Now It’s Tropical Storm Arthur

After grazing the North Carolina coast Arthur will be picked up by a midlatitude front and ushered to sea. Friday’s New England rain will be enhanced (intensified) by Arthur’s moisture. That’s especially true in Eastern Connecticut and more so in Rhode Island and the Cape.

Atlantic TROPICAL STORM ARTHUR - Google Maps

Invest 91 became Tropical Depression 1, which is now Tropical Storm Arthur. I can’t not look!

Early season storms are usually wimps. Not always. Remember Andrew!

Intensity guidance, among the poorest prediction guesses we make, says Arthur will briefly become a hurricane on Friday. I expect no hurricane force winds onshore.

The spaghetti strands continue to be tightly clustered. A good sign, especially since the impact to Connecticut (where many of my friends still live) should be minimal, but still significant.

After grazing the North Carolina coast Arthur will be picked up by a midlatitude front and ushered to sea. Friday’s New England rain will be enhanced (intensified) by Arthur’s moisture. That’s especially true in Eastern Connecticut and more so in Rhode Island and the Cape.

By Saturday Arthur’s east of Cape Cod and steaming away. The weekend is saved in New England and elsewhere!

Remember: Though I do follow tropical systems and post when I can, you should depend on a meteorologist who works fulltime watching your weather. I am flattered people still value my opinion, but I shouldn’t be your ‘final answer.’ – Geoff

Enough Already–Let’s Vote

In 1972 I waited in a long line at the Mallard Creek 2 polling place in Charlotte, NC to vote for Eugene McCarthy. “If you vote for him things will be awful,” I was told. I did vote for him. Things did turn out to be awful.

What makes this election different from the 11 other presidential elections I actually remember (Sorry Ike, I don’t remember ’52 or ’56) is how long it’s been heavily covered.

In the pre-Internet, pre-cable days candidates were on the stump, but mostly unnoticed by the general population. If you spoke in Chillicothe, you might have gotten some local TV coverage (in fact you prayed for local TV coverage) and maybe a short AP/UPI write-up, but no one else knew. Now, every breath you take, every move you make, they’ll be watching you!

Democrats pulling for Senator Obama equate this massive coverage to vetting and use it to thwart Senator McCain’s claim we know nothing of Obama. I don’t think McCain’s getting much traction here. We all feel, right or wrong, after all this time we know the candidates.

I remember reading somewhere that Bush-41 knew he was going to lose to Bill Clinton a few weeks before the election (I cannot find a citation fo this–but it is my memory) and then just went through the motions. It doesn’t look that way with John McCain, who I saw speaking from a town on the Tennessee/Virginia border a while ago. Still, it’s got to be tough to know you’re as far behind in the polls as he is.

I’ve always thought it was students and young adults who drove Lyndon Johnson from office. And yet when franchised as a very liberal young voter I never voted for eventual winners. Very frustrating.

In 1972 I waited in a long line at the Mallard Creek 2 polling place in Charlotte, NC to vote for Eugene McCarthy. “If you vote for him things will be awful,” I was told. I did vote for him. Things did turn out to be awful.

No one I knew was voting for Nixon and yet he ran away with North Carolina and the election in general. Since then I voted voted both Republican and Democratic in presidential elections. To be kind, I am not a bellwether.

At work I asked Intern Jacob if he was excited about this election and if he thought students were involved. He quickly answered yes. I found that encouraging.

Back in 1960 the election results were on all-night. The election itself wasn’t decided until the pre-dawn hours. Though I was just 10, I remember how exciting that night was (and I also remember primarily watching NBC). I was prepped for the same fun in 1964, but everything was decided quickly. Not every election goes down to the wire. In fact, most do not.

Tomorrow’s results will probably be known early and Barack Obama will go-to-bed President Elect Obama. In football he’d be seen as a prohibitive favorite… and yet they still play the games.

My Jesse Helms Story

As I remember, the spot paid $800, or a month’s pay for me. That was quite the incentive.

Jesse Helms died today. He was the very conservative former senator from North Carolina.

Back in 1972 I was working as a disk jockey at WBT, the 50,000 watt AM station in Charlotte, NC. This was a wonderful, old line station. Under one roof we had an AM, FM, TV and separate video and audio production companies. There were few stations like it then–certainly none like that now.

One day an open call came from Jeffersonics, the audio production house. A political spot was being cut and they needed a voice. Everyone was encouraged to read.

I don’t have now and certainly didn’t have then “pipes,” but I went nonetheless and read. As I remember, the spot paid $800, or a month’s pay for me. That was quite the incentive.

I didn’t get the job. It went to Jack Petry, our midday man with a voice so deep he once told me he couldn’t be heard over a vacuum cleaner!

