tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32699739444193411942024-03-12T18:56:27.251-07:00At Home And On The RoadStories and Observations From a Working PhotojournalistJustin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-60891591340848870162009-12-18T09:22:00.000-08:002009-12-18T09:59:29.537-08:00The Other Unannounced Trip<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0r-hI4_58M4VhvDzDQigSS5sGNvrsowvsp1PxxndxASb3qXg3db1givDrvjCYB1eA14laVQjKHhGvyY1BvqpB6dijDlUacPyc8RZRKCjnuDcISD-jO_j8Tztmpe8SeyiUjPk-FSbYSg08/s1600-h/gates7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0r-hI4_58M4VhvDzDQigSS5sGNvrsowvsp1PxxndxASb3qXg3db1givDrvjCYB1eA14laVQjKHhGvyY1BvqpB6dijDlUacPyc8RZRKCjnuDcISD-jO_j8Tztmpe8SeyiUjPk-FSbYSg08/s400/gates7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416631572068252034" border="0" /></a>After a somewhat disappointing couple of days in Kabul, we were pulling up stakes and making an unannounced trip to <a href="http://premium.asia.cnn.com/WORLD/maps/iraq.baghdad.jpg">Baghdad</a>. We, of course, knew about the trip, but it was apparently news to the rest of the world. We cleaned out our underground room and dropped our bags off by 6AM. It would be a few hours before the motorcade would roll back to the airport so I headed over to the mess hall to have breakfast with the FOX crew.<br /><br />The mess hall, called “Goat House” had a pretty extensive lineup of food offerings. Everything from made to order eggs to waffles and every imaginable kind of breakfast meat. Since I like burritos, I thought I would give one of the little breakfast burritos a try. I won’t be doing that again. I couldn’t even identify what was in this thing. When I cut it in half <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBjoVac_hI4vSf7dHsrDDG7_3t-yjYBeoIR7DA4edqSr1n9u7rFUmxL2DB2HI-iX0jzXq-UEjvv4MdCLOFGZMv4oM-uo53ibJPq27iC4dhzB-3VH2tTY7T7_Jx3nQpv9wc9tL6OCot74c/s400/Breakfast+Burrito+1+450.jpg">a molten blob of yellowish goo slowly oozed out.</a> Was it cheese? Eggs? I honestly couldn’t tell. Even the taste was somewhat unfamiliar. It was a little cheesy tasting, but not really. I’m sticking to cereal from now on.<br /><br />There was one last photo op at Eggers before we left. Bob would be meeting with the British Minister of Defense and we had about a minute or so at the top of the meeting to do a photo spray. The staff referred to him as the “<a href="http://www.londonlee.com/chipshop/chippics/mod.jpg">MOD</a>” which led me to wonder if he would arrive on a <a href="http://stuartfrew.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/quadrophenia-the-who1.jpg">Vespa with a green parka on that had a Who patch on the back</a>. The FOX cameraman asked if he had <a href="http://www.catanna.com/webart.jpg">shaggy hair</a>.<br /><br />The spray took place in a really small room that could barely fit 5 people let alone the 20 or so that would soon pack in for the meeting. Right before the top of the meeting we were told that some of the British press would be coming in. I staked out my spot and waited. Seconds before Gates came in with the “MOD” a TV crew and a stills guy came in and proceeded to push me and the FOX cameraman out of the way. It was unreal. At least they didn’t just stand in front of us. I’ve gone down that road before.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9WWt07nF-E6ahe1B-K7wW0bBZxknB2CQvAudaebjvgM2WZsECXv12sorV0ELwkGXceJB8b6VKgPivXT1Iq7Ut6n2f04ZRT20CmXfD2zMXm_8tbhXUiyIP5a9SVMaSIli5gwih7vxtOho/s1600-h/gates2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9WWt07nF-E6ahe1B-K7wW0bBZxknB2CQvAudaebjvgM2WZsECXv12sorV0ELwkGXceJB8b6VKgPivXT1Iq7Ut6n2f04ZRT20CmXfD2zMXm_8tbhXUiyIP5a9SVMaSIli5gwih7vxtOho/s400/gates2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416631349269931106" border="0" /></a>We all geared up and made our way to the airport where an <a href="http://www.aerospaceweb.org/aircraft/transport-m/c17/c17_04.jpg">Air Force C-17 cargo plane</a> would take us to Baghdad. The press and staff would sit along the walls of the plane in jump seats while Bob would be inside a customized <a href="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2007/04/15/automobiles/600-airstream-01.jpg">Airstream trailer</a> that was safely secured in the cargo hold. The five-hour flight was pretty uneventful. Unfortunately, I had packed away my iPod in my backpack that was now under a ton of bags that were strapped to a pallet. This made the flight a little dull. At least we had power so I could get some work done.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjupTAliOAqM85Ga5uNsC5zaujNdg948yuLltjVFs-uMefecZzYATR-Hbc-c7o_xmE_B006Yt_6exh67o3ts07f-0kglb9PMYrz7Fb2iPsx5PkTlk8_cCjCwxmqw-TesP0ruBw85YetA5/s1600-h/gates3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjjupTAliOAqM85Ga5uNsC5zaujNdg948yuLltjVFs-uMefecZzYATR-Hbc-c7o_xmE_B006Yt_6exh67o3ts07f-0kglb9PMYrz7Fb2iPsx5PkTlk8_cCjCwxmqw-TesP0ruBw85YetA5/s400/gates3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416631128681606418" border="0" /></a>It was nice to walk off the C-17 onto the tarmac in Baghdad and see the sun shining with temps well into the 60’s. The cold in the ‘Stan was getting old. About 100 yards away from the plane eight Army <a href="http://www.strangemilitary.com/images/content/103969.jpg">UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters</a> waited to take us to <a href="http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/iraq/images/dg-baghdad_camp_victory-01.jpg">Camp Victory</a>, a five minute ride. Soldiers stood at attention outside the birds as the delegation made their way across the tarmac.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfA348P4BofGrhdiaUi0_paVkhh-xlkbp_yayyuVYOHkCU3pGPkiD0_Bofr_DF27NOzt6n90n68eyLTYopiA0a1GZxMohHgkld4sWzKL_G2NNwGUOVwUJxfcbQd9aziQEXt3XIhB12w5rI/s1600-h/gates1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfA348P4BofGrhdiaUi0_paVkhh-xlkbp_yayyuVYOHkCU3pGPkiD0_Bofr_DF27NOzt6n90n68eyLTYopiA0a1GZxMohHgkld4sWzKL_G2NNwGUOVwUJxfcbQd9aziQEXt3XIhB12w5rI/s400/gates1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416630932348998754" border="0" /></a>Being back in Iraq was like going back to my old neighborhood or seeing a house that you used to live in. We flew over the airport terminal and the infamous <a href="http://media3.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/graphic/2005/11/04/GR2005110400698.gif">Baghdad Airport Road</a> where I used to come to pick up colleagues at the airport. There was the parking lot where we would wait and on a few occasions watched mortars fall about 100 yards away in an open field. The memories were flooding back. The quick flight dropped us off near Saddam’s <a href="http://www.charmaignescott.com/Al%20Faw%20Palace2.jpg">Al-Faw Palace</a>. I was in this place back in 2004 and was so surprised at how poor the craftsmanship was for being such a grand palace.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_mVJWCbpg-zUg7A-TjMtuy_NYugtm7APEhD-TfsStKG3LKEYuZtk0t0V7xj5SiMXTP1rhZs-V48t7xb2dIIqPE83GLI8X_ygRxDfUozG8EyiygXMR946Sauf4pDLCPW7ndCM1XZA3xYx/s1600-h/gates5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_mVJWCbpg-zUg7A-TjMtuy_NYugtm7APEhD-TfsStKG3LKEYuZtk0t0V7xj5SiMXTP1rhZs-V48t7xb2dIIqPE83GLI8X_ygRxDfUozG8EyiygXMR946Sauf4pDLCPW7ndCM1XZA3xYx/s400/gates5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416629988237096050" border="0" /></a>We were dropped at the Palace Hotel, adjacent to the Al-Faw Palace. It is a pretty nice hotel, a little gaudy, but nice. Bob and his staff would be staying in the hotel, the rest of us are staying in trailers with bunk beds. The rooms and beds were a step up from Camp Eggers.<br /><br />An hour after getting off the helos, we were back on. We would gear up with flacks and kevlars as our flight was taking us out of the confines of the base and over Baghdad to the <a href="http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/iraq/images/cnn-green-zone-map.jpg">Green Zone</a> where Bob was to meet with Iraqi President Jalal Talabani and Prime Minister Nouri Maliki.