What a crazy week for breaking news in the San Francisco Bay Area. First that whole bridge thing happened, which by the way has not been fixed as of Friday afternoon. Then a ship carrying a load of Gavin Newsom’s hair product sprung a leak in the bay making it impossible to for Gavin to make public appearances thus forcing “The Gav” to drop out of the race for California Governor. Well, I can’t confirm that the ship was carrying his hair stuff, but he did indeed drop out of the governor’s race. Poor Gav. 
Today started out looking like just another day. Nothing was really going on, seemed like it was going to be a light day. Then I got a call from Rick Romagosa over at the Chronicle checking to see if I had heard about the oil spill in the bay and wanted to know if I would be going up to shoot some aerials. My mind went back two years when the Cosco Busan crashed into the Bay Bridge (that bridge has had some rough times lately) and dumped 50,000 gallons of oil into the bay. Of course, I was out of town when that happened so I pretty much missed the whole thing. This time I was ready. I got on the horn with my editor Pierce in New York and started to talk about how we would cover this and asked about going up in a helicopter since there were some nice shots from the last spill.
As soon as I hung up the phone with Pierce I called over to the helicopter charter company that I use and set up a time for a flight. Not more than 5 minutes after I scheduled a noon flight, Pierce and I were looking at some raw aerial video online of the ship and the spill and we both realized that the oil slick wasn’t that big. At least it didn’t seem that way. We mulled over the flight and collectively decided against it. So, I cancelled it. Then I called him back and questioned our decision and then we decided to best be safe than sorry and I rescheduled the flight. Confusing, right?
The company that I charter with uses Schweizer 300CBi helicopters which are pretty scary to ride in. They are small, almost like a remote control toy. Well, not that small. Every time I ride in these small helicopters I can’t help to think that I may not return. Since our flight today would take us over water, we donned bright yellow flotation vests. That was a little unsettling. It’s not like we would have survived the impact of a crash to use that thing. My pilot Laura and I packed into the cramped cockpit and headed towards the Bay Bridge. Luckily, it isn’t that windy today since this aircraft gets tossed around quite a bit if it is windy. Every time we hit an air pocket my heart stops. I look down and thing about that ride at Great America where you free fall some 20 stories in a matter of seconds. I decide that it would probably feel like that if the Schweizer’s engine died. It takes us about 20 minutes to get over the hill and over the bay. It’s freezing cold flying with the door off. 
After doing a few passes along the Bay Bridge we head south to find the oil tanker Dubai Star and the oil slick that was supposed to be surrounding it. Unfortunately, the sheen that had been reported by every bay area radio and television station was not visible. We flew around the ship a few times but I couldn’t see any evidence of oil. We did a few more passes along the disable Bay Bridge (nothing like doing two stories at once) and headed back to the airport.
Laura safely put us back on the ground after an hour in the air. I want to kiss the ground but decide against it. Too dramatic.
The oil spill doesn’t seem to be that bad. I wanted to get a different perspective so I drove over to Oakland to see if I could see the ship from the shore. I stumbled across a group of workers from the Port of Oakland who were deploying an oil containment boom and made a few snaps of that. So far, wildlife doesn’t seem to be affected by the spill and there hasn’t been any evidence of oil on the shores of the bay.
I have to admit, I was totally unaware that this had occurred. I was at home on Tuesday night just hanging out and nowhere near the internet or a radio. It wasn’t until after 10pm that I saw the story. Thankfully the bridge didn’t come crashing down like the one in Minnesota. I would have been in trouble if that happened and I missed it.
I went out the Oakland side of the Bay Bridge on Wednesday morning to check out the traffic impact and damage. Some 280,000 cars cross the span each day but the roads that I was on weren't that backed up. The radio reports told a different story about ths San Mateo and Golden Gate bridges. It sounded like a nightmare.
It was a surreal experience to see the dozens of lanes and toll booths completely empty with the exception of a single CHP car making sure nobody snuck onto the bridge. What was even more surreal was when I drove across the upper deck of the western span heading towards San Francisco from Treasure Island and I was the only car on the road. I felt like I was doing something wrong. It reminded me of being in New Orleans after hurricane Katrina when you would drive on the freeway for miles and never see a soul.