The three words Jack read: “Nixon needs Helms.” In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t get it.

It Is The Worldwide Web

I’m flattered, though my comment was totally mischaracterized.

My last post about our postal experience with my mom’s gift was picked up on a few other sites. That happens from time-to-time. I like it… encourage it… because I get more hits.

I write to be read.

Sometimes a blog post can be picked up in an unusual place or unusual way. That happened last week. It was one of those things I stumbled upon. Otherwise, I would have never known.

When I wrote about the Indiana and North Carolina primaries, it was picked up by Le Monde, the website of the major French newspaper.

I’m flattered, though my comment was totally mischaracterized.

Cette guerre fratricide risque de réduire les chances du camps démocrate, si l’un ou l’autre ne se décide pas à abandonner la campagne. Peut-être est-il temps, se demande Geofffox, pour Hillary Clinton de quitter le navire de la course à la présidentielle afin de se concentrer enfin sur le scrutin de novembre ?

Which (Google) translates to:

This fratricidal war may reduce the chances of Democrat camps, if either is not decided to abandon the campaign. Perhaps it is time, wondered Geofffox for Hillary Clinton to leave the ship of the presidential race to focus finally on the ballot in November?

I wasn’t saying that. I was just quoting others and the torrent of post-primary pundits.

How sad is this? Even when misunderstood, I’m glad to be cited. The missed perception doesn’t bother me at all. That’s got to be a character flaw.

Hooked On Politics

This is crazy. I have been watching election returns like it’s the Super Bowl and I’ve got a large bet down.

This is crazy. I have been watching election returns tonight as if it was the Super Bowl and I’ve got a large bet down.

(I know you know this in May 2008, but since this entry will be around for a while…) Barack Obama handily won North Carolina against Hillary Clinton, to whom he then lost Indiana.

The Indiana results came in as if they were from a movie.

First Hillary Clinton went strongly ahead by double digits. Then, as more votes came in, the margin shrank. When Senator Clinton gave her victory speech, she was ahead by 4%. Now that margin is 2% and shrinking, but nearly all votes are counted.

She will win Indiana, but not by enough to really claim victory. The pundits have been keeping busy this early morning, coming up with reasons she will leave the race, or should leave the race.

November seems so far away.

The Antenna I Can’t Part With

The rumor was, the guy who designed the antenna, an MIT grad student whose name I won’t mention, was really working for the CIA. Having the ability to monitor local radio stations from afar… let’s say Albania from Turkey, for instance, was a valuable tool in the Cold War.

altazimuth_loop.jpgI was just up in the attic a few minutes ago. I was looking for something that was actually right next to me!

While there, I caught sight of the ‘thing’ in the photo to the left. As any fool can plainly see, it’s an NRC DIGFET Altazimuth loop&#185.

OK – what’s that? You’re entitled to know.

When I was growing up… in fact, until the early 70s, I was a BCB DXer. That’s a person who listens to distant stations on a plain AM radio.

I heard the easy ones easily. It was those stations between the stations, the really long hauls with weak signals, that interested me.

There was (actually there still is) a club for these dweeby shut-ins desperately trying to identify what they were hearing: the National Radio Club. Its DX News, published by volunteers pounding on manual typewriters, was my source of knowledge… albeit months old by the time it got to me.

The loop antenna made it possible to eliminate local stations, allowing the distant ones to come right in. I know it sounds impossible, but by turning the antenna to just the right angle, vector math nulled the strong signal.

The rumor was, the guy who designed the antenna, an MIT grad student whose name I won’t mention, was really working for the CIA. Having the ability to monitor local radio stations from afar… let’s say Albania from Turkey, for instance, was a valuable tool in the Cold War.

While working in Charlotte, NC at 50,000 watt WBT, I could turn the antenna to hear KFAB in Omaha. They were both on the same frequency, with KFAB purposely sending very little signal in my direction!

I used that antenna to listen to the Radio Dakar in Senegal on 764 kHz and the BBC on 1214 kHz from my dorm room at Emerson. The signals weren’t great and I didn’t really mind.

In Cleveland in the early 70s, I caught a station ID from KORL 650 kHz in Honolulu while WSM in Nashville was off-the-air for weekly transmitter maintenance. I only heard a few seconds, but they included a jingle for “People Power,” their talk format slogan at the time.

Since I wanted to be in radio, having this amazing antenna allowed me to listen to disk jockeys and radio stations not normally available.

The antenna still works. Until Major League Baseball began streaming games on the Internet, we used it to hear the Phillies on 1210 kHz, even though there’s a station here in Hamden on 1220 kHz!

