTV - Orlando

-- 0545 WJLA - Washington

-- 0550 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0615 WFTV - Orlando

-- 0620 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0640 WCPO - Cincinnati

-- 0645 WJLA - Washington

-- 0650 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0705 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0720 WLS - Chicago

-- 0740 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0800 KABC - Los Angeles

-- 0820 KXTV - Sacramento

-- 0840 KNXV - Phoenix

-- 0900 KABC - Los Angeles

&#185 – When I ran into Al Roker and told him I was there ‘servicing the affiliates’, we both smiled. It does have that stud horse implication.

Stuffed At Oak Lane

Originally uploaded by geoff_fox.

Every year, just before Thanksgiving, Oak Lane Country Club throws a party for kids from New Haven, Bridgeport and The Valley. It’s a lot of fun. The club hires a disk jockey and the members act as waiters. Everyone eats as though food will never be seen again.

The kids have the best time, but everyone there feels good about it.

In the past there have been sports celebs and players. Tonight it was George Foster, former Met, and from my thirty seconds with him – nice guy.

I was there with Keith Kountz, one of our anchors. We went through the crowd, shaking hands and saying hello. I’m not sure how many 8-13 year olds watch the news, but I know they like me when it snows and school is closed.

I started doing this because Alex, manager of the club, had been very nice to me. Tonight I found out Alex wasn’t doing very well. That was not good news. I hope and pray, but I’m worried.

Like I said, I do it every year… and feel good doing it every time.

Hurricane Gloria – 20 Years Ago Today

I came to Connecticut in May 1984. I thought I did a good job on the air, but being a little over-the-top was the only way I stood out from my competitors.

All that changed September 27, 1985 when Hurricane Gloria made landfall in Connecticut.

For me, it was a career changing event. It was a chance to let people know, though I might screw around when the weather was nice, I was trustworthy when weather was critical. At least that’s how I saw it.

1984 doesn’t seem so long ago, but it was eons ago in technology and forecasting technique. The possibility of this hurricane came up in a conversation five days before landfall. A friend noted an interesting system and some rudimentary computer guidance brought it vaguely up the coast.

As I remember it today, each successive day continued with the storm on a fairly consistent track.

Looking back, I realize I was a sucker. These forecasts were well beyond the capability of the available models. That they were right was dumb luck!

A few days before Gloria struck, I started sharing my concerns with my boss and he put together a plan. Again, in hindsight we were so innocent. Today, wall-to-wall coverage would begin days before the storm struck. In 1985, with the storm due midday, we planned on running Good Morning America in its entirety!

I stayed after the late news, doing cut-ins through the night. No one was watching, but I was there.

We had little morning news presence back then. I don’t even remember who it was, but a single person produced and reported in the morning.

At 7:00 AM we switched to GMA. Every half hour their meteorologist reported the national weather, including the upcoming hurricane. The graphics on GMA were wrong&#185. Every half hour I’d follow Dave Murray, asking the viewers to believe me and not him.

Before long, we were on-the-air non-stop. The station really did an amazing job. I still remember some live shots, especially David Henry’s from Bridgeport, as if they happened yesterday.

Gloria had been a Category 3 hurricane with 125 mph winds, but was a shadow of her former self when she hit Long Island and then Connecticut. Officially, Gloria hit Connecticut with 90 mph sustained winds. Today, I doubt even that number. Whatever it was, it was frightening. Half the state lost power.

My friend Diane Smith lost a beautiful sailboat. Other friends and co-workers would lose trees and power – in some cases for a week or more.

I watched the storm on the Weather Service’s ancient radar. As it approached Connecticut, the eye opened up. We had one eyewall pass overhead and that was it. The southern half of this north moving storm no longer existed.

By nightfall Gloria was gone and Connecticut was picking up the pieces.

A day or two later in the New Haven Register, Carolyn Wyman didn’t talk about my coverage, she wrote about my disheveled hair, wondering if it was an affectation. I was crushed. I wonder if Carolyn (who seems like a nice person) knows I still remember? I wonder if she still feels that way?

On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know.

Hurricane Gloria was where I first realized, no matter how important it made my job, I didn’t want really bad weather to come here. Some forecasters do. Some meteorologists salivate over tornadoes and hurricanes. I, on the other hand, had my fill on that one day.

Years later, Governor (now prisoner) John Rowland told me he was waiting for houses to start blowing through the streets of Waterbury. To some, the storm was a disappointment. To others, especially along the Connecticut shoreline, it was a few hours of terror.