Since Caltrans wasn’t promising that they were going to let the press near the area where they were performing the emergency repairs, I decided to find someone with a boat to get me closer to the action. I called my buddy Noah Berger but he was already out on the water shooting for the Chronicle. So, I hung out at the small marina on Treasure Island and started looking around for someone who might take me out. After about an hour a guy named Chad came up the dock with his friends and I asked him if he knew anyone who would charter a boat for a quick trip. It was a nice day and Chad was not too interested in going back to work so he agreed to take me out for $50.
It was a fun trip, even though I don’t really like being on boats. It was also one of those six degrees of separation moments. Turns out that Chad used to date a former Chronicle reporter who I had just met a few weeks prior through Noah Berger. Go figure. Thanks to Chad I was able to get photos of the workers doing the emergency repair. It was a quick trip on a really nice day and I didn’t barf. Not a bad day. 
Seventeen year-old Marissa Hamilton from Seattle, Washington arrived at Wellspring two months ago and weighed in at 340 pounds. In the first two months of her journey she has shed over 40 pounds and is on her way to losing much more. Marissa, or “Missy” as her friends like to call her, is an amazing young adult. I commend her for being open to the idea of someone photographing her in what most would be embarrassed of. She is a smart, driven and very positive person. She is one of the best subjects I have had the privilege of photographing. Usually when you follow someone around they are very conscious of the camera and are always asking you what they should do or will stop doing things once they hear the click of the shutter. Not Marissa. 
On the first day of hanging out with Marissa I met her at 7:15 in the morning before her and her classmates went on a morning walk. Every day is started with a physical activity and today was a 3 mile walk around the grounds of the academy. For the most part her and her friends just chatted amongst themselves as I shadowed them. Marissa mentioned a few times that I didn’t have to go on the entire walk if I didn’t want to or I could cut across the field to save my legs. The days were long and the students kept busy from morning to evening. The bulk of the day was spent in the classroom studying everything from math and english to chemistry and cooking. There were, of course, a lot of physical activities throughout the day like soccer, walking and kickboxing. Meals were offered three times a day with two snacks in between. Whenever we were in the cafeteria Marissa would always tell me that I had to eat something because if I was following her I had to eat the same food. I had a few meals with her and her friends and I thought the food wasn’t that bad. The buffalo sloppy joe that I ate was pretty tasty. Most of the students might disagree with me.
Marissa will be at the Academy until May of next year. She has set goals for herself and is aspiring to cut her weight down to 200 pounds. She is determined to achieve this goal as a tribute to her mother who died about a year ago, on the first week that she had originally attended Wellspring. She told me that her mother would have been proud of her doing so well at the school and she uses that for motivation. I was proud of her and I just met her. 
The week was inspiring for me. I got to hang out with a young girl who had a good head on her shoulders with a big future ahead of her. Hearing stories about some of Marissa’s fellow students that have lost over 100 pounds was just amazing to me. I wanted to put down the cameras and join them during their activities. I was actually a little disappointed on the second day when Marissa slept in and didn’t go on the three mile walk. I wanted to go. I’m just going to have to keep that inspiration going and get my butt back to the gym. 
During the ceremony, Rickey spoke to the crowd in his patented third person speak and kissed a framed replica of his old Athletics jersey. His daughters unveiled a giant jersey on the outfield wall which we were going to have a chance to take pictures of him posing by. We all walked out to the wall and waited for the man of the hour to come stand by his jersey. Again, we all agreed to play nice, let the picture happen and we would all walk away happy with pictures of a guy standing next to a wall. And then the TV guy showed up and was about a foot away from him as he held his golden base and pointed to his retired jersey. In the end it all sort of worked out, just not as great as it could have been. 