I really have no use for my ugly antenna anymore. I do nearly no AM listening, and haven’t BCB DX’ed in years.

There’s not a chance I’ll throw it away. You might not understand why. I’m the only one who has to.

&#185 – NRC is National Radio Club. DIGFET is short for “dual inverted gate, field effect transistor.” It’s a low noise amplifier to increase the signal strength. Two were used in a push-pull configuration. Altazimuth referred to the antenna’s ability to turn and tilt in order to find the perfect spot to null out a station.

I Used To Smoke Cigarettes

I smoked for 18 years and permanently quit the first time I tried. I didn’t even want to quit. I’m not trying to show off. That’s just how it happened for me.

I stopped for gas in East Haven. I was on my way to work from getting a haircut. Francine is the Queen of Hair, though if I didn’t stop her, she would play with each individual strand until it was perfect.

Anyway… I stopped for gas and there was a large sign in the parking lot. A sale on cigarettes – $5.20 a pack. Holy crap.

It’s been a long time since I smoked, but I do remember some benchmarks.

When I began to smoke, probably early 1969, a single pack in a vending machine was 40&#162. I was astounded in finding a vending machine at the WHDH-TV studios in Boston that sold them for 35&#162.

Driving to Florida in 1970, I stopped in North Carolina and bought a few cartons for under $3 a piece. Gasoline was probably 34.9&#162/gallon back then.

I smoked a pack and a half a day when I quit. Let’s see… $5 per pack is $50 per week or $2,500 a year. That’s crazy.

I have been told quitting cigarettes is incredibly difficult. I smoked for 18 years and permanently quit the first time I tried. And I didn’t even want to quit. I’m not trying to show off. That’s just how it happened for me.

It was pre-Stef, and Helaine was getting very upset, telling me how I was going to die and we’d have a child to think about. My people are good with guilt.

My first attempt at quitting was was to just cut back, which I did successfully for one day.

11:00 PM rolled around and I was sitting on the news set with our sports anchor, Bob Picozzi and our anchor, John Lindsay&#185. The news began with a single wide shot. Bob and I were ‘set parsley.’

Proudly, I told John I had cut down to only eight for the entire day. And he said, “You can’t do that. After a few days you’ll start ramping up. You’ve got to say, I quit now. I’ve already smoked my last cigarette”

As if in some Hollywood movie, the newscast’s theme music swelled, John turned to the camera and began to read. I sat and pondered.

That night, I came home to our condo in Branford. Helaine was in the kitchen. I took my pack of cigarettes, banged it on the table and said, “I quit.”

She had no clue what I was talking about. I explained.

For the next few months, there were carrots and celery and something to keep me busy. Helaine was amazingly supportive. Neighbors of ours, he a young physician at Yale/New Haven, prescribed Nicorette (back then, by prescription only).

Within a week or two, I notice my sense of smell had improved. The next cold I had made a much quicker passage through my system.

I’m sure there has been some damage done by all the smokes. I hope it’s not too much.

I’ve never missed my cigarettes. I never had a desire to return. I can’t understand why anyone starts now, if for no other reason than the expense.

$5.20 a pack. That’s a sale? They’re kidding, right?

&#185 – John Lindsay was on my mind yesterday. He had one of the briefest stays of the myriad anchors I’ve worked with. He also had a small part as a TV anchorman in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” It was on TV yesterday.

Foolish Moves I’ve Stopped Making

I am an impatient driver. I drive too fast. Right turn on red was made for me.

I also take advantage of a little known law: “left turn on red.”

Stop laughing. I’m not kidding. Here’s what Wikipedia says:

In most areas of the United States, it is also legal to make some left turns on red. In all cases, the road being turned onto must be one-way. Making a left-turn on red from a two-way street is legal in only five states: Alaska, Idaho, Michigan, Oregon, and Washington. In Washington, freeway on-ramps are considered one-way streets for the purposes of the left turn on red law.

Pretty cool, huh? And, it makes sense. One way to one way left on red is no more perilous than right on red.

There’s one particular left on red I often make. It’s at the intersection of College Street and South Frontage Road (Rte 34) in New Haven. I’ve been doing it for years to the amazement of passengers, including my own skeptical family. It only saves a few seconds, but who cares? That’s not the point.

I happened to stumble upon an article about left on red tonight. It was serendipity… and being the ‘left on red’ man, I read along.

Left turns on red are prohibited in the states of South Dakota (unless permitted by local ordinance), Connecticut, Maine, Missouri, New Hampshire, New Jersey, North Carolina, and Rhode Island and in the District of Columbia and Guam.

Really?

I am so embarrassed! And, I am so relieved to learn about this by reading, as opposed to learning about it from a cop!