I am looking forward to seeing some of the old video and trying to remember what it was like watching it the first time. I am petrified that among the old clips will be a little cut of me, 20 years younger, looking like I was 15.

&#185 – As far as I could tell, a graphic artist preparing the maps traced the correct forecast track. Unfortunately, the line she/he drew wasn’t centered on the pen, but was actually to the right of it. That was common back then.

Watching The Team In Action

Ann, our evening co-anchor, and I were on our way back from dinner when my cell phone started to vibrate. It was the assignment desk calling. There had been a major accident on I-95 in Bridgeport. Details were sketchy. It was a tractor trailer, full of fuel oil, and there was a huge fireball. We didn’t know exactly what was going on – but it was big.

I handed the phone to Ann. As she talked, I sped through the city, toward the TV station five minutes away.

“Ann, I’m going to run this light,” I said at a lonely intersection about halfway there. And I did.

We returned to the newsroom, which had moved from its normal routine to a more frenetic pace. The chopper was flying in from its hangar in Chester. The DOT had removed access to the traffic cameras near the scene (I have no idea why they do this – but they always do). The assignment desk was buzzing, making and taking calls.

Before the cameras went away, Jeff Bailey (left), our webmaster and a former show producer, had scoured the DOT’s web based cameras and plucked a shot of flames in a nearby building. Those cameras too were soon removed. He said he was lucky, but it was instinct that told him to look.

There wasn’t much for me, the weatherman, to do. So, I stepped back and took in the scene.

When there is breaking news, a newsroom is a fascinating place. It’s not just getting the story, but getting the story to those who will tell it. Then there’s coordinating all the disparate elements. Will the art department whip up a map? Can we move a reporter off an earlier story and down to the scene. Does the copter have enough gas to stay aloft? If it has to refuel, what’s the best time to do it… and where?

Is this a fact? Do we know for sure? Can’t guess. Gotta know.

Our news director was there, as was our 6:00 PM producer. The newsroom coordinator who had been in the neighborhood, stopped by, and was pressed into service. It was astounding to watch the flow.

I-95 is the busiest road in the country. The section cutting through Bridgeport, recent scene of years of construction, would be out of service for an indefinite period of time.

The desk checked the hospitals. We had gotten information – as it turns out bad information – that lots people were being taken to area hospitals. You can’t let bad information get on the air.

Reports came in, and checked out, that diesel oil carried by the tractor trailer had washed into a storm drain and was now heading to Long Island Sound through a nearby creek.

We went on the air, cutting into coverage of figure skating. The phones lit up as angry skating fans vented. It doesn’t make any difference what you’re covering or what you’re pre-empting. There are always calls.

The helicopter arrived on scene and Ann let Dennis Protsko, our chopper reporter do his thing. Later, Keith would anchor a cut-in, and then at 10:00, both of them together.

Having been in the chopper many times, I can tell you the best view is the view from our camera – not with the naked eye. Dennis has the advantage of both reporting and controlling the camera. I had watched in a monitor as he approached the scene. The camera, on a mount between the copter’s skids, darted back and forth as he scanned the scene. As he told his story on-the-air, the video followed along.

Other reporters, cameramen and live trucks arrived on the scene and we started to fill in details. We broke in twice during skating, did an extended 10:00 PM news and then our normal 11:00.

It was exciting to watch everything come together. TV news is normally heavily scripted and produced. This was seat of the pants – and it was great.

The directors fought off our control room automation system. They would need to make instant decisions – not preset ones. That’s not what the system does best – but no one would ever know tonight.

I don’t wish this kind of tragedy on anyone. But, when something big happens, I want to see the people I work with step up to the plate – and they did.

I’ll see the ratings tomorrow, but they’re not the indicator of what we did. We couldn’t go door-to-door telling people to turn us on. What we had to do on a night like this was convince those who were watching that we were masterful (and we were). Then, next time it hits the fan, maybe they’ll come back.

I’m really lucky to have been there and watched this. If you work in a team environment, this is what you’d want your team to do.

I can’t be accepted as an unbiased observer here. Of course I have a stake in how we do. But, I mean every word. I wouldn’t write it if it weren’t true.

Note: As great a job as we did, the best photo of the night goes to the Connecticut Post and photographer Christian Abraham. It is their photo, so I can’t post it, just link to it. This will win some prize, for sure.

Lost In Translation

Steffie had plans tonight and needed to be in Trumbull. With the thought that roads might not be in great shape later in the evening, Helaine and I decided to drive her (instead of her driving herself) and spend the evening out.