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEqLQu6lOZw523YTqA-QLeQPgsNe-N2P-QPZAoCOnGj5f4QN_DdHCx7vvjEqX-3m9M9lfNhQJ60BvOm3UJwyRLXYdy7M04XZWYMzymbsA_YZAs5Rf0wRsq90GouhG7Kl6pJLZDVDFRzaX/s1600-h/gates4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEqLQu6lOZw523YTqA-QLeQPgsNe-N2P-QPZAoCOnGj5f4QN_DdHCx7vvjEqX-3m9M9lfNhQJ60BvOm3UJwyRLXYdy7M04XZWYMzymbsA_YZAs5Rf0wRsq90GouhG7Kl6pJLZDVDFRzaX/s400/gates4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416629693509735282" border="0" /></a>The ride over took us over the hotel where I used to stay, looks like it is still pretty much in tact despite being hit a couple times. After landing the motorcade made its way through the Green Zone, the pool was in the second to last car behind about ten. Upon arrival we had to run to get there before Bob got out of his car, he never waits for us. We were rushed into the meeting where throngs of press were already set up for the blink of an eye photo spray at the top of the meeting. The room was another dark one. After a few snaps we were escorted out.<br /><br />There was supposed to be another photo spray for the next meeting with the presidential council but after waiting for over an hour we saw a rush of Iraqi TV crews come out of the room and we were told that we had missed it. Glad someone was looking out for us. This was where the day started to fall apart.<br /><br />The schedule was going through a last minute change after PM Maliki cancelled his sit down with Bob and we were now on our way to the <a href="http://urbanneighbourhood.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/us-embassy-baghdad.jpg">US Embassy</a> to pay a visit. The Maliki snub would end up being the big news of the day even though it wasn’t really a snub. The dude was busy in some other meeting about the horrific bombing that occurred days earlier.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0OwsIdfdWNUOXB4oKhA9ZEVn2hCp3iCD-vqMXA8mBQf-ZVzjzWT-2_-xHpJOoocCNN5hyphenhyphenlSr9oEgAFGs3VlvH2KHoc4wq-rblWnWPcIoBW88EdXx8Gdf-UcudyOVvbI2pfHtg7ODvmEE/s1600-h/gates6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0OwsIdfdWNUOXB4oKhA9ZEVn2hCp3iCD-vqMXA8mBQf-ZVzjzWT-2_-xHpJOoocCNN5hyphenhyphenlSr9oEgAFGs3VlvH2KHoc4wq-rblWnWPcIoBW88EdXx8Gdf-UcudyOVvbI2pfHtg7ODvmEE/s400/gates6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416629258670079570" border="0" /></a>The Embassy was something else. A billion dollar building that resembles a maximum security prison in the middle of an ugly crumbling. I’d show you a picture of it, but I would have been shot trying to take that picture. It is really incongruous of its locale. The inside was a modern glass and steel structure the kind of place you see in Manhattan, not Baghdad. I can’t believe that they spent so much money to build this place.<br /><br />There was confusion when we got back to the helicopters. Since it was dark and lights aren’t often used we had to rush to find the helicopter that we arrived on. Well, most of us made it. After donning the flack and Kevlar we noticed that the FOX producer and cameraman weren’t on the helo. One of the crew went to try and locate them to no avail. As we lifted off I couldn’t help thinking that we had broken the golden rule to leave no man behind. I expected to look down and see <a href="http://www.gonemovies.com/WWW/MyWebFilms/Oorlog/platoonElias4.jpg">the scene from Platoon</a> when Willem Dafoe was running across the field being shot by the enemy. Thankfully, the FOX guys made it back to Camp Victory where they received more than their fair share of ribbing.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-45033844640493646572009-12-17T12:21:00.000-08:002009-12-17T12:44:35.894-08:00Scrubbedistan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkK3YpyrC3uNoaFI92dVY0WMR4wlUocFWtQis8It41jZt2BQPVbJt95DpsDfiyc0cl-ZYjnM1TmGLbsQKu6qkucpKn3aZC8ddbjOtp6iocVHEX8dUKlfKaP7NAvmfTBOjdo1rJUFoHuCdV/s1600-h/gates3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkK3YpyrC3uNoaFI92dVY0WMR4wlUocFWtQis8It41jZt2BQPVbJt95DpsDfiyc0cl-ZYjnM1TmGLbsQKu6qkucpKn3aZC8ddbjOtp6iocVHEX8dUKlfKaP7NAvmfTBOjdo1rJUFoHuCdV/s400/gates3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416308765020381026" border="0" /></a>A light snow fell as I walked to the mess hall in the pre-dawn darkness. This weather would threaten our planned trip to helo to a forward operating base near Kabul and our hour long flight to Kandahar on a C-17 where Gates would meet with troops. We would have to wait and see how the day panned out, but it wasn’t looking good.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfVT1ORxsgbBOfhUp9BdYStBr4w_6hvnf51jBDgNoA4HjjrXXS0hLU34cZ2MbpTFScXIFtl-zLQ5KoL-pwzni3a29rDx2s0fgeaHb_swlZdXuDhItAQyy39-H5_ehzTbXVQ5UEuZcEpEo/s1600-h/gates4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfVT1ORxsgbBOfhUp9BdYStBr4w_6hvnf51jBDgNoA4HjjrXXS0hLU34cZ2MbpTFScXIFtl-zLQ5KoL-pwzni3a29rDx2s0fgeaHb_swlZdXuDhItAQyy39-H5_ehzTbXVQ5UEuZcEpEo/s400/gates4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416308583041512706" border="0" /></a>We geared up and got into the motorcade about 9 am and moved over to the airport. Gates came later with Matt Lauer in tow, they had some arranged interview that they were going to try and pull off in the helicopter on our way to FOB Black Horse. The helicopters had not yet arrived by the time Gates had arrived, so plans were made for the Secretary to meet with people in the joint command center. The room was a dark dungeon with awful lighting, the kind that can never be color corrected no matter how hard you try. He was briefed by coalition forces and then greeted every person in the room in a receiving line where he shook hands and passed out challenge coins.<br /><br />Word came the helicopters had arrived so we all made our way out to the flight line where we stood in a misty rain for about 20 minutes before the flight command pulled the plug on the flight. The weather was too unpredictable and they didn’t want to get stuck somewhere if visibility diminished. The C-17 flight to Kandahar was also scrubbed for similar concerns. Our day was shot. The events that were scheduled would have made for nice pictures, now we had nothing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO49IqEpi48hhi5FrCg5PYZCgciCaUFF3ZK5jGKXQYecO7U2_nGzDhHk5fjjkDVSYzZBypWK1JY9AQEhpVyU10hxS_uhjlfveT4Qr0lmMmI9FApE4pSMP7u3nh4zbnlISq-0rPk3g2AprB/s1600-h/gates2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO49IqEpi48hhi5FrCg5PYZCgciCaUFF3ZK5jGKXQYecO7U2_nGzDhHk5fjjkDVSYzZBypWK1JY9AQEhpVyU10hxS_uhjlfveT4Qr0lmMmI9FApE4pSMP7u3nh4zbnlISq-0rPk3g2AprB/s400/gates2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416308406583832034" border="0" /></a>Staff scrambled to set up more things for the Secretary to do. We made a break for lunch before heading to a NATO aviation training facility where Gates met with NATO forces that were being trained in piloting and maintenance of aircraft. He toured a Russian-made helicopter and a large transport plane before doing a interview on the tarmac with CBS News. Matt Lauer ever got to do his fancy in-flight interview.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TPb13gNe_TVdy48TWqRop_MIXs0THJ4H9S7b_v-aeKwoqyfntZO1Rol-7wLa8S6TsYN0x9aCasCdmjyFeVRYdetZzKmEg5MhpYzNamtOLnuaUwfBvb6wHFJoj1DjnswebdScqSxt4u1B/s1600-h/gates1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TPb13gNe_TVdy48TWqRop_MIXs0THJ4H9S7b_v-aeKwoqyfntZO1Rol-7wLa8S6TsYN0x9aCasCdmjyFeVRYdetZzKmEg5MhpYzNamtOLnuaUwfBvb6wHFJoj1DjnswebdScqSxt4u1B/s400/gates1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416308225407941474" border="0" /></a>Once again, we were back in the motorcade heading to our final destination of the day, the U.S. Embassy. The visit was a last minute add to the schedule, and would be our final event of the abbreviated day. Gates met with the Ambassador and spoke briefly with embassy workers. The staff was very nervous about us being inside the embassy and would not allow us to move anywhere without an escort. We were told that we could only point our cameras in one direction, towards the podium where the Secretary would give his remarks. It was a weird feeling to be an American in the U.S. Embassy and to be so looked over and scrutinized.