By the time I arrived at the Oracle Arena, the parking lots were about a third full and a line of police cars continued to stream in. A line of blue uniforms snaked from the parking lot the entrance of the arena. A sign above the door read “Forever Heroes.” The entire Oakland police force was in attendance, hundreds of them lined the back steps of the arena as the awaited the arrival of their fallen comrades. One by one, police escorted hearses carrying flag draped caskets passed under a giant American flag that hung from two Oakland fire department aerial trucks. In unison, police officers saluted as the casket was removed from the hearse and taken into the arena. 
Shortly after the service started, I went to file photos before continuing to cover what was expected to be a three hour event. After filing, I made my way over to the Coliseum to photograph the people watching the live feed. Right before I got the entrance I ran into a friend from the LA Times and she told me that she had been kicked out along with the rest of the press. She said that at the time of her ejection, she wasn’t even taking pictures. Apparently, someone in the Coliseum security team had decided to kick out all the press for no apparent reason. This was kind of bad news since there would certainly be some nice images from there.
I ran into Victor Blue and we were chatting with a TV crew for NBC. The TV was frustrated and left. Victor and I stuck around and chatted and out of nowhere a cop from Modesto came up to us and said we could go in now. This was great. Inside, about 5,000 people sat in the shade and stared at the big screens in right and left field. Everyone sat silent, some cried.
At the conclusion of the service I went to try and find a vantage point to shoot the procession of hearses and police vehicles. I had envisioned four hearses in a row with hundreds of police motorcycles making their way down the freeway. I found a nice overpass and waited for them to roll down the highway. As I waited, I watched a never ending flow of police cars mixed in with the traffic. Everyone seemed to be going the speed limit as the cop cars outnumbered the civilian cars 5 to 1. After a half hour of waiting, the freeway cleared and the first wave of motorcycles crested horizon. Unfortunately, the hearses weren’t all together so it was four mini processions followed by hundreds of police motorcycles and cars. In all of the police funerals that I have covered, I have never seen a turnout of this size. It was a site to see.
The last time this happened in California was in 1970, the year that I was born. Four California Highway Patrol officers were gunned down in a four and half minute gun battle during a traffic stop. Almost 40 years later, four more police officers lost their lives in similar fashion, this time in Oakland.
I had heard on the radio late Saturday afternoon that four O.P.D. officers had been shot in a traffic stop gone bad. I remember thinking that it was an unusually high number and maybe in fact the report was in error. After looking online I found a story to confirm that number and was now saying that all four officers had died. After a conversation with my editor, I made my way to the scene – 5 hours after the first shots had been fired.
After the sun went down, I headed over to the hospital where the officers had been taken. I had seen from earlier in the evening where family members and police officers grieved outside of the emergency room, but now it was quite. A few officers lingered along with members of the local clergy. A steady rain fell as I sat in my car watching as the men chatting when they formed a circle, held hands and prayed. It was a nice moment.
The O.P.D. held a press conference later in the evening to outline the events of the day. The mayor and top police brass fought back emotion as they described the shooting. Interim police Chief Howard Jordan paused a few times as he answered questions, doing his best to maintain his composure.
Confusion continued on Sunday when local media reported that the fourth officer had died but had actually only been declared brain dead. News of the fourth death prompted people to send in donations and drop off flowers at the police headquarters. By 3 in the afternoon, dozens of bouquets flanked the side entrance. Makeshift memorials also came to life at the scene of the shootings. A man set up flags in honor of the slain officers. Another woman and her daughter arranged candles and a poem near the doorway of the apartment where two of the officers and the suspect were killed as a crime scene unit continued to collect evidence.
A public vigil brought out hundreds of people just three days after the killings. People from all walks of life attended the early evening event. Many were brought to tears as city leaders led prayers and remembered the fallen officers. The makeshift memorials were now four times bigger than the day before and people continued to bring flowers.
Just down the street from where the vigil was being held, a smaller memorial had been erected in memory of Lovelle Mixon, the man who shot and killed the four officers. Mixon, a convicted felon and fugitive parolee, was also a suspect of interest in an unsolved murder case and his DNA had matched sperm samples from twelve year-old rape victim. He was also a suspect in several other rape cases, including one that involved an elderly woman. In handwritten messages alongside photos of Mixon, people praised him for killing the officers. He was viewed as a martyr. 