We had dinner at Bennigans at the Trumbull Mall (French Dip and Chicken Noodle Soup, it’s an exciting life!) and then went to Fairfield to see Lost in Translation.

Neither Helaine or I know our way through Bridgeport, but I assumed going down Main Street would lead us to I-95. At some point, we became lost. Luckily, there was an electric company crew working on some project. I asked for directions, and one worker gave them.

“Go over that bridge that looks like it’s closed.” It was closed! Thanks.

I have not read anything but raves about this movie and so I wanted to see it. I could not have been more disappointed.

Though beautifully shot and well acted, the movie never got off the ground. I’m still not sure what it was about.

I find Bill Murray much more likable than I did when he first broke out on Saturday Night Live. Though the part he played wasn’t based on him, the character he acted sure seemed it. That’s not bad. As I said, he’s likable.

Scarlett Johansson, as a woman questioning her two year old marriage, was fine. Good acting in a dark role.

She is more attractive than she is beautiful. I’m not sure if that sentence makes total sense other than to say, I find physical beauty only one part of being attractive.

When all was said and done, Helaine complained that the movie had been very slow (though she enjoyed it more than I did). I concur.

There is one thing this movie left me with. I would love to go to Japan. In fact, I’d like to visit Asia in general. I don’t think Helaine wants to go, so this will be something that will only happen if there is another reason for going, and seeing Japan is secondary.

Interestingly enough, this was another movie with an all adult audience. At age 53, I was much younger than the median.

Pretty Close Is Very Good

I’m not going to lie. There were times this weekend when I thought my forecast was a bust. I heard big numbers from a ferocious storm. Where did I go wrong?

As it turns out, I didn’t. As always, this wasn’t a bullseye, but it wasn’t all that bad. Read what I was expecting from Friday and then, see what we got.

It was colder than I expected, so the precipitation stayed snow longer. The changeover did hold the accumulations down and kept almost everyone under 6″&#185, which is the normal threshold for Winter Storm Warning. Click here to see a chart of snowfall amounts from the Connecticut DOT.

Right now, nearly all of Connecticut is at or above freezing.

City Sky/wx tmp dp rh wind pres remarks

Bradley intl frz rain 32 32 100 N10 29.57F wci 24 tc 0

Hartford Lgt snow 32 N/a N/a N14G21 29.55F wci 22 tc 0

Bridgeport lgt rain 37 35 92 NE14 29.47F wci 28 tc 3

Danbury frz rain 34 32 92 NW6 29.54S fog wci 29

Groton lgt rain 42 41 96 NE18G26 29.47F tc 6

New Haven rain 34 34 100 N14 29.48F fog wci 25

Meriden lgt rain 33 32 96 NE10G18 29.52F fog wci 25

Willimantic lgt rain 36 34 92 NE10 29.54F fog wci 28

Oxford cloudy&#178 34 32 93 NE15G22 29.47F wci 24 tc 1

We are one day closer to March. I couldn’t be happier.

&#185 – This is the second storm in a row where Meriden has had significantly more accumulation than surrounding areas. One more and it becomes untrustworthy to me.

&#178 – The automatic sensors at Waterbury/Oxford Airport haven’t worked properly in years. This reading should report precipitation, but doesn’t.

New York City trip – The Producers

Ivy the dog is still in the hospital There was some improvement today, which I’ll get to later. Still, Helaine felt it was best for her to stay home… and she did.

Steffie and I took our three tickets to see The Producers, got in the car around 9:00AM, and headed into New York City. After Dunkin’ Donuts and gas (there’s a joke here somewhere), we hit the open road, convertible top down.

This was actually risky. The mostly cloudy sky turned overcast as we moved west from Bridgeport (In Connecticut, the east-west Connecticut Turnpike is labeled north-south. This makes a geographically challenged adult population even more confused). I expected to have to pull over, under an underpass, at any moment to get the top up. But, by the time we hit the Cross Bronx Expressway, the sun had returned and the air began to get steamy.

The trip to New York, though shared with lots of other cars, was never hampered by traffic.

We followed the CBE to the West Side Highway (following the Last Exit in New York signs) and headed south along the Hudson River. The view to New Jersey was a little hazy. The river itself was pretty empty.

I parked the car ($30, thank you) on West 44th Street, just west of 8th Avenue. I always put up the top when parking, even in attended parking, and that was a good thing, since it later rained.

It was near 11:00 AM and the show wasn’t until 2:00 PM, so we headed into the subway at the corner and went downtown to Canal Street.