<br /><br />It was 4:00 when we arrived back at Camp Eggers. We had a lid on the day, which means we were done. The rest of the night was ours to do whatever we wanted to do which was limiting seeing that we couldn’t leave the base. I fired up my BGAN and sent my pictures from the day. The clouds were lifting a little and the nearby mountains boasted a fresh new layer of snow. It was colder today, but comfortable enough for me to stand outside for an hour while my pictures slowly transmitted.<br /><br />On my way to shop at the PX, I passed the mob of soldiers who were serving as a backdrop for Matt Lauer and Al Roker’s live Today Show broadcast. The highly staged event had soldiers wearing Santa Claus hats and holding signs near lit up armored vehicles. The soldiers seemed to love it as they were coached by producers to cheer and wave their signs on cue.<br /><br />With any luck, we will be able to move out tomorrow if the weather cooperates.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-21031594608099607782009-12-10T00:14:00.000-08:002009-12-17T12:19:15.072-08:00Middle East Swing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmhLKDpNi7JlOdxVE6raQWl3FuVJ-axp9sPAEwh3LVG46Q6MQ25xxHYiNJrsZRAo8HS6Vn2puFYnsgXI9MucSQ8Bv-Q6kG20-ABHBpXdJsC4dIC6zVOW6k1GSCSr4zSnbbk5ME_o6V0JZ/s1600-h/gates1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmhLKDpNi7JlOdxVE6raQWl3FuVJ-axp9sPAEwh3LVG46Q6MQ25xxHYiNJrsZRAo8HS6Vn2puFYnsgXI9MucSQ8Bv-Q6kG20-ABHBpXdJsC4dIC6zVOW6k1GSCSr4zSnbbk5ME_o6V0JZ/s400/gates1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416298707802109298" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">It has been over 5 years since the last time I</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> was in the <st1:place st="on">Middle East</st1:place> and I was looking forward to going again. My boss asked me to fulfill our Department of Defense pool obligation and travel with Secretary of Defense Robert Gates to <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Afghanistan</st1:place></st1:country-region>, a country I have never been to. The weeklong trip to the war torn country comes just one week after Obama announced that he will be sending some 30,000 more troops to fight in the war. </span><div><div><div><div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">The trip was originally schedu</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">led to depart from <a href="http://www.andrews.af.mil/">Andrews Air Force base</a> this past Sunday but ended up being changed to Monday which left me with a whole weekend in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Washington</st1:city> <st1:state st="on">DC</st1:state></st1:place>. After a couple days of catching up with friends and taking in a few of the Smithsonian museums that were on my list of things to see, we went wheels up from Andrews at 10am on Monday morning. We are flying on Gates’ Air Force <a href="http://www.strategic-air-command.com/aircraft/command/e-4B_NOAC_Airplane.htm">E-4B</a>, a <a href="http://www.flightglobal.com/airspace/media/militaryaviation1946-2006cutaways/images/10904/boeing-e-4b-cutaway.jpg">militarized 747</a> designed to serve as a mobile command post for the president and secretary of state. It is loaded with communications equipment once used to monitor the Russians during the cold war and is so hi-tech that it even has exterior paint that can resist nuclear radiation. It is also capable of <a href="http://cache3.asset-cache.net/xc/57564860.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=1B49275C403CF3A8B6BC0A21E5567BD8A31B30A24EF7A63FD59A972C957C5F1FE30A760B0D811297">mid air refueling</a> so we were able to fly to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Kabul</st1:place></st1:city> non-s</span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">top. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHlnljCxVYr4E2CzfxVMdaaJKkfd2KuN_-SUjWY9y2KN6i-XW2xF7uX6vXN5aJssxwdb34eKojnTwWYLzSFuB_tNo5eSgxM1dJRV2WaEHOw29aEDn-oB4cEBEFalboY-ewOV79hBOwxZ8/s1600-h/gates2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHlnljCxVYr4E2CzfxVMdaaJKkfd2KuN_-SUjWY9y2KN6i-XW2xF7uX6vXN5aJssxwdb34eKojnTwWYLzSFuB_tNo5eSgxM1dJRV2WaEHOw29aEDn-oB4cEBEFalboY-ewOV79hBOwxZ8/s400/gates2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416298497819028898" border="0" /></a></p><div> </div><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">There are about 20 members of the press on trip, including Today Show host <a href="http://6.media.tumblr.com/a6IM9fpexkcc0vzwtoxbwwFIo1_400.jpg">Matt Lauer</a>, who was being asked for photos an autographs by the plane’s crew. Gates came back to the 21 seat press cabin once we were airborne for a quick media briefing. At the conclusion of his face time with the press, he apologized to us for having to eat the food he likes on this flight. Our first meal was <a href="http://blog.heritage.org/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/bacon-cheeseburger.jpg">bacon cheeseburgers</a> with a side of Cole slaw, chips and a mini Bundt cake. Very <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Americana</st1:city></st1:place>. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">I tried to get sleep on the flight hoping to counter the affects of a morning landing of an international flight. I should have accepted the Ambien being offered by the plane’s doctor because I couldn’t manage to get a single minute of shut eye and we had a full schedule once we touched down.</span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCndGC5UGisOvu7mTH2RU2r9YK1spQ9h_uD5coSpkrXKK45eNjATMYVxGTWk9e28jOwpuYOuiDCx6VS5HryJbw7TAyik6ddVZwrtqEaj_gdVki7JvqVWjFSRRftk9QJ4pnv6Upn9FTrHF4/s1600-h/gates3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCndGC5UGisOvu7mTH2RU2r9YK1spQ9h_uD5coSpkrXKK45eNjATMYVxGTWk9e28jOwpuYOuiDCx6VS5HryJbw7TAyik6ddVZwrtqEaj_gdVki7JvqVWjFSRRftk9QJ4pnv6Upn9FTrHF4/s400/gates3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416298267210681186" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">We went wheels down at <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Kabul</st1:place></st1:city> at 9am on Tuesday morning. I was expecting it to be much colder than it was as we walked off the plane onto the tarmac. The sky was grey with little visibility. Gates was already descending the steps by the time we got around the plane. Myself and Gates’ photographer snapped photos of the Secretary as he made his way to the motorcade that would take us to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camp_Eggers"><st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">Camp</st1:placetype> <st1:placename st="on">Eggers</st1:placename></st1:place></a>. We donned our flack jackets and Kevlar helmets before getting into vans that were retrofitted with heavy steel panels. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdAVomhjebNjZ0mH8gAz4_iH1Gv4Rut-xa6M77xbV3MEQ2aBqhgU129edpzlWDHv2GKhFO8SjMPF8A3zk55jcCvn6tqkVHXs5f050bBGoZDf0n7vrlIWeBfEI8mFYVasf59SrMH7jvIzM4/s1600-h/gates4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdAVomhjebNjZ0mH8gAz4_iH1Gv4Rut-xa6M77xbV3MEQ2aBqhgU129edpzlWDHv2GKhFO8SjMPF8A3zk55jcCvn6tqkVHXs5f050bBGoZDf0n7vrlIWeBfEI8mFYVasf59SrMH7jvIzM4/s400/gates4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416298029773853698" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">It took nearly twenty minutes to caravan off of the airport property, passing through several checkpoints before hitting the streets of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Kabul</st1:place></st1:city>. People on their cell phones were disappointed when their calls were cut short by jamming devices used by the military when on city streets to disrupt <a href="http://www.armytimes.com/xml/news/2007/02/apiraniniraq070211/070211iranied_story.JPG">IED attacks</a> which are often detonated by cell phone. </span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">We looked on through filthy one inch thick glass as people stopped to stare as we sped by the backed up traffic, piles of burning trash and crumbling shops with goat carcasses hanging in front. There was a lot to take in.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAk9nB8gBwvuswqTkZlOHOGe1bfG3_lABr1Dd0CqiNZh-tENJ6xSZ30g7Y7VjK2mGBFDd51H9i4LXnQHpPHaRhe_UY2N5f1rMbNaCCxhnPfM2hAE40WCafJmQnblg-v_Fuo2ImvWjRgBZ_/s1600-h/gates5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAk9nB8gBwvuswqTkZlOHOGe1bfG3_lABr1Dd0CqiNZh-tENJ6xSZ30g7Y7VjK2mGBFDd51H9i4LXnQHpPHaRhe_UY2N5f1rMbNaCCxhnPfM2hAE40WCafJmQnblg-v_Fuo2ImvWjRgBZ_/s400/gates5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416297816501999490" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">After a bumpy ride and a quick stop at the base where we would be staying, we were back on the road and headed to the Presidential Palace for a meeting with Afghan president Hamid Karzai. After going through security we were escorted to a room where a press conference would be held. The room was already filled with local media and photographers from all the wire services, including a local Getty freelancer. Some 30 video cameras lined the riser at the back of the room. Who knew that Kabul had so many TV stations. The presser was dull and we were restricted from moving around the room which made it difficult to get anything interesting. I could feel the fatigue setting in already as I jostled with the other photographers. It was only 11:30 and I was starting to fade.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGSFhR7rentVzwPZyxpE9Nmj_QDe8XOmPiWyefBsRXcNhGHvQRofTRbZHoitvgV8h1HkiM1NTFEGCX0_HnADJwdrnTzL3ezs7n_mbTexUXdu9-mwm3ZkYuqthfPAKFw6Cy3htqWmUMiS-D/s1600-h/gates6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGSFhR7rentVzwPZyxpE9Nmj_QDe8XOmPiWyefBsRXcNhGHvQRofTRbZHoitvgV8h1HkiM1NTFEGCX0_HnADJwdrnTzL3ezs7n_mbTexUXdu9-mwm3ZkYuqthfPAKFw6Cy3htqWmUMiS-D/s400/gates6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416297354813438610" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">We were scheduled to fly to our next event aboard 4 helicopters. The trip was canceled due to low visibility so we just went back to <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">Camp</st1:placetype> <st1:placename st="on">Eggers</st1:placename></st1:place>. Back at camp we waited to hear from the Secretary’s staff about a possible late afternoon movement that never came to fruition. The rest of the day was ours. I filed my pictures, browsed the PX and got comfortable in our basement room of what appear to be kid’s bunk beds. My head hit the pillow at 5:30 and I was out. I woke up a few hours later and went right back to bed. I tossed and turned a little bit as the room filled with the loud snores of 11 men which often resembled the low rumble of a fog horn accompanied by a gear grinding Yugo with no muffler. Despite the noise, I ended up sleeping almost 12 hours. My body needed it. </span></div></div></div></div></div>Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-66603479048972675432009-10-30T18:25:00.000-07:002009-10-30T18:54:15.883-07:00Oil And Water<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398574274697709730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdCVYjaN_eU-D8VsmkHTmykSkHgPw4aDVRKGV8VPqSk_ha1xCDfJn8s3c8XyVg6_2TZ2MjJm2vyUt5rCYje2B5r-UfsAJde65wz1WYsr4VNBgJDM9w5N8XJw7Xq4SLksDPy3UqgQEleUj9/s400/oil6.jpg" border="0" />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 <a href="http://sfist.com/attachments/SFist_Brock/newsoms%20hair.jpg">Gavin Newsom’s hair product </a>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. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398575948377630322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0h3Lup8oGNucYRmTeMUvwqYXvf894z8_lVAubjVxN-F4mKcOVSk_J58AsD9s-ccpSsCGyqsrnRFjLBEM9mXo1n0pA3KDaQDT8ietUz8zIYpATi9iUAgoY7BdsPmjTn4upvABYYDGTsV6/s400/oil7.jpg" border="0" /><br />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 <a href="http://www.ibrrc.org/images/Cosco_Busan/Cosco_Busan_scrape.jpg">Cosco Busan </a>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<a href="http://www.treehugger.com/alcatraz%20surrounded%20by%20oil%20slicks.jpg"> last spill</a>. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398572925574138050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6p_X7taWx_BDBhJijsK-S-JiUFuzwhFCkI0BRm1p4yIjlWYKhFzhHvzqgjDenMtzUWq5qAo05qY_fi6LFVqJnF1AmtGxtwl5SAwgFz-DlIth15nWt21tYeGIjyS1OGeu54od74ifLtDMT/s400/oil2.jpg" border="0" />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?<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398573154812517474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpqOUo5Nbuqni-wXqzSIioYLqKY2M5OwpkA188gqG8tMh-9Fmojw3U_5y60LAcLgBVeISHMzyokE3SCRZ_37c94c95eBmYqSvmExSswNbnNImnMFHT8ezqWzD1kC0bMhLkJoSCaM2s88qq/s400/oil4.jpg" border="0" />The company that I charter with uses <a href="http://www.sacusa.com/gallery/CBi158_1.jpg">Schweizer 300CBi </a>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. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398573058890542882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwOFcbcDachhkhaV21YXHh0AQ6oqNiGhmS0j9hVi43923TtY-VdO_vEOZjS1y0MQzb0ufz8anchHkewManFIF9AaPa5E3M1MCX5EWb9tWASGjonL2YAmSw66dcCPXfOlV4LBnrl8QIbVu/s400/oil3.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398572788725171186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3qXpWH82pv5Sx0dYjCLAMWzy6jaQlJkUzyz80gjrKO8Vku6Oopfamd6PtQfq0WNfjJHkUi4ea7tAyJL7piLZ7eKKkV4GsdaJ2L2S28WcyhLNdv24mQovqxHMG1Vd4JOVZxemD0MhyppE/s400/oil1.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398573428596348802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXW8H63jjBZnesC3He2ZwgBwCf2Qt34Vct3-KKOedmRqaqFDX0XsPBbwHRZ-NFmWnPAYesPogtnHoiCl3N7cYhBEEzgpiec_QKzPVhk2NG26D4iu4FCT44EQJi_wvCVLiDERcm-rJZa_j/s400/oil5.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-54147102663032330612009-10-29T13:31:00.001-07:002009-10-29T17:27:32.585-07:00Clogged Artery<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDs1QCuUGL4occOJ-9td2u8Kmu24EQjT13o5Y37rImhBuW5zbRzDfntPa9FgQohEszJgfTBB4AMrWFEb3Evjj_PzS2AEYIUBo8h_G5sJ37V12T_sSQvI0_QqbrGnYwhYLXH7anpFBiGVQ/s1600-h/bridge1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398181771096490034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 255px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDs1QCuUGL4occOJ-9td2u8Kmu24EQjT13o5Y37rImhBuW5zbRzDfntPa9FgQohEszJgfTBB4AMrWFEb3Evjj_PzS2AEYIUBo8h_G5sJ37V12T_sSQvI0_QqbrGnYwhYLXH7anpFBiGVQ/s400/bridge1.jpg" border="0" /></a>It was just a few weeks ago when I heard a structural engineer talking about how strong the new eastern span of the San Francisco Bay Bridge will be once it is finished in 2013. He was also quick to point out that if there were a sizeable earthquake before the new span was finished that the existing structure would be vulnerable to failure. Forget the earthquake, wind is what they say caused a 5,000 pound beam and steel cables to fall onto the upper deck of the bridge during rush hour.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398181848076169970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZhAWZRu2pMwxNey1qaMgowmIL6mlGqj7eJezC3hc-BrFlsYx-5umGnI6jGRz9hn0ePjimmFHj1nIZZZo8QXDIx1xSf5Znx6-3_XJITdmsq5s7nGFphvkSkxfkjLSU0MigubvsOMazx0p/s400/bridge2.