Knowing the history of this man, it was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen.
On one hand, it is a good thing to get the word out about the struggles of the people that are living out along the American River. But, unfortunately, the attention that the tent city is getting is also raising some red flags with the local government. I found out today that the mayor of Sacramento has decided to put an end to the encampment and plans to kick everyone out in the coming weeks, stripping these people of what little sense of normalcy that they have. It will be interesting to see what happens and where people end up going. The rumor is that the city will give homeless campers a two-day voucher for a local motel. Beyond that, who knows.
I spent most of Tuesday with the campers. I touched base with some of the people that I had met the previous week. I was surprised that almost all of them remembered my name. I think they were also surprised that I remembered their names. I ran into Tammy and Keith Day when I arrived, the couple that had warmed up to me last week after seeming to want have nothing to do with me. It was good to see them. They told me that I should have been there the night before since Tammy had made a huge dinner for them and their immediate neighbors. They are good about sharing what they have with others. I also learned that it was Keith’s birthday. He is 44.
Like before, I spent most of my day walking around and just hanging out with people. I ran into Ben and Renee and they invited me into their tent. I must have hung out with them for close to two hours while they cleaned up and rearranged their “home” and boiled water to wash dishes. They are finally catching up on their cleaning after the heavy rains of last week flooded their camp. The ground in front of their tent is still soft and damp but nothing like the wet mud that it was last week.
By the time I left the camp I had been there for over ten hours. I stayed until I couldn’t see anymore and most people had retired to their tents. Most people get up before dawn to hit the streets to collect cans for recycling. I understand it is quite competitive. A few campfires burned, with some people huddling around them, but for the most part the city was calling it a night.
A man named Jeff joined us on the tour, he had been at the camp for over 4 years, homeless close to 15 years. He said that when he first set up camp along the levee that there were only a few people. Now, there are hundreds peppered along the banks of the American River. I would later take a photo of Jeff standing by a row of tents. The day after I filed that photo I received an email from a woman that had seen the photo and said that she thought it was her long lost uncle. Her family hadn’t heard from him in years and thought that he had died. She told me that Jeff was originally from Colorado, and that is what Jeff had told me the previous day. His last name is unique enough that it is certain that he is the person that they are looking for.
Over the course of the two days I spent at the camp I met some amazing people. Most of them had been homeless for quite some time, others were new to being homeless. My days mostly involved talking with people and walking around. Some people wanted nothing to do with me, which was fine. I can’t blame them. Others were more than willing to share their entire life story – and then some. The community was very tight knit. People really looked out for each other, especially the elderly. Almost every person I met said the same thing, “we’re just trying to survive.”
One couple, Keith and Tammy Day, had recently moved into the camp after losing the home that they were living in. I approached them as they were starting to cook their evening meal over a small campfire fueled by a pallet that Keith had broken apart with a rock. I told them that I was interested in hearing their story. They were less than happy to see me.
Tammy sort of laid into me about privacy and how they really didn’t want anything to do with me. Keith voiced the same opinion and said he definitely didn’t want any pictures taken of him. I told them that I fully understood and was starting to walk away. Then something interesting happened. Tammy kept the conversation going, and she spoke for while. She vented her frustrations as she fried potatoes in an old pan. I chatted with Tammy and keith for 10 or 15 minutes, we had a good conversation. Tammy brought up my cameras and asked where the photos go that I shoot. After I explained to her what I do, she paused for a while and then out of the blue she said “if you want to take a couple pictures, you can. Just not a lot.”
A man named VJ came by early in the afternoon letting people know that he would be back to pass out some supplies. VJ, a former corporate executive, had started his own non-profit charity outfit and had been coming to the tent city to give people things like tents and clothing. A mob crowded his truck as dulled out boots, sleeping bags and bags of clothes. While he was handing out things I noticed that he had a small webcam on his shoulder. I asked him about this and he told me that he did live webcasts so people that had donated supplies could watch the tent city residents receiving the handouts.