For some unknown reason, I thought the IRT #1 train would be the closest (it wasn’t). I mention this, because the subway stairs at 8th and 44th bring you to the 8 Avenue Line IND station with connecting corridors to the IRT (mentioning IND and IRT only helps to show I’m getting older. These labels, a throwback to the era when some subways lines were privately owned, haven’t been used in decades.) It seemed like we were walking to Canal Street as the narrow, tiled, dingy, hot tubes led up and down, left and right, until we were on the downtown platform. We took the express a few stops and then walked across the platform to take the #1 to Canal.

New Yorkers leave the city in droves during the summer, and I’m sure that’s especially true for Labor Day weekend. At the same time tourists pour in. Canal Street was jammed.

Maybe I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m sure Kate Spade, Christian Dior or Louis Vuitton (is there really a Louis Vuitton?) would clutch their collective chests and fall to the ground in cardiac arrest if they ever saw Canal Street. Everything is a knock off… but a nearly perfect knock off.

When a bag says Prada on the outside, it also has Prada on the hardware and Prada “franked” on the leather inside. It’s a pretty thorough job.

Today, I actually stopped as I bought a bottle of Poland Springs water from a vendor, thinking maybe it too wasn’t the real thing. Hey, it’s Canal Street, who knows?

I continue to look, to no avail, for a Breitling combination analog/LCD watch. Obviously, Breitling has them, but that’s a little out of my price range for a watch… maybe not for a car, but for a watch.

Steffie went bag, wallet and shoe shopping. Is it an obsession? Sure. There should be some 12 step program to get her back on the right track. But, at least on Canal Street you can indulge your fantasy. She bought a few things, including some shoes she had been lusting after.

I found a few computer books. One was on Perl, a computer language (which will not make my spell checker happy) used on websites like this one, that I want to learn. The second had to do with Cascading Style Sheets. Again, it’s a concept used on this website and something I had heard about for years without understanding. Like Perl, if I’m going to administer this site, I need to learn at least a little bit about it. Books on Canal Street go for 1/2 retail price or a little less.

A few Canal Street observations. There is a street side display ad for Tag Heuer watches. These watches are sold on Canal Street… they’re just not real. It’s an odd place for an ad like this.

Canal Street is old and tired. There hasn’t been new construction here since the 1930’s or maybe earlier. Little shops are crammed into spaces no larger than a small closet. And, my guess is, this was never an upscale neighborhood, even back in the day. That’s why it was interesting to see beautiful detail work on some of the older industrial buildings.

Finally, even in the midst of urban congestion, people find comfort in things growing. I found this ‘city garden’ on a fire escape. There’s no doubt it’s against fire code, but it is nice to see.

With a 2:00 PM curtain, we headed back into the subway and north to the 42 Street stop on the E train. Up the stairs and, astoundingly enough, we were a half a block from the theater. But, there was a problem. We had Helaine’s ticket!

A try outside the theater yielded nothing. It didn’t seem like the right place to sell it. So, we headed to the TKTS booth in Duffy Square. This is where you’d likely find people looking for tickets, and Producers tickets were always tough to come by.

I walked parallel to the line at TKTS. “Single ticket to The Producers.” Once, twice, three times… and then as I was about to try one more time, Steffie turned me to a woman in line who was interested. She asked how much? I hadn’t thought about it, so asked her to make me an offer. She said half, and the deal was done.

As it turned out, she was Japanese, in New York by herself (though she said she had friends there) and had only come in earlier in the day. She was about to sit dead center in the 6th row, and I was subsidizing 50% of the cost.

The Producers was excellent. It is everything the movie was, though the story has been adapted and simplified for the stage. The current cast is considered “B” next to Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane. Even then, like most New Yorkers, some of the biggest players were out-of-town, replaced by stand-ins. Lewis J. Stadlen, the lead, was replaced by John Treacy Egan, which meant Egan was also covered by an understudy.

I would very much like to see the show again, with Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick. As the originators of Bialystock and Bloom, and with the theatrical clout to be a little ‘over the top’, my guess is they bring the show up a few notches.

The dialog and sensibility of the show was pure Mel Brooks. You could hear his voice in nearly every line. And, in fact, his voice was heard (lip sync’ed by an actor) during Springtime for Hitler; “Don’t be stupid, be a Smarty – sign up with the Nazi Party!” I believe he did this line in the film as well.

Brad Musgrove as the astoundingly gay Carmen Ghia was a hoot. He got the biggest ovation of the non-principals.