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398181920409984578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CPXi9PrwHR-Zoup-CXHDAedGKM_37pEYRp72g4YaOqRbmBkiYXeJGBTp_ScBFXEAxUXRNEiBBEXjVUeGK4vmuPF9KhE71b1y5fHODASGlOIH3SY-SJZwRkNpPQ0tAAphUL7glXiEqfPB/s400/bridge3.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div>When I arrived to the bridge, the CHP had every road leading to the bridge blocked with cones. I tried unsuccessfully to get over to the toll plaza to make a photo of the empty toll booths. After meeting with the public information staff at the Caltrans office and waiting about 2 hours, me and two other photographers were escorted out to the toll plaza.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398182070111690450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVSjQ8xJmRLqW1k0vxY24dKKoOH7EB9MFJRqL8NqyPqbdGGPHCsEt94Aovv7XIm7CTMRjfzap_nv8eqbEadoc7Z5P0WbFb5efenjM1YUWMThqk4VqTzwD1c4GBZe52p4sNSEx-S5fvcfDD/s400/bridge5.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398181995745360050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_eGw9iMeucFAegagBlppMshYkBM414ReBOkqb5Eix4VVh94JdU3SSHHmOKpc_qC297LsYhIkul3IxaMlPD9MD9CqUstoZQr2DMsDWxB2Dnv50SZn5waRSO1-71zrZNKl0D5a4A_dtSMO/s400/bridge4.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398181693073408802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 247px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYvvcuhXDfKtdU9wwRupX8wKtm-PJMue40S19QZejW64vFc8WsL2veDILSoJsV1aXl1WE2aJczgBt4EIGp7mQxTyqYJaGGVqykmNlr8vJmIAWt7-c5cfOq72gv7keyMVgDUILiuRcb-O7p/s400/BRIDGE_Justin0348_li.jpg" border="0" />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. </div></div></div></div></div></div>Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-73345769667704199612009-10-23T15:18:00.000-07:002009-10-23T15:43:41.110-07:00Weight Loss<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkVg7CHCsF0wcTtEGZ1VG3dx5nJbwPiZzNwb6sMv_TCEFbS28LUsxUytkJV-5PlqViMzyS4iTWpP_mZGOJcp2vvow6tYhQMM_jQ4EVZn8MwyNgHOkujBjhkLiLENSvCyXSbip2N7g2R46/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395927455573046194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPkVg7CHCsF0wcTtEGZ1VG3dx5nJbwPiZzNwb6sMv_TCEFbS28LUsxUytkJV-5PlqViMzyS4iTWpP_mZGOJcp2vvow6tYhQMM_jQ4EVZn8MwyNgHOkujBjhkLiLENSvCyXSbip2N7g2R46/s400/1.jpg" border="0" /></a>Earlier this year I decided that I was going to drop some weight. I started a regimented workout program and closely monitored my food intake. I was serious about the whole thing and for my efforts I lost about 15 pounds over the course of about 3 months. I was pretty satisfied with that accomplishment and as a reward I started to ease back on the working out and strict diet. I started to get busy with work and things around the house and before long I had returned to my old bad habits. I know, excuses. The last time I checked, I had gained almost all that weight back. My most recent assignment inspired me to get back into eating better and doing more exercise. <div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div>I spent the better part of this week in Reedley, California working on a story that I am doing about obesity. I visited the Wellspring Academy, a weight loss camp for high school and college level students. After close to three months of coordination with the Wellspring staff, I was given the opportunity to follow around one of their students going through their program. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395927536902809826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 272px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFS3YD9EPWWxHLri8vX-3auM21U-PS0AATwecosQDcRugclKrOgWiKDvVTmdz1vWe9abfCsfY3w3Mrw_T5qHzDvZlDsqw7Pb_lYRw6kNisI7DIJJ-roYwveaQk0QhaHLnofKOVIcxcCQ6h/s400/2.jpg" border="0" />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. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395927988781592114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinX1913aY5PNl2nBQ_UNGLOjjdHy7hKCO1ef1yBQif49LINZ60tQp0zxxeXO-xnsn6-Gf_hYXM4WHQaI2j4AJSiv1_HKN4QUBvhyyQFRzuRHnnCtHAVRgFRibz6M6ImsjcBfbiO2Uy2w4H/s400/3.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395928055185324706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJhmQUfpL3IhyLgwa8qjJ5caBQTfWxaTLSNYYZ-D4LOUywiqmZpI1QrDk-gdhtrHGVqYlX9UvsGlFEiONSJxIX2xuWSAuaPsasT-6YTsVCtzAxWbDowB9NHMOx6DESVanRK4oAGzuEVTB0/s400/4.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395928293635187490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEuayYb_bOMXn4opAuytZFyb9ZOU78ERlm-1AHTIWhA4LMNY4U2vn-A6b-n-HSbRcqaZ2xZNae6J_e3syxibek1UplYU9_mX5dP4QkMYykFAIgkSKsj8l6MngaPJO7jXAafoE32-BElhyh/s400/7.jpg" border="0" />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. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395928142871505826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAzPQl4CdHjerW2nylbrxBBA26FkLqMPY_NWy8oxQRlLl-1HCD1EdML4n8h5kvt5uHlCrHA4yu94zfC87tskVw-RCP7NOHuDk8wvXYNTz5IYz7HInA-6QqidLj8OdZr32CTO2XP9YVe_s/s400/5.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395928217462878194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7zGRLcIEE1K1BqmNZQ9mCzEjMk0IF_dC9y2onEa-ltQ_X1SjJ-C7XXvpFrP5n7rLdcYFeREzn76AP7FsHBEviQuX23TfggcZ_cJwzCSichO1ajWccRS5wZxZMWYbUY5fgUmtITtOMF6Na/s400/6.jpg" border="0" />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. </div></div></div></div></div></div>Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-43180012709653542532009-08-05T16:55:00.000-07:002009-08-05T19:14:53.558-07:00Retiring #24<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhAV1WT8f3rOoqJ15pqu6MJlOxLNhQueEoPciaSgZdBRTBniAFPUu1guAIgh9bFv3VnvYL_fczMBRUpIhWyccKnW3tbmYnSv3WhZOqQTSZrwOzrF26oKyeKzaiUed9lmCJ1XwlYa2E9Hoi/s1600-h/rickey3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366643344055081794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhAV1WT8f3rOoqJ15pqu6MJlOxLNhQueEoPciaSgZdBRTBniAFPUu1guAIgh9bFv3VnvYL_fczMBRUpIhWyccKnW3tbmYnSv3WhZOqQTSZrwOzrF26oKyeKzaiUed9lmCJ1XwlYa2E9Hoi/s400/rickey3.jpg" border="0" /></a>When I first moved to the Bay Area in 1982, me and my family (long time LA Dodger fans) used to go to Oakland A’s games and sit in the cheap outfield bleacher seats. Rickey Henderson was one of the big marquee players at the time and he always made the game fun. That year Rickey Henderson stole 130 bases. He was amazing to watch with his wide stance, tickling the grass before taking off to claim another base. I even had a poster of Rickey in my room, a Mizuno ad that featured a pair of cleats hanging on his shoulder with glowing cleats. I was a fan. Who wasn’t?<br /><br />A few weeks ago, Rickey was inducted into the hall of fame. The all time stolen base leader had reached the pinnacle of his baseball career, legitimizing his claim that he is “the greatest of all time.” The following week Rickey would have his #24 retired by the Oakland Athletics.<br /><br />It’s been a while since I have shot anything sports related. Not that the retiring of a number is actually a sporting event. I was looking forward to using my season credential for the first time. I got to the stadium about an hour and a half prior to the late afternoon ceremony. The last time I had been at an A’s game the place was empty. Tonight was different. When I arrived the parking lot was buzzing, people were already in line to get in and receive their free Rickey Henderson jersey. I believe it was a near sell out crowd.<br /><br />The event was going to be pretty cool and sounded like it was going to have several nice photo ops. Me and 4 other photographers (Doug Duran, Bay Area Newspaper Group, Bob Galbraith, Reuters, Ben Margot, AP and Fred Larson, San Francisco Chronicle) along with a Comcast TV crew and the A’s team photographer Michael “Z” Zagaris were going to be positioned on the field next to second base. After a handful of Rickey’s former teammates came out Rickey was supposed to walk down a long red carpet from center field to second base where he would lift a golden base above his head. We all discussed how cool the shot was going to be and all agreed to play nice and hold our position, just let the magic happen in front of us.