VJ would tell people to give him a list of things that they needed so he could bring them things that wouldn’t go to waste. I asked VJ about his organization and he said that he just wanted to help people. He organization is not faith based and doesn’t appear to be pushing anything on the people he gives to. After further discussion, VJ explained that he himself had fallen on hard times since losing a well paying job a few years back. His home is in foreclosure and he felt it important to see eye to eye with the people that he may one day join on the streets. I am still amazed by this man’s story.
I stayed at the tent city until I couldn’t see anymore. There is no electricity out in the wasteland, only a few tents can be seen with a flicker of a candle. It was dark – pitch black. Some people had built fire rings near their camps but none were being used tonight. The only light came from a nearby Diamond Almond plant and the Sacramento skyline.
Most people would go to bed once the sun went down so they could get up before first light to go out and collect recycling. It is one of the few ways they make money to buy food. When I returned the next morning at 6:30 am, most were already out and about.
It is kind of an interesting story about how these candles came to be. A local realtor was struggling to make ends meet and decided to enroll in a graphic design class. After learning a few tricks he came up with the candle design. Since December, the “Just For Fun” store in San Francisco has sold over 1,000 of the candles at $12.95 a pop. There is also a two foot tall option that retails for $395. They have yet to sell one of those.
For a while after the sale, it seemed as if their purchase was a wise one. Staffers were traveling and the Christmas party in 2000 was huge. It was held at the Museum of Modern Art. They had fortune tellers, live music, endless amounts of food and drink. Sharon Stone was even there with her now ex-husband Phil Bronstein. It was a real good time.
Then, along came Craigslist, killing ad revenue, and the internet with its free content and the downward slide began.
The news about the Chronicle hits close to home for me. Well, it actually hits my home. My girlfriend is the Director of Photography at the paper and with yesterday’s news came the realization that she and many of my friends could be unemployed very soon. It is, in a word, frightening. Even though we have been thinking and talking about what would happen if one of us lost our job, it still is a rude awakening when the possibility becomes closer to reality. A flood of fear hits your body as you think about mortgages, car payments, food and utilities.
Lance is making his big bicycle racing comeback and has joined Team Astana. The team, which includes top riders from around the globe, is conducting a training camp ahead of the Amgen Tour of California which starts on Sunday the 15th of February. Today, they are going on a leisurely 105 mile ride.
Arleen (who was shooting for EPA) and I were lucky to team up with Kent since he knows all the back roads of Sonoma County. We would have been totally lost. We also learned a lot about Kent’s career as we drove down windy roads towards the coast. We were treated to a mini history of stories that Kent had covered over the years. He pointed out the spot where he had to cover the kids who were murdered in their car and the little dirt road he took to cover a wildfire a few years back. He said “I did a portrait of a woman right up there a few weeks ago” as we passed a house.
We hopped back in Kent’s company car and raced back down the hill in hopes of catching the pack one more time. After a few minutes of Arleen being quiet in the back seat I asked if she was susceptible to car sickness as Kent was whipping around the turns on the narrow winding road. She said she was fine but would let us know if that changed.
Back at the hotel, a small group of bicycle racing fans waited for Lance and the team to return from their journey. The riders tried to cut through the crowd and some took detours on paths leading to the hotel entrance. I was walking to the area where they park their bikes and almost got run over by Lance. Kent had to give me a heads up. He came out of nowhere. That would have been a bummer if we crashed into each other. 
Who said that there is no such thing as a free lunch? Well, it wasn’t technically lunch, but, Denny’s fed millions of people a Grand Slam breakfast today – free of charge. The chain restaurant delivered on its promise in a 
I have to give the staff at this particular Denny’s credit, this event was well organized. The line was orderly and names were put on a list to make sure that people were let in at the appropriate time. Wait staff passed out deep fried doughnut balls to people as they waited. People seemed happy.