After the play broke, we headed away from the car, and back toward Times Square. Steffie wanted a henna tattoo, which we never found.

We did see a few things in Times Square that you only see in Times Square. The most notable is the “Naked Cowboy.” It is, stripped to its essence, a man wearing a cowboy hat, boots and underwear. That’s it. He charges to pose for photos, and does a pretty brisk business.

For the cowboy challenged, there was also Spiderman, available for a price. In the spirit on New York, I doubt any of his take goes to the copyright owner.

What we did find was rain! What had been a sprinkle as we left the theater turned into a downpour. We were near 42nd Street by this point, so we headed to the ESPN Zone. With a 30 minute wait, we turned back up Broadway and ended up at Planet Hollywood.

When in Times Square, Steffie and I eat at Planet Hollywood more often than not. The food was fine, but more importantly, the restaurant was dry. We were soaked when we got in. Luckily, the camera, books, bags, shoes and the like were in plastic bags. Steffie’s purse had been outside, but tonight, it seemed none the worse for water.

We headed back to the car, only to run into the New York City Fire Department. Something was going on above West 44th Street. Four or five pieces of fire rolling stock and at least a dozen, firefighters (each wearing oxygen packs) stood around chatting as a ladder was extended from a truck and two firefighters climbed to the roof of the theater adjacent to the St. James (where The Producers plays).

If there was cause for alarm, it was well hidden. No one was breaknig a sweat. Steffie wanted to stay and watch, which we did for a few minutes. But, as time went on, it became clear that whatever was going on, was going on out of sight… and wasn’t all that dramatic.

By 6:00 we were in the car, turned north on 8th Avenue, and headed home… with the top down.

Best of New Haven Advocate

Ivy the dog is still in the hospital There was some improvement today, which I’ll get to later. Still, Helaine felt it was best for her to stay home… and she did.

Steffie and I took our three tickets to see The Producers, got in the car around 9:00AM, and headed into New York City. After Dunkin’ Donuts and gas (there’s a joke here somewhere), we hit the open road, convertible top down.

This was actually risky. The mostly cloudy sky turned overcast as we moved west from Bridgeport (In Connecticut, the east-west Connecticut Turnpike is labeled north-south. This makes a geographically challenged adult population even more confused). I expected to have to pull over, under an underpass, at any moment to get the top up. But, by the time we hit the Cross Bronx Expressway, the sun had returned and the air began to get steamy.

The trip to New York, though shared with lots of other cars, was never hampered by traffic.

We followed the CBE to the West Side Highway (following the Last Exit in New York signs) and headed south along the Hudson River. The view to New Jersey was a little hazy. The river itself was pretty empty.

I parked the car ($30, thank you) on West 44th Street, just west of 8th Avenue. I always put up the top when parking, even in attended parking, and that was a good thing, since it later rained.

It was near 11:00 AM and the show wasn’t until 2:00 PM, so we headed into the subway at the corner to head to Canal Street.

For some unknown reason, I thought the IRT #1 train would be the closest (it wasn’t). I mention this, because the subway stairs at 8th and 44th bring you to the 8 Avenue Line IND station with connecting corridors to the IRT (mentioning IND and IRT only helps to show I’m getting older. These labels, a throwback to the era when some subways lines were privately owned, haven’t been used in decades.) It seemed like we were walking to Canal Street as the narrow, tiled, dingy, hot tubes led up and down, left and right, until we were on the downtown platform. We took the express a few stops and then walked across the platform to take the #1 to Canal.

New Yorkers leave the city in droves during the summer, and I’m sure that’s especially true for Labor Day weekend. At the same time tourists pour in. Canal Street was jammed.

Maybe I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m sure Kate Spade, Christian Dior or Louis Vuitton (is there really a Louis Vuitton?) would clutch their collective chests and fall to the ground in cardiac arrest if they ever saw Canal Street. Everything is a knock off… but a nearly perfect knock off.

Today, I actually stopped as I bought a bottle of Poland Springs water from a vendor, thinking maybe it too wasn’t the real thing. Hey, it’s Canal Street, who knows?

I continue to look, to no avail, for a Breitling combination analog/LCD watch. Obviously, Breitling has them, but that’s a little out of my price range for a watch… maybe not for a car, but for a watch.

Steffie went bag, wallet and show shopping. Is it an obsession? Sure. There should be some 12 step program to get her back on the right track. But, at least on Canal Street you can indulge your fantasy. She bought a few things, including some shoes she had been lusting after.