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366643479023383010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKohswA1VU6sfbRBnjKgiBaTiUjfJd5EKCxqvdH9vy-lipOPmZUbAyk-uMQhIlyrxTM1o4iUEAb_Qme9g70-R1LWcNhlMm6phEAAywNOHAmbg0DDYr95lhZSBah4QAmj8arcL5dqm509p/s400/rickey1.jpg" border="0" /><em><span style="font-size:85%;"> Me, Doug Duran and Ben Margot laying on the field - Photo By Fred Larson</span></em><br /></div>The rest of the media was kept off the field back behind home plate. We didn’t want to block anyone so we all decided to lay down on the grass. We looked like five guys paying tribute to the great head first base stealer as we lay on our bellies on grass that felt like a slightly damp carpet. This grass was perfect.<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366643807857015586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-0bzrzFPBIsuKOslMCynTrMzULwmvf6OhjTOMG8bfJpFmW6ph0EUYbDjRAOJ2mqT8rUXG_8_awp4oGgqjHKOG0LhEMWhpJysDto4v09IHPF0hFivCyRFJnMx7eAo2G3QuTgk-2ccVoL-/s400/rickey4.jpg" border="0" /><br />As Rickey made his way down the long red carpet, the TV cameraman stayed glued to his side making it difficult to get a clean shot. No big deal, I’m really holding out for that nice clean wide shot of him holding up that golden base. Well, I think I would know by now, if you over think a shot, it probably won’t happen. Today was another one of those days. <em> </em></p><p>Prior to Rickey arriving at the golden base the light was perfect. Just as he reached down to pick up the base, not only was the cameraman directly between me and Rickey, but a rogue cloud had temporarily blocked the sun leaving Rickey in shade and the background still illuminated. The picture imploded real fast. The cameraman continued to stand in front of Rickey and even circled around him leaving very little opportunity to have a nice clean image. Oh well, they said we had a few more opportunities during the ceremony. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366643737348279218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix5TfkARcGKni9XkF-YiJiYqjOvsih0f9kH7ASzpnxMsQEef7O8z9NPhrMYOUk4K_EJ4N6HqBNEI49m0S0mPAi1fuD5VWYBcqEx4AkNCCfdOY_ta1RvPCFsn0mfCjejrlyl5q2lstgGqGD/s400/rickey2.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366643864831236898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPDaqENjKjAjHM6oBhEKN7HY52bDq0HDt_tEogCQM2JOxHH2BktMEchnMY5AvMcgk1z_fM7Js9f15cQWCCnKM-QBoHsXOyqaEMdRV781-JQLaMfh78S298gAf9seMY0imZariBHmFGDf9/s400/rickey5.jpg" border="0" />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. </p>Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-56232776806410422062009-03-28T11:32:00.001-07:002009-03-28T11:39:16.303-07:00Four Funerals, No Wedding<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFZkHxr2o6EDswpJgJj4IjfY2c_vCH9K0UEfc_WSvtPhqqda4yhsERx_JzxjdjZL1nR4NkE1_bKvbduKdnnEecr24JMG0GX8r0gmY4mNCmFKCuDukF8YHOCD06KQ1aRj5RingbvR537DN/s1600-h/cop7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318309114192840642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFZkHxr2o6EDswpJgJj4IjfY2c_vCH9K0UEfc_WSvtPhqqda4yhsERx_JzxjdjZL1nR4NkE1_bKvbduKdnnEecr24JMG0GX8r0gmY4mNCmFKCuDukF8YHOCD06KQ1aRj5RingbvR537DN/s400/cop7.jpg" border="0" /></a>It wasn’t the place to be if you had a warrant out for your arrest. Thousands of cops from all over North America were in Oakland to attend the funeral service for four slain Oakland police officers. I saw cops from Boston, Minneapolis, Nevada and even the Canadian Mounties. It was a remarkable turnout for the four killed officers.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318308857618174050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh02U_QJD-5InvRKNCdXKaqkFaXG2L-rPOR5urIkb3Ygxn4mlQTkvKWqyBmT8o9e29aEvUJgj04wA3ZYs9F-74q6ssmbbuAtLhgKQ0N7FEAykg_hLsQnTwFRxr8hmp1l8kwmhdRBLk-uPxj/s400/cop3.jpg" border="0" />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. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318308800743562162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5T-ZgrHthoNbfGAm4zZnPWwp130Z48G912CEowRYNkbiuyID9krwjMupX40sAivAAXd3AOEBXk5jl5whwuXoeNR31vFmfbtDo5gCNlIRIigmjP6pG-t5T18S9euUgl9krCN7z6XjYfko5/s400/cop2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318308747911268418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAK2ajmBp36TBQXZas6Z18Ds4sY8zXFNvAJ2RkGm5eM2XOjcjCWqPJACy3Jc6dq1flaIQV22OnVW1vntREqbWhiYrk6_ULnVIXxt1TigvjqvIy5LpVtDmIezjyUamPPS7SwoytBi_6Wlsj/s400/cop1.jpg" border="0" /><br />Fifteen minutes prior to the 11am start of the service, a long line of officers and general public were still waiting to get in. The line would soon have to be diverted to the neighboring McAfee coliseum since the arena had reached capacity. Thousands would watch the service on the jumbotron in the stadium where the Oakland A’s play. In all, over 20,000 people had come out to pay their respects.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318308917934704418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 287px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYLvSEhmi8V4hMEiRIF3sqFZu1FoXWjRP83g4G_NGFk3cOoBK0RTMSnQTyy08M3zfCipSXaIwUcWphF45E_xqATTyv-VzZ9KZWuOuAP86HhqWKQQP1L9YotUNC1i6lLtSS9QhgacQmstq/s400/cop4.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318308973878245970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 284px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSj6bJHb0NuGijkljXfSeUbMj1y-YI8MGGU749aBIUqCvlZcroAKtNjS7gNcf8B6on06oq_2Z18JSeaI7FmWTjLj9cbTnM053ba6a6jlBUnZQe2hqpha-wld5-i0fZ49MWW3PZqZ4mUFk/s400/cop5.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318309061641206626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 277px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqqfEuEam-ksoVE9jATvjcJgHmjNMESGpCplU_YfzZ5BoNw5VG-9IOi3X4ccJNPZxPblAFBLMZQJEF3rxxq_Y8TbDT6qnqvulIgaVHJjMiec75D4WD4LmX2wCaorBxWLDEefd-WBs3ZlLh/s400/cop6.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318309173092614130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTSDZGP_FwBC_pX-iypmGEGEIDNnXwOJ3X-MpL_OU3f_LMgaTh3_X5zZdwzfG2qzr6Ez0qLYUlrg1ZVSa0R7xzlFEHtDZMzsp_lPbsntQ9X7EZyGqfr86Zm4l2bGZN-syEh5Bc0Hn54M4/s400/cop8.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318309228837028818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfofV02NJNHHF0p8mOCNdmtU-uOjrB4Mu-NTAy7VOyk9G-5abXd4VRAi7wo9PVedSRhtBq91cqnTg3VN3yhdaKqcVUz8zLDo8TBQFLqslMxggNUlN7EdrFYjKyV4dgFi6UDsyAQ0GgOc9/s400/cop9.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-3145462566735110862009-03-26T12:33:00.000-07:002009-03-26T12:56:47.501-07:00A Dark Day<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317587361803406962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWmWs69CY7CTkj4YwyLiai0vbakilAzyISPMA1yf0nf0nd7kY3cjaOwEqMwYd2um-SskTjXrTcx-Hzkd1vKugB845qsI-sQ3ryDbtBi5hyphenhyphenbd07a69l0tN-sXnS-pNfg9m6gSlVddfxA1A/s400/cop8.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317584709118943730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrzQ3n2EPruXzxIoiB-AAxPMEMadBV5xmL51iyuKXGzkfGvvvEGEl0g15BqeMLWaQKcFI5bs7CjG0ymLaBOnNc1QA8RAFj2ZQPXtu6HgBmlWvWrG2S-91mGai4v27YApEmasmxhJqpuGx/s400/cop2.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />The scene was complicated, as was the information. The Oakland Tribune had first reported that all four of the officers had died. Early in the evening, that story was corrected to only three with another clinging to life. I arrived at the scene of the crime just before the sun went down. Investigators were gathering evidence at the scene, marking shell casings with numbered cards. Some officers just stood there motionless, still processing what had just happened.