The waitresses were slammed but all of them kept their cool. They were smiling and laughing and not getting pissed off when I would get in their way, which was often. They even took it in stride that people weren’t tipping. That would tick me off.
The cooks were churning out a record number of plates with eggs, pancakes and bacon. The kitchen was a disaster. It looked like a bomb had gone off, but still worked like a well oiled machine. The cooks seemed to be on autopilot as they slung eggs and hotcakes.
People kept asking me to take their picture. I think they thought I was affiliated with Denny’s or something. The official Grand Slam photographer. One guy asked me to take a picture of him and his 80 something year-old grandma. He put his arm around her and put on his best grin just as she had shoveled a big heaping forkful of eggs in her mouth. Her hand went up immediately. The picture was delayed.
I stayed at the Denny’s for over an hour. The people just kept coming in. When I left, the line was longer than when I went in. After seeing all that grease flying in the kitchen, I bet Denny’s could have made up for the lost income by selling Tums at the register.
I was in my position on the North riser by 8am. The program would begin a little after 11am. From my vantage point I could see the Mall filling in with people. The crowds were insane. There was also a ton of cops, hundreds lined the streets. The sun was out, which was great, but wind started to pick up and it got really cold. You really felt the chilly air being on top of that riser. We did our best to shield ourselves from the cold. People in crowd huddled together to keep warm.
The swearing in was quick and the speakers were limited. Cheney looked miserable in his wheelchair wearing his sinister black hat and puffy third grader gloves. I mean, he usually looks miserable but the wheelchair made him look even more so. After Obama was sworn in and gave his speech, Bush gave his a big hug and that was all she wrote. 
When it was over, still photographers had to hustle to an awaiting shuttle that would drop us off at spots along the parade route while others would be in front of the motorcade on a flatbed truck. As we assembled on the steps of the Capitol, a Marine helicopter flew overhead carrying the now former President George Bush. It was no longer called Marine One for his quick trip Andrew’s Air Force base and then home to Texas. I overheard a few unkind words as the chopper passed.
As we rode the shuttle down Pennsylvania Avenue, we all noticed the bleachers that lined the street were practically empty. It was like a ghost town. Where’d all those people go? Even as we approached my position in front of the White House, the seats were more than half empty. Apparently there was some kind of problem with the security checkpoints. I think people were just frozen from standing out on the Mall all day that they said screw it and went back to their hotel.
A small group of us waited on the roof of the press stand across the street from the White House. It was still breezy and getting colder by the minute. The parade was supposed to start at 2pm but ended up starting close to 2 hours late. We all watched the really nice light slowly disappear. When Obama finally made his way down the street on foot, we were for the most part blocked by the press trucks. It was a lot of waiting for very little.
I was able to choke down a hamburger before putting my suit on and heading to the Home States Ball - one of the 10 plus balls that the Obamas would attend. It was a mile or so trek to the convention center. My legs were holding up, but they were definitely tired. While walking, we passed Richard Branson on the street. He appeared to be struggling with his luggage. It was pretty random to see him there y himself. I later saw Ron Howard walking along by himself. Equally as random.
A cheesy cover band entertained us with Journey and Kool and the Gang songs as we waited for over two hours for the President and the First Lady to arrive at the ball. Shortly after 9, the President arrived. He and Michelle greeted the crowd, had a quick dance and were out the door in about 5 minutes. After filing, I was wiped, but needed a drink. I headed to a Burning Man type party with my pal Allison Shelley from the Washington Times. The party was fun. There were fire dancers (which we missed) belly dancers, a little mini rave room and plenty of art. It was an interesting end to a long and tiring day.
The big official opening to the Inaugural festivities is a star studded concert at to the Lincoln Memorial. It’s a free concert that Obama and Biden will be attending with their families. The concert is a big HBO production and apparently they wanted full exclusive rights and tried to ban the press from covering it. That went over like a lead balloon and in the end they lost that battle. I think they ended up with exclusive TV rights though.