I found a few computer books. One was on Perl, a computer language (which will not make my spell checker happy) used on websites like this one, that I want to learn. The second had to do with Cascading Style Sheets. Again, it’s a concept used on this website and something I had heard about for years without understanding. Like Perl, if I’m going to administer this site, I need to learn at least a little bit about it. Books on Canal Street go for 1/2 retail price or a little less.

A few Canal Street observations. There is a street side display ad for Tag Heuer watches. These watches are sold on Canal Street… they’re just not real. It’s an odd place for an ad like this.

Canal Street is old and tired. There hasn’t been new construction here since the 1930’s or maybe earlier. Little shops are crammed into spaces no larger than a small closet. And, my guess is, this was never an upscale neighborhood, even back in the day. That’s why it was interesting to see beautiful detail work on some of the older industrial buildings.

Finally, even in the midst of urban congestion, people find comfort in things growing. I found this ‘city garden’ on a fire escape. There’s no doubt it’s against fire code, but it is nice to see.

With a 2:00 PM curtain, we headed back into the subway and north to the 42 Street stop on the E train. Up the stairs and, astoundingly enough, we were a half a block from the theater. But, there was a problem. We had Helaine’s ticket!

A try outside the theater yielded nothing. It didn’t seem like the right place to sell it. So, we headed to the TKTS booth in Duffy Square. This is where you’d likely find people looking for tickets, and Producers tickets were always tough to come by.

I walked parallel to the line at TKTS. “Single ticket to The Producers.” Once, twice, three times… and then as I was about to try one more time, Steffie turned me to a woman in line who was interested. She asked how much? I hadn’t thought about it, so asked her to make me an offer. She said half, and the deal was done.

As it turned out, she was Japanese, in New York by herself (though she said she had friends there) and had only come in earlier in the day. She was about to sit dead center in the 6th row, and I was subsidizing 50% of the cost.

The Producers was excellent. It is everything the movie was, though the story has been adapted and simplified for the stage. The current cast is considered “B” next to Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane. Even then, like most New Yorkers, some of the biggest players were out-of-town, replaced by stand-ins. Lewis J. Stadlen, the lead, was replaced by John Treacy Egan, which meant Egan was also covered by an understudy.

I would very much like to see the show again, with Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick. As the originators of Bialystock and Blum, and with the theatrical clout to be a little ‘over the top’, my guess is they bring the show up a few notches.

The dialog and sensibility of the show was pure Mel Brooks. You could hear his voice in nearly every line. And, in fact, his voice was heard (lip sync’ed by an actor) during Springtime for Hitler; “Don’t be stupid, be a Smarty – sign up with the Nazi Party!” I believe he did this line in the film as well.

Brad Musgrove as the astoundingly gay Carmen Ghia was a hoot. He got the biggest ovation of the non-principals.

After the play broke, we headed away from the car, and back toward Times Square. Steffie wanted a henna tattoo, which we never found.

We did see a few things in Times Square that you only see in Times Square. The most notable is the “naked cowboy.” It is, stripped to its essence, a man wearing a cowboy hat, boots and underwear. That’s it. He charges to pose for photos, and does a pretty brisk business.

For the cowboy challenged, there was also Spiderman, available for a price. In the spirit on New York, I doubt any of his take goes to the copyright owner.

What we did find was rain! What had been a sprinkle as we left the theater turned into a downpour. We were near 42nd Street by this point, so we headed to the ESPN Zone. With a 30 minute wait, we turned back up Broadway and ended up at Planet Hollywood.

When in Times Square, Steffie and I eat at Planet Hollywood more often than not. The food was fine, but more importantly, the restaurant was dry. We were soaked when we got in. Luckily, the camera, books, bags, shoes and the like were in plastic bags. Steffie’s purse had been outside, but tonight, it seemed none the worse for water.

We headed back to the car, only to run into the New York City Fire Department. Something was going on above West 44th Street. Four or five pieces of fire rolling stock and at least a dozen, firefighters (each wearing oxygen packs) stood around chatting as a ladder was extended from a truck and two firefighters climbed to the roof of the theater adjacent to the St. James (where The Producers plays).

If there was cause for alarm, it was well hidden. No one was breaknig a sweat. Steffie wanted to stay and watch, which we did for a few minutes. But, as time went on, it became clear that whatever was going on, was going on out of sight… and wasn’t all that dramatic.

By 6:00 we were in the car, turned north on 8th Avenue, and headed home… with the top down.