Audio Tape – How Quaint

When we cleaned out the house last month, a lot had to be thrown away. There were certain items, however, where I drew the line. Specifically, I kept audio tapes. These little five and seven inch reels chronicle my time in radio.

I know I work in television, but in many ways I still maintain my undying love for radio. It’s where my broadcasting career started. In high school, it was the career I lusted after.

Radio has changed. What I found romantic has been beaten out of the medium by national chains and their bean counters. I still love radio.

Unfortunately, my audio tapes represent a dead storage format. I’m not sure audio tape recorders are made anymore. I don’t have one.

We used to have a very nice audio deck at the TV station. Where it is now is a mystery to me. Audio, like everything else, is recorded digitally, not on tape.

Luckily, my friend Rick still has two audio decks in his basement. One is in the studio, the other sadly sits in storage. Even the deck in the studio needed to be re-cabled before we could roll on the tapes.

They’re too nice to chuck, too dated to use.

First, we listened to an aircheck from the early 1970s. I was working at WBT in Charlotte, NC. 1110-WBT was a blowtorch – a 50,000 watt AM station that could be heard from Canada to Florida (and we had a jingle which claimed just that).

I thought I was a pretty good disk jockey then. Wrong. This aircheck will never see the light of day again.

There were a few things of note on the tape. Our hourly IDs were voiced by Johnny Olsen, who was the announcer on virtually every Goodson-Toddman game show of the era. Rick, who can recognize most contemporary VO guys, drew a blank.

Trust me, back then he was immediately recognizable.

This tape was meant to get me a job. In order to attract some attention, I opened with a medley of jingle singers trying to sing my name – and failing. That was actually pretty cool.

The other tapes included more recent airchecks, a few custom jingles and the “TM Song.” TM, a jingle company in Dallas, produced a sales presentation jingle, singing all their clients call letters.

There’s just no way I could have let these tapes become unplayable. And now, they’re stored digitally and protected from another era of electronic obsolescence.

Blogger’s note: I have worked on this audio for over an hour. How frustrating!

For some reason you sometimes have to click on the play button twice. I wish I knew why. Adding this reminder is much simpler than fixing it.

I Voted Today

Photo from my Motorola RAZR cameraphone

7 Nov ’06, 3.15pm EST

Originally uploaded by Geoff Fox.

This might sound naive or Pollyanna’ish, but I voted and the mere act of walking in the booth and pulling the levers made me feel good. This is a wonderful country based on fundamental values worth protecting.

My single vote won’t tip any races, but it’s still incredibly important. I really feel that way.

I had a discussion with a relative yesterday. He never votes. I was shocked. It’s his choice, but I couldn’t imagine not voting.

I remember my mom bringing me into the booth with her. I was a little boy and she was voting at PS 200 on Jewel Avenue in Flushing. It was virtually the same machine I voted on today.

My first vote on my own was at Mallard Creek #2 in Charlotte, NC in 1971. Nixon versus McGovern brought everyone out. It’s the only time I ever remember a significant wait in line. Again, the machine was the same.

This will probably be the last time I pull a lever on one of the old mechanical machines. New technology is coming. I am suspicious of the new electronic machines.

A few days ago, eBay sent me a note, telling me they had canceled an auction I participated in. Only, the auction had already ended and I had already paid for and received the merchandise. All the usual details of my transaction have been removed from my eBay page! It’s as if the transaction never happened.

Can that be done with my vote too?

On the news over the past few days I’d seen stories about how ‘buried’ Joe Lieberman’s name was on the ballot. He’s right. He’s in that ballot ghetto, way down at the bottom. It’s an area normally reserved for fringe candidates. In the poorly lit booth, some people will miss it.

I will watch with interest tonight as the votes come in. There’s more anticipation and angst for me than there’s been in a long time. Connecticut is in the national spotlight for the first time in a long time. There are other contests I’m watching from across the country.

I’m so glad to have participated.


How I Became A Maine-iac

Here’s the setup. I had vacation time I needed to take (and there’s more where that came from). So did my friend Bob from North Carolina. Neither of us wanted to spend much money, but he had a plan.

If we went on vacation to Maine, he could do some work for a radio station that carries his syndicated morning show, and we could visit Maine on the cheap. Anyway, he loves Maine and is very attached to the radio station in Bangor where he’s been heard for 10 years.

We made our plans, such as they were.

We’d drive up to Maine on Sunday and stay until Wednesday. I needed to be back in time to hand off the camera, “Clicky,” to Helaine and Stef who were going to a concert.

In return for Bob’s on-air visit, the station would arrange a place for us to stay. This was the first in what would be a string of incredible luck and good fortune that marked our trip.