Thanks to a tight TV production schedule, the show went off right on time with The Bidens and then The Obamas walking down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial while a military band played, or should I say pretended to play. I had watched them “playing” earlier and noticed that they were pretty much faking it as a tape played. The drummer wasn’t hitting the drums and the cymbal guy wouldn’t actually hit the cymbals together. Bizarre.
I’m not a huge variety show kind of guy, but this show was pretty good. Well produced and only an hour and a half. I was half expecting it to go all night when I heard the long list of people performing. It was a mixture of celebrities reciting stories and quotes by Abraham Lincoln and performances by some big name artists. Most did one song, some did two or three.
Some of the highlights were The Boss singing with a choir and John Mellencamp totally getting down during his performance of Pink Houses. He went wild, didn’t know he had it in him. U2 was good, was surprised to see the whole band, we had heard it was just going to be Bono. I couldn’t figure out what Sheryl Crow was doing as she did this weird, almost handicapped-had to pee her pants looking walk across the stage during her tune with Will.i.am. Ashley Judd fought back tears as she spoke and Tom Hanks appeared to be vying for another Oscar award with his overly dramatic presentation. I can’t even remember half of the people who spoke or performed. I do remember Shakira. I am not too familiar with her music but she is HOT. 
The Obamas watched the show from a bulletproof glass box on the side of the stage. I couldn’t see them very well from where I was, but what I could see they looked to be having fun. Biden spoke during the show or should I say he “yelled” to the crowd. Despite having a microphone and good sound system he shouted at the people. Kind of like the way they portray him on SNL.
Obama spoke after Biden from a big podium under the watchful eye of Abraham Lincoln. His speech was short and sweet. The show finished up with the Boss and doing their rendition of “This Land is Your Land” followed by all of the celebs returning to the stage to meet and greet Obama.
After we packed up all of our gear and finished filing pictures we walked close to two miles back to the office. This was the start of many days of walking with tons of equipment since the city was become more and more closed off.
My first day was mellow, picking up credentials and doing a few features before covering a ball in the evening. There were people from all over the country on the Metro. Everyone was in a good mood and having fun despite the frigid weather.
The streets around the White House were clogged with people taking pictures and buying schwag from street vendors. You could buy just about anything with Obama’s face on it. There were dozens of shirts, ties, hats, plates, posters, buttons and even watches. Most of it was extremely tacky. T-shirts with an iron on rubber patch image of the “First Family” superimposed in front of the White House looked like an ad for a new sitcom. There was a button that showed Obama whispering into Michelle’s ear that could have easily been the cover of a cheesy soft core porn novel.
Sound checks were underway at the Lincoln Memorial for the big “We Are One” concert that was set for Sunday. When I arrived, John Mellencamp was onstage rehearsing “Pink Houses” and a crowd of people had gathered behind the security fence to watch. I showed my credential for the show to the Park Police officer and he let me into the secured area. I mingled around and shot a few frames of Mellencamp. I soon realized that I wasn’t supposed to be in the area since everyone had pre-event credentials. So, I hid my credentials and tried to keep a low profile until the crews broke for lunch. It was puzzling to me that I could get through all that security with the wrong pass.
I arrived at the People’s Inaugural Ball to discover that I was the first one there. When I say the first one, I’m not saying the first press person, I was pretty much the first person. Not a good sign. I asked the man at the press check-in if he was expecting any notable people to be in attendance. He kind of looked at me blankly for a second and then rattled off a short list of former NFL players. I took that as a no.
The story is tragic. A 22 year-old African American man was fatally shot in the back by a Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) police officer during an altercation on a train in the early hours of New Year’s Day. Cell phone videos taken by people on the scene showing the shooting have been circulated on YouTube and are not a pretty sight to see. It is incomprehensible that such a thing could happen which appears to be for no apparent reason. 
I was a little late to the service, but since there were so many people there for the open casket viewing I was able to get in before it started. Open caskets services always seem to be tougher than ones that aren’t. Friends and family are more emotional, some can’t bring themselves to even approach the casket. One woman had to be escorted out of the church as she broke down.