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317584942480447042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HODWzs1pnNII1ZBa8jbx1yLJmJpJe8OvGhvj6SSZvdWHz9mhpDe8eX3B27QzVX1RbIK3BhXhyphenhyphenGk2LGlzHmNM97galVGPmlsECLNKt54w82p40QtvwkBOP8GiZnITEX0YEuxs5bsL1lix/s400/cop5.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317584645528836002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyEL0aW4QCKtJrwCTIYfErN9ghlzkHcrlbnQhEWE_FXUPXGSvxPsH4RIoabgAAZsJR8YtG9RttsxhEB62VMoKr3fsfudGuLgVZ-qC3tfVMemlDmTAw_ryDIriDeRowCQlmvdfrEPscKYK/s400/cop1.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317584776476253186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXW_MMBGjOauPkNEOWW5cFsmKL3UuF-HXk3RS4UiV7LhI71IleNbiQmMtof_jG-4fcVqXbM7Q6MN8CfI0F_8MG3OUMgToGvJgmaPSuL0dAkyhu98kVac1CFYZObYHFX-GyjOP9z1eMfsL/s400/cop3.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317584868577068674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7vnNRQhgcVaePtD_8EMiLD1Q2vMc9xKcuZPfgFbF6yh-jrCKYoTi5L4OlQ2rbkQGdh3bgNj4-x-i_F-jyM7JMJoKKfWgCGMInz0iRuTZrXv1oWQkA2NNglF46MLR2cYPPxLXbrad6CxwL/s400/cop4.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317585092218033442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VzztJXT_kmEEMkPAD8ztUzuzpAZ7p7pPA9C15UA2OslDDeYAP-Jjler-fZ5xV2pJqYWYckTHYNLPEt484v-tsXz6KPm5VODctaAbQIa4rPJ_E2HneaABMNT3_G2OyTj0PxeFOqEXq94G/s400/cop6.jpg" border="0" />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. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317585199838446146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkazJS2xM8w31S93j3JZQcWO-pzAlrzVVm4c2Hwo6ICNq6VJAxt80KPzmXlRHf0xh1KlcDkeOJNWVJxsASopQYkYuTgU4AoJcpg0Mr3aXYMJfAlIzMVkiMvrjNGyM_DQquLAjY9DQ-PKS/s400/cop7.jpg" border="0" />Knowing the history of this man, it was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-85782945855150190862009-03-11T18:05:00.000-07:002009-03-11T18:35:56.363-07:00Back To The City<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmuuhRGjSKJrRAA43PYSKPQdvD1p96e6YiVvqB3pxwfPR6zwHvz_R25Wo4Tqni9KW6lBBDe9eTkZ5cs8Vr7LQMLhRWuyaCnVw6oj3wliJUm_iyT0AY6Q04JYaV8enIQvAcNkExUZ4RSWE/s1600-h/tent3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312107189603876674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmuuhRGjSKJrRAA43PYSKPQdvD1p96e6YiVvqB3pxwfPR6zwHvz_R25Wo4Tqni9KW6lBBDe9eTkZ5cs8Vr7LQMLhRWuyaCnVw6oj3wliJUm_iyT0AY6Q04JYaV8enIQvAcNkExUZ4RSWE/s400/tent3.jpg" border="0" /></a>The first that I noticed when I arrived at the tent city was that there were a few more tents than last week. It has been just 4 days since my last visit. There was also a lot of media milling around. The photos from the tent city (and a segment on Oprah 2 weeks ago) sparked great interest late last week prompting national media outlets to do stories about the people living in the tent city. Over the weekend CNN and Today Show crews came out to do pieces. Crews from Sweden and Australia were out today with more scheduled to come out in the coming days.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312107427022796978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXklsBtmN85NdQ9gaB2wTjy4kMzLsjre4Pm5HBzqUd4m2rD8ooBHuuah2JT2Agm1F4w_5aNPm1EnwfMq6fOq8EC-wZTN-Ap-Y0FHa3dHk3TMm43FilFmJQGjpu2lZAxelPHUBMlUKnfRp/s400/tent6.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312107250416389810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lBaOyDi04zUDubov4ZbiYgr7nbr3JxbsQd_xnouyWwUv4Lca0pv72lIOrWQKFuxTQHtqGbYpMcohpUpPR16BqlBkLBwrPTMFXe5HlxIc120-A5d2eN8BHfpHKnmdxYpi5ScRfC1MRaW6/s400/tent4.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312107315008063586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2qAJm8Qvupg3dzlFN3PoEUVS7SAsV17SSAQzM_KMzCbnEcdFkqsNEt72op0ZSinY4noo6eF7EvMYlBZep7sMxhcVSJPDq9eg6dAfZA6KPgQV8vuH8LiF3P5aZlCMAXdHxyBDWq_jOo4P/s400/tent5.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312107128813987202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5zwmu1gRChyphenhyphenterFbLl2xAU0U1GTUX-0VvziEtvOOYWkVcZt6zKV6RPL_ItYYGq_457Z0bdFpHSozlVbXUPAMOUU7CRh0KoWRzbn0PedCAIa3Fk-lPJcaD4WEV1wMyogojvV7Vf2RMXPb/s400/tent2.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312106952638504130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv45hBjoJNdQZVkfrVLq_hycy_putfHircE9sayrxY-pHxqWPAepcR6xEY7e7DS_MHZP2FnS_bl7W6t3gs7TgJSjIXNJUnyoRFQ8JotebwqlsMfjkJ7i59IK2KeGPsTmSrms2Urza9xXj3/s400/tent1.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-58328255520129379022009-03-06T21:43:00.000-08:002009-03-06T22:26:38.230-08:00Just Trying To Survive<div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWF1CEFYX8mBxO3bJ75XvJgDCocyM5JpZ_wcC4P8Z4kA_pO64nVZRgkFnJmvjG-7QvcbbyRHMRgYbij1YS_I76Rg9lvJefO8WjlZ3-_-gH8JnAr2xFvD0imysR6DfSs5SIOXv-ooBrCf_/s1600-h/c.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310326032099814818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLWF1CEFYX8mBxO3bJ75XvJgDCocyM5JpZ_wcC4P8Z4kA_pO64nVZRgkFnJmvjG-7QvcbbyRHMRgYbij1YS_I76Rg9lvJefO8WjlZ3-_-gH8JnAr2xFvD0imysR6DfSs5SIOXv-ooBrCf_/s400/c.jpg" border="0" /></a>Dark clouds are looming over our heads as I walk along the levee with Jim Peth from Loaves and Fishes, a local homeless advocacy group. Jim is giving me a tour of a large tent city that is home to several hundred homeless people in Sacramento. As we walk along we have to sidestep muddy puddles left behind by recent rainfall. There are hundreds of tents covered with blue tarps are scattered across a green field sitting in the shadow of downtown Sacramento.<br /><br />I am spending a few days out at the tent city, or as the homeless like to call it, “the wasteland” Jim thought it would be a good idea to show me around the tent city before I went out there alone. Its not that it is particularly dangerous, but more that people are a little weary of a stranger. Jim introduced me to people that he knew and asked some to look out for me. He would often present me as “a friend of ours” which was nice, but I couldn’t help but feel like a character in Donnie Brasco. I was a made man.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310326419015044082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5je3QG0xYaj5hfspVU1tPjzRd0Tu0uGVZHwjjThFBTHXWoPlte2vL3Bwwv7efeAVnFN99M29H_nn-IhB0u6KFX7mI0I7m1KcDspG2ztN5xuRC_Av0DnifyyRYDnpNRGjnQTAevLHv1kd2/s400/h.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310325947593734210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNiRL-xyhSaTo4i2TivgE_0twYv7eZqDuY3arXJ3PGhFtTMF2eTuk2K2ybBt7MFDREAPZAS5eE0YFUC1Al0YYfHU2UlQDpw2cPFPkCiicz72QZQFnbEKtWY7cZWwrpbq2mKviTV-GuTYRl/s400/b.jpg" border="0" />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.”<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310326104284516818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhucYR1wU8w247uDTwCVgaOzdCjviKh4z3UFdm8VomosbmVg0Ov0jcwy-j9qngJi7ZMLhh5bdmiF-p9uVAGFjAo_DzXJ2UlXDLMbXnFdvCIQzroaVVqYSWmYxPN_MNwy3oM1GjrB4Md4qHj/s400/d.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310327396950921250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPM1Dz1y4Qbj5zO5XDxnXgeam1ENZpc-5uZfwQhg72j_b2rvInanAFvqHVm18kZfEZSOd4tZ3dskCDawzWuFudw74nanG-QWiBmzuy7KU78eesLbkVlSJlxog7qJY5iXSmo-cmG_DN74A/s400/i.jpg" border="0" />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.”<br /><br />I would end up spending most of time with Tammy and Keith. They warmed up rather quickly, which I was pretty surprised about. Keith and I joked around with each other, he even offered me one of his beers. I would have never thought that these two people would have opened up the way that they did. They were just nice people, down on their luck and having a hard time adjusting to being homeless for the first time in their life.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310326350403461970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF07IDz-YPTBeyZ2M63u1UGDo2niEn7wSxl1y5rmCgfgBu0JRiCbNvePW28hVV-3XmxoqOKzhyphenhyphenMuDJAqVlgkDg5r8GvJ06Da9dGxXLrOKMLPFLoHAegTpIzELBdzYyunSQdz6QpH4-TXSL/s400/g.