Bob flew up from Charlotte, and we left midday Sunday. Though my car’s a convertible, you can’t drop the top when the trunk’s full – and it was full. That’s OK. Our 415 mile, six hour fifteen minute, trip was a little long for that much wind noise. And, as it turned out, once we got to Maine, the top stayed down!

We drove through Connecticut, into Massachusetts and then onto the Mass Pike. We exited near Worcester and then headed northeast into the Merrimack Valley and New Hampshire. From there, we paralleled the coast, without seeing it, on I-95.

Maine is a big state. Once you’re north of Portland, there is little but trees to see. We watched for moose!

Off the Interstate, we drove east toward Mt. Desert Island. It sounds foolish when you first say it, but it’s pronounced “deh-ZERT.”

The topography of Mt. Desert Island was set into motion as the Earth’s tectonic plates collided to form mountains. It’s only in the last tens of thousands of years that the true lay of the land was set by the advance and retreat of glaciers.

It’s an island – you expect to see water. There’s more than you expect! The island was scoured by glaciers, which formed lots of lakes, harbors and Eastern United States’ only fjord!

Our home was in the town of Southwest Harbor. More succinctly, it was on Southwest Harbor.

Because of the shape of the harbor, it has wide tide swings. High and low tide can sometimes be separated by 10-15 feet! For the tidally deprived, that’s a difference in depth. The actual water’s edge can, and does, retreat by hundreds of feet.

Our landlord/hosts were Mary Jo and Rhonda. They own the house we were in, one next door and another home well inland. They could not have been friendlier or more gracious.

Let me stop here and say, everyone was friendly and gracious. This wasn’t because I’m TV-boy, or because Bob has been on the radio for a decade. People on Mt. Desert Island and everywhere else we were in Maine were just nice.

The perfect example came later in the trip. We were on a tiny island – only 75 full time residents. I was in the general store looking for Chapstick. No luck. As I was about to walk out, a woman approached me, handed me one, and said it was in her purse, unopened.

I offered to pay for it, but she said (and this is an exact quote), “It’s my good deed for the day.” To me, that one sentence typified Mainers.

Our house was interesting, in that it was bigger inside than out. Built like a boat, it had slightly low ceilings and no wasted space.Upstairs there were three bedrooms. The two Bob and I used each had large picture windows that opened onto the harbor.

The bathroom was compact as well. I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but I’ve never been in a shower so small you had to be under the water at all times.

After unpacking, we headed to Cadillac Mountain. Cadillac is inside Acadia National Park, and at 1,500 feet above sea level, offers an amazing view in all directions.

While we waited for the Sun to set, we looked around. The air was clear and clean and richly blue. Below us were Bar Harbor and a number of coastal islands. Holland America’s Amsterdam was leaving port, continuing its New England/Canada itinerary.

We left the mountain and drove into Bar Harbor. With only 5,000 or so permanent residents, it is definitely a tourist town. However, don’t think honky tonk.

This is Mt. Desert Island. There are no 7-Eleven’s, McDonald’s, Starbucks or any other franchise or (shudder) big box stores. It is 1950s America as depicted on sitcoms – all white (97.88%), all Christian, all industriously hearty.

We had to get up early (for me) on Monday. Bob was going on the radio from a natural foods supermarket over 50 miles away. This would be the beginning of the “Fatiguing of Geoff.”

Getting up early is no problem. It’s the getting to bed early part I can’t hack. Day-by-day that took its toll.

The appearance was Bob’s. I was just an appendage. Still, I was impressed with how he handled himself and the genuine affection of the listeners who came by.

On Sunday’s arrival I had discovered my laptop’s PC card slot was no longer functioning. That meant no Internet! There was, however, an Internet Cafe in the market. This would be my only time online during the vacation.

It’s tough to remember each and every thing we did, and in the proper order, but we visited nearly every inch of the island and its three main towns: Bar Harbor, Southwest Harbor and Northeast Harbor.

We also ate lobster. I’m not talking one meal here. We ate lobster twice each day – lunch and dinner.

Lunch was a lobster roll. Think chicken salad on a hot dog bun, but substitute lobster for the chicken! Dinner was boiled lobster.

It doesn’t take long to understand lobster is a major employer on Mt. Desert Island. It’s not some ‘photo op’ touristy thing. You see men, and at least one woman I saw, scurrying about on stubby lobster boats nearly every time you see water.

Lobster buoys, the makings of the prototypical Downeast Maine photo, are everywhere. Yes, they’re hung on walls and piled on docks, but any stretch of water deep enough for lobsters has hundreds, sometimes thousands of traps marked with buoys.