Following the service, there was a demonstration at the Fruitvale BART station in Oakland where Mr. Grant was killed. Hundreds showed up with signs to listen to a lineup of speakers who demanded justice for shooting. Some signs compared the shooting to the killings in Palestine. Some people had signs taped to their backs the said “don’t shoot.”
I left to go home when the demonstration started to disperse and a small group embarked on a march. A splinter group of anarchist types (who apparently weren’t affiliated to the group that organized the protest and were more or less opportunists) broke off from that march and went on a vandalism spree in Downtown Oakland. They damaged a police car, burned trash cans and shattered windows before parking themselves in the middle of a downtown Oakland intersection. At least 100 of them were arrested for their antics. Of course, as my luck would have it, I was home when this happened and missed the entire thing. I need to figure out a way to clone myself so I can be in more than one place at once.
I covered my first MacWorld eight years ago. Today, I covered my last. At least I think I did. Mac lovers around the globe have been in mourning since Apple announced that I will not participate in the annual convention after this year. They also let it be known a few weeks ago that their showman, Steve Jobs, wouldn’t be delivering the keynote for their swan song. If that wasn’t enough, Jobs said the day before the start of the convention that he is indeed ill as everyone had suspected. Needless to say, this MacWorld was a bummer.
Phil Schiller, a VP of Marketing at Apple, stepped in for Jobs to deliver the keynote address. Phil is no stranger to MacWorld keynotes. I think he has made some sort of appearance at just about every MacWorld that I have covered. He’s usually pretty funny. Today, not so much.
He did announce a new 17” MacBook Pro laptop which has the option of a non-glare screen. Many people have whined about the glossy glass screen that they have on the 12 and 15 inch MacBooks. I guess Apple heard the complaint. The only caveat is it comes with a price. You want non-glare, shell over 50 bucks.
The most notable thing of the day was the announcement iTunes going DRM free. Digital rights managed music on iTunes will soon be a thing of the past. I wish I really knew what that meant. I think it is something to do with music sharing. Anyway, that was the big news of the day. I wish it was easier to photograph something like that.
The show was capped off with a performance by Tony Bennett. He emerged on a moving stage that was so far from where the press was sitting you pretty much needed a high power telescope to see him. He, of course, sang “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” to close keynote and end the Apple’s run at MacWorld. 
The second thing isn’t as exciting as that, but it was nice to cover something related to the economy that wasn’t bad news. Since people have all but stopped buying new cars, auto repair shops are seeing a surge in business. It makes sense, people would rather invest 600 or so dollars to maintain there aging car instead of dropping a bunch of cash and taking on a payment for a new one.
I visited a couple of repair shops, both were filled with cars. There were lots of cars in for tune ups and oil changes. Tires were also popular. Fred, one of the owner’s of San Rafael Firestone, apologized that the shop was a little messy. He said it had been too busy lately for the guys to give the shop a good cleaning. Seemed like a good excuse to me.
One of the great things about my job is all the people that I get to meet. I meet people from all walks of life, each one with their own unique story. More often than not, my time with these folks is limited and rarely is it possible to see the looks on their faces when they see the photo that was taken of them. I assume that most people might not ever see the photo that was taken. Some might be surprised when they see themselves in the newspaper. If I do get feedback about a job I have done, it is usually from my editors, colleagues or the PR guy who wants me to give him a picture for free. But, every now and again I will shoot something that touches the heart of someone.
Laid off construction workers, real estate agents and mortgage brokers dressed in suits carrying briefcases and folders containing their resumes crammed into the Crown Plaza hotel in Concord in hopes of landing a job. I was blown away at how many people there were. They just kept coming in the door.
Companies like Comcast and Sears were courting unemployed workers. I am not sure how many jobs were actually available but I thought I heard someone say 200 from the dozens of vendors in attendance.
A range of different faces peppered the long line as people waited to get in to the expo. People from all walks of life did their best to make light of the difficult situation. I overheard two women talking, one of them saying that she had been out of work for close to two years. The other would be one year in February.
I can only hope that things will improve for these people and for the many good friends of mine that are in a similar situation.
Posts