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310326208067422978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-D6nwBs8u-U4q0Rb4SZu6-nENo0ouzoKvyTGlpBk2YRSQH0rSP1m24w5twpu4EW93dpYVRDpyYJg22xVwXVQ3UZ0DHXymv1vP2pdZEiBrKWwl0_DHdrfJuqoFme7of62gv7t3o3w6kHo/s400/e.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310325866846334754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipug0PXvwI0wdwPnrfcPlOJUnO6oKvd2IRaupTdz72UQ-lwqLjR32RVrYOkYCoAlKYwx_3fJr9_Do9zSgswufyhhYJBjbOqfCu3ZdxLUqoZZa_mcetVU0PBHNjtUmtoYB7A5XbMwW_SC1A/s400/a.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310326281766696514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLV7pPOi4EBi8Mb4Aqzy6EVMjhoyA0RSUebeesEeUa3UcOfvecj5ccfBcjqBtipFTUSNwKiFlca9Aoc_bmyw_Ce2sBeSi8Cu8GDH2iJgdJCcJNG_GdCvcy4nPCLvLY2N_4vB31QJyDe55S/s400/f.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />Visiting the camp and meeting its residents was a humbling experience for me. It never ceases to amaze me just how generous people can be that don’t have anything. It is unfortunate that so many people have to live like this and sadly, it seems as if this bad economy and foreclosure nightmare isn’t going to end anytime soon.<br /><br />Before I came to Sacramento, I looked through some photographs taken by Dorothea Lange during the Great Depression of the 1930s. The photos were of homeless people living in a shanty town. The scene was similar to what I saw at the tent city. There were rows of improvised shelters, people cooking over a campfire. The dateline of Ms. Lange’s photos was Sacramento, California. <div><div><br /><div>A couple links to galleries and stories featuring photos from the tent city:</div><br /><div><a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/worldnews/article-1159677/Pictured-The-credit-crunch-tent-city-returned-haunt-America.html">http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/worldnews/article-1159677/Pictured-The-credit-crunch-tent-city-returned-haunt-America.html</a></div><br /><div><a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29528182/displaymode/1107/s/2/">http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29528182/displaymode/1107/s/2/</a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-27630095212658009442009-03-03T20:57:00.000-08:002009-03-03T21:02:41.577-08:00Saint Obama<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3a_zhRd92z96XEGtI3tKTHPzmcwh0Hy_LftHD1gF4AiyEntL7n7EXfdcUONrU4Dt0EeUQPJtzf_1MVHynVNNl9vhAh2PCqWEkE7nKLIH5xRlZqtz2MB2i1MecB6MtjiMOw8XnhY33307N/s1600-h/Obama_Votive2_.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309193464110487298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3a_zhRd92z96XEGtI3tKTHPzmcwh0Hy_LftHD1gF4AiyEntL7n7EXfdcUONrU4Dt0EeUQPJtzf_1MVHynVNNl9vhAh2PCqWEkE7nKLIH5xRlZqtz2MB2i1MecB6MtjiMOw8XnhY33307N/s400/Obama_Votive2_.jpg" border="0" /></a>Minutes after I filed my pictures I got an instant message from Preston on the picture desk. “Did you buy one?” Preston was referring to the religious style votive candles with an image of Barack Obama’s face on the body of St. Martin de Porres. Shortly after, I started to get messages about people wanting me to buy them for them.<br /><br />The 10 inch candles have been flying off the shelves at a Noe Valley novelty shop and at the same time have angered local religious leaders. The folks at the St. Philip the Apostle Church see it as sacrilegious. Most people see it as just a funny candle.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309193364249280434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 272px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFm55ar8meBs3cGPDxg_hsuXymvH5pDI14e-bh9RreEgvfqqKSecqJUdrxUeQTHSKGDnKAnDyQPSw65RI4vnXRyoj5iixTTqdXRfGXGBKtQvhhiH9KhLr_yA-JVHq0dS6imz7wr6HW_S4T/s400/Obama_Votive_.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-50580548314659254532009-02-25T19:22:00.000-08:002009-02-25T19:34:36.256-08:00Scary Times<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PMXo4Q-BjiIS8KcSBkwxVAAOp0oNbrak2jYbXn9y2jkqctiZVYQ5uPxYKYjgFHLZiJ_k7OTlfgHmC6MJvdHYSsJoPvnfPC13plUNjbMiXttbKt41HuQ4R4z5-Q_AZUOVgAxpd7g5pW5H/s1600-h/85057562JS009_SF_Chronicle_.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306943944521135954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PMXo4Q-BjiIS8KcSBkwxVAAOp0oNbrak2jYbXn9y2jkqctiZVYQ5uPxYKYjgFHLZiJ_k7OTlfgHmC6MJvdHYSsJoPvnfPC13plUNjbMiXttbKt41HuQ4R4z5-Q_AZUOVgAxpd7g5pW5H/s400/85057562JS009_SF_Chronicle_.JPG" border="0" /></a>The news wasn’t really that much of a surprise. The Chronicle has been losing millions for quite some time now. What was a bit of a shock was to hear that the paper might actually disappear. Like almost every paper in the country, The Chronicle has reached a breaking point. It’s do or die time. Figure out how to survive or call it a day.<br /><br />It wasn’t that long ago that the paper was doing quite well. When I worked at the Chronicle in 2000, the Hearst Corporation was in the process of buying the Chronicle and unloading the Examiner. Back then, The Chronicle was turning such a good profit that Hearst basically gave the Examiner away to the Fang family with an added bonus of $66 million as a thank you gift. I guess $66 million paled in comparison to what they would be making with the acquisition of the Chron.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306943863653838882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinnU451fwJw2raEq-xNZXwk7pDR2aNXdmOJOPJLVQusq4xZHX-9bprl3jq1wY9xuXJpQhdhMJbn_gE2-qLG9Q5TE2JClE8TJnb8kmtGJRJ-_vrjP6cNgG0PfrCdaJ1ZJjlSn8cd6e5Lgjf/s400/85057562JS005_SF_Chronicle_.JPG" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306943802631542546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPwKvOePGWKgqkYF-BgRgRumIPw0X1HjPA7Lozfoo9tb4c5ZYq-j6_o3r3ZVHEsZ1VW1_A0oFRSnoQMO-eCQoJ28A-oqS4ic_UWNWe79F6Fz8HhWNt7HAMxCWAhGjF07I4uDfYcCEqUik/s400/77357274.jpg" border="0" />Then, along came Craigslist, killing ad revenue, and the internet with its free content and the downward slide began.<br /><br />I can’t imagine San Francisco, a city with a population of over 750,000, without a daily newspaper. Sadly, this could be a reality. It breaks my heart that people don’t see a value in what goes into a newspaper and how important newspapers are to our democracy. Without papers, who will be the watchdogs to make sure government serves in the best interest of the citizens? Who will uncover things like the BALCO steroids scandal? What will we start fires and wrap fish with?<br /><br />All kidding aside, I think there are a lot of people out there that don’t understand where this type of in depth reporting comes from. Well, if you don’t know, newspaper reporters come up with these stories. TV stations do some, but for the most part it is a recycled story from a newspaper. Same goes with radio. Listen to KCBS on any given day and a good percentage of their stories are right out of the morning paper.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306944019746641858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPeIW5wiyEx0NRgXy3EiuXPl4Dpuf6kKS-OUvaMUNicVUF0jaikWDfGNG6aXKyYM3CrZFnq0lHv94KqeUuRgi-m8-fZ401k1InJqIQjBlPT6o7zIsKoN7G9GV3j7iQUZifb7GN3uEVB8E2/s400/85059476.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />I hope the Chronicle can fight their way through this. People need their jobs and San Francisco needs a newspaper.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-12006203532565777242009-02-13T09:38:00.000-08:002009-02-13T17:34:28.383-08:00Lance Is Back<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTl7FXp-oIP-dNVNNL5LDGtlQuHH06KDeTo9ieZPzb0N8arMtMj8MUKA87cnb4v2kCiEiBG9oyA5aevohmGJY_b6COgdEZzbPck6akV6YN8YRo2RrvizfyZlGLpgmdjW8rtaAIoOB1B8B/s1600-h/lance5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302343480791615474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisTl7FXp-oIP-dNVNNL5LDGtlQuHH06KDeTo9ieZPzb0N8arMtMj8MUKA87cnb4v2kCiEiBG9oyA5aevohmGJY_b6COgdEZzbPck6akV6YN8YRo2RrvizfyZlGLpgmdjW