Though surrounded by water, Mt. Desert Island is not a bather’s paradise. The water is too damned cold, even during the height of the season, when it’s in the low 50&#176s!

Even if the water was warmer, there is only one sandy beach – Sandy Beach! The rest of the coast is speckled with large rock outcroppings, and crashing surf.

We spent part of one afternoon at Sandy Beach and Thunder Hole – both are in Acadia National Park. Thunder Hole is a natural rock formation which, when conditions are right, produces 30-40 foot tall columns of sea spray accompanied by thunderous booms.

Though Hurricane Florence was passing off to the east, and we came before and stayed through high tide, Thunder Hole was silent.

On Wednesday, our last day, we took the mail boat past the Bear Island Lighthouse to Islesford on Little Cranberry Island. This tiny community has a permanent population of 75.

At first, I thought it was neat to be an interloper in their little society. Then I thought, do they feel as if they’re zoo animals on display? Wherever reality lies, I felt welcome and I loved the island!

It is small enough to transverse on foot. Bob and I followed an unmarked road to a lonely stretch of rocky beach. We turned around and walked, cross island, to an art gallery.

It didn’t take long to figure out there was something strange about the island’s vehicles. Most homes had a car or truck parked outside – a very old car or truck.

When the island’s tiny, your car’s engine will never wear out. However, the exterior is another story. Exposed to salt air 24/7/365, the finish dims and sometimes rust pokes through.

This was a great trip with a great friend – a guy I met my first day as a professional broadcaster, over 35 years ago.

The trip itself was better than the sum of its parts. Yes, Maine is spectacularly beautiful – possibly the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.

It was more beautiful because the Sun was strong each day, the temperatures mild, the stars very bright. I might not have enjoyed it as much if it hadn’t cooperated with me. Still, that’s an outcome I didn’t have to worry about.

I shot over 1,000 photos on this trip. Some of them illustrate this entry. There are nearly 180 more in my online photo gallery. I hope you get a chance to take a peek.

Don Fitzpatrick

If you’re not in TV, you probably don’t know who Don Fitzpatrick is. If you are in TV, but haven’t been in long enough, you don’t know what he once was and the power he held.

Don died over the weekend in Louisiana. He was from there originally and moved back a few years ago. He will be most remembered for his years in San Francisco.

I first heard about Don right after I got into TV news. He was a headhunter of broadcast talent. He, or someone working for him, would comb the country, making videotapes of every on-the-air reporter and anchor they could see. That was then, and still is, a stunningly daunting undertaking.

Don’s company back in San Francisco, Don Fitzpatrick and Associates, kept those tapes cross referenced in an intricate filing system.

If you were a news director, looking for a reporter or anchor, you could go to San Francisco and look at everyone in a hurry. And, those you were looking at never had to know. It was cleaner that way.

Back in those days Don’s biggest client was probably the CBS owned stations. If Don had your tape, and if you were liked, he had the power to get you moved along. He was a giant in that way.

There was another side to Don. He was one of the first computer publishers. I want to say Internet, but he really was here before the original DARPA Internet became the World Wide Web we know today.

In the early 80s, his daily “Rumorville” was a must read… at least for the few of us who had accounts on “The Source.” There was little interconnection between the many networked services, like CompuServe and Prodigy and The Source.

Rumorville was fearless. Fitzpatrick would often print what his name implied – rumors. More often than not, they were true. Often they concerned powerful people in lofty positions.

Most of the Rumorville subscribers were news directors and other managers. As an on-the-air person, I was an exception.

I remember Don having trouble accomplishing some bit of computer minutiae. I sent off an email with some tips. This was nearly 20 years ago. I expected everyone using a computer then to be a geek. Don was not.

More important than knowing their inner workings, he was able to see the power of interconnected computers to pass timely info back-and-forth. Again, we’re talking about the early 80s!

As time went on, and the face of broadcasting changed, Don’s business seemed to become more marginalized. Finally, he was out of the talent aircheck business.

Later, Rumorville became ShopTalk, a daily newsletter. It, unfortunately, became a lot more mainstream and fact based. I miss the days when it was freewheeling. I missed the juicy rumors.

I met Don twice. The first time was in Charlotte, NC. I was there giving demos for a weather graphics company at the Radio TV News Directors Association convention. Don tapped me on the shoulder and introduced himself.

I looked and saw a rumpled guy in an poorly fitting sport coat and vaguely matching pants. I had expected to meet a slickly packaged giant. Instead, he was a real person.

Don and I traded emails a few times a year. Though we seldom chatted, I kept his screen name on my Instant Messenger friends list. I’ve watched him sign on at all hours of the day and night.

It’s sad to hear he’s died. He and I were separated by just a year in age – though he seemed so much more worldly and mature, early in my career. I knew he had health concerns, though nothing this serious.

He was one of a kind. He was a trail blazer. He was a king maker. He will be missed – certainly by me.

Watch The Gatekeepers

This might be a choppy entry. I’ve already tried two analogies and failed. How to explain what I want to say?

I’ve just read an article on c|net which points to an upcoming controversy. As video shifts from broadcast to on demand (and make no mistake, that change is happening) will the gatekeepers allow unfettered access if that access diminishes another part of their business?

Is that obtuse? Am I making the point?

Try this. Lets say you own a high speed Internet provider. It could be a cable company or phone company or other business. It doesn’t make much difference because they are all becoming the same business.

Your customers are looking to download video programs over the fat pipe of data you bring into their home. Do you allow them to download programming that you currently sell… or want to sell? Can your customers pull an end around on your pay-per-view offerings, for instance?

If you’re a phone company, can your Internet customers use the Internet to hatchet your POTS (plain old telephone service) package?

An item in the Sunday edition of the industry newsletter Future of TV.net, published by Broadband Reports publisher Dave Burstein, quoted SBC’s chief operating officer, Randall Stephenson, as saying, “We’re going to control the video on our network. The content guys will have to make a deal with us.”

The brief item in the newsletter implies that SBC will block all video traffic traveling over its broadband network even if it comes from the public Internet. This means that SBC would essentially block video traffic from any Web sites that distribute video, if the content provider has not struck a deal with SBC.

SBC’s PR people were quick to say it’s not so. Then, the author of the original report actually put a comment on c|net, sticking by his assertions.

SBC’s comments are disingenuous. What I reported was that consumers would not be able to “access content of their choice”, nothing about port blocking. But SBC is limiting bandwidth the user can access to less than the speed of the live video on their coming service, and probably will compromise that bandwidth with excessive QOS, etc.

Whoa!

When an Internet provider in North Carolina limited its customers access to the Vonage VOIP phone service (which would eat into it’s phone business), the FCC quickly stepped in.

However, we’re talking about the big boys now. There’s a lot of money and control at stake. Actually, that sentence works better as: There’s a lot of money at stake with control.

I know this is a complex issue, and I’m not sure I’ve done it justice. Even if I haven’t explained it well enough for you to get every nuance, here’s what you should take home – People are currently fighting over the future of our communications infrastructure. It will affect you at home and at work. It will affect you in the wallet.

Bob Comes To Visit

I’m writing this early Sunday morning. I want to make sure something’s posted for Sunday and I don’t expect to be home for much of the day.

My friend Bob Lacey came by tonight. Bob has lived in Charlotte, NC for the last 30+ years. First he worked for WBT-AM, then WBTV, and now the FM, “The Link,” where with Sheri Lynch he hosts a nationally syndicated morning show.

I met Bob my first day in commercial radio.

I broke in at WSAR in Fall River, MA by doing an hour of Bob’s show. Bob supervised. It was my first real on-air job. We’ve been friends ever since.

We’ve both been through a lot of living since that day in early fall 1969. I can’t go into all of it here, but there’s not much that’s remained constant, except our friendship.

Bob jokingly calls me his “Gold Friend.” It’s tough to think of anything anyone’s ever said of me that is quite that flattering.

In 1975 out of work and with my life falling apart in Phoenix, Bob flew out and together, we drove the Western United States and a small part of Mexico. That was an amazing trip.

When I think back of what we did, hitting Puerto Penasco, Mexico, Los Angeles, San Francisco, San Diego, Barstow, Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon, it still boggles the mind.

This was before cellphones and the Internet. We had a little cash and of the two of us, I had the lone credit card – an Esso card!

There were girls we tried to pick up… who blew us off, and two guys in San Diego who tried to pick us up! We cleaned our clothes by the dawn’s early light at a dusty laundromat alongside the railroad tracks in Barstow, CA. I spent all day playing $2 blackjack at Caesar’s.

We got along famously. Bob was my guiding light on that trip. By the time we returned to Phoenix, a new job had mysteriously appeared and I was off to Philadelphia.

Later today we plan on returning to the ‘scene of the crime,’ WSAR at the foot of Home Street in Somerset, MA. Then we head north to Boston and the Red Sox – White Sox game.

We don’t have tickets… but I’ve stuffed some cash in my wallet and we’ll hope for the best with scalpers. This will make three major league games in a month or so, after 15 years with none!

If everything works out as planned (and who knows) I’ll be on Amtrak before dark and in New Haven before midnight.

Photos and the actual trip report to follow.

Yankees Versus Angels – At Yankee Stadium

Last weekend, I took in a Phillies game. It was the first major league baseball game I’d seen in at least fifteen years. Yesterday I took in my second.

I got the call early in the week from my friend Steve. A friend of his, a Yankee season ticket hold, had an extra ticket. Would I like to go?

Later it came out, Steve knew I wasn’t a Yankee fan, but thought of this as a photo safari for me. Good thinking! Our seats were down low in right field, beyond the dugout.

I met Steve at 8:50 and we drove to our rendezvous point where Norm, the ticket holder, picked us up.

The drive to the Bronx was a breeze. We made one stop on the Hutch (see my previous entry) and then headed past Fordham University and the Bronx Zoo to a stop on the #4 train.

This was a great idea. I haven’t been to Yankee Stadium in nearly 50 years, but I’ve heard traffic is horrendous. Taking the train for the last few minutes eliminates the crush of traffic going into and out of the stadium. Anyway, I love the subway and can’t remember the last time I was on this classic elevated line.

Looking down the tracks from the Fordham Road station, all I could think of was a roller coaster. The tracks went downhill, not steadily, but with few little bumps along the way. Finally, they took a dip and disappeared.

Getting off the train put us right next to the stadium. We were too close to have any perspective of its physical size. There are majestic views of Yankee Stadium from the Major Deegan Expressway, but none from our vantage point.

Norm’s daughter joined us here and the four of us walked around the outer edge of the park and into the Stadium Club. The Stadium Club is a very nice restaurant. In a venue where a beer can cost $8.50, the Stadium Club’s prices keep pace! We sat down for brunch.

Norm had celebrated his birthday on Tuesday, like me. Part of what he wanted had to do with Yankees and he had made arrangements to get us down to the edge of the dugout before the game started.

Unfortunately, being that wasn’t quite enough. The players never showed and we retreated up the foul line to our seats.

Let’s talk a little about Yankee Stadium. I have been there before. It was some time in the late 50s or early 60s. My dad had somehow gotten tickets to a football Giants game.

It was a day as cold as I can remember. We sat under an overhang, in the end zone with an unobstructed view. The smell of cigar smoke was thick enough to cut with a knife.

I don’t remember anything about the football game. Nothing.

Sitting in our seats a few minutes before game time gave me a chance to look around. The stadium itself (as opposed to the field of play) was smaller than I expected. Though the paint and fixtures seemed to be in good repair, the stadium looked old and tired.

The field itself was spectacular. We had come early enough to watch the ritual as the lines were carefully painted up the base paths, along with the batter’s and coaches boxes. The infield dirt was gently raked and then lightly sprayed, turning it a beautiful brown.

I’m sorry I’m not a Yankee fan, because this was an amazing win for them. Trailing all game, and looking sad doing it, they rallied in the bottom of the ninth and won as Hideki Matsui lined a double into left field.

A few sections up, a group of Japanese fans celebrated in a way I haven’t seen since I saw my grandparents celebrate at my Bar Mitzvah!

All I could think about was the pitcher, Francisco Rodriguez – aka “K-Rod.” He’s on my fantasy league team. He had just given up two runs, four walks and picked up the loss! Ouch.

I must admit, the vast majority of the game was seen by me through the lens of my camera. I brought the Canon, both lenses and nearly 2 gb of memory. Nothing was wasted.

In fact, it wasn’t until after the game and a chance to thumb through my photos that I realized how awkward and stressful a pitcher’s motion is. This is the kind of thing you just don’t get to appreciate unless the motion is stopped.

Having seen the Phillies last week, I was ready to try some new and improved techniques. My timing on fly balls and swinging bats is better. I also decided to sacrifice ‘noise’ (the digital cameras equivalent of graininess in an old fashioned photo) in order to shoot with a very fast shutter and open aperture.

For most of the game I was capturing images at 1/3200 second. That was enough to freeze every bit of action I saw. Opening the lens a little less increased my depth of field, making it easier to get sharper pictures.

When men were on first, I turned the autofocus off, focused on 2nd base and hoped for a play there. A few times that move paid off. Mostly it didn’t.

My favorite shot came as Juan Rivera of the Angels chased down a home run to right. I caught him as he jumped, hoping to find he ball. He didn’t get it but I did… well, at least I got the shot.

As the game ended, we poured out of the stadium and headed back to the “el.” This strategy of Norm’s worked again. In ten minutes we were in the car and faced no traffic all the way home to Connecticut.

Isn’t this strange? After all these years I get to see baseball games on consecutive weekends. And, there’s the possibility of more. My friend Bob is coming up from Charlotte, North Carolina in a few weeks. We’re not totally set in our plans, but he’d like to see the Red Sox play the Angels at Fenway.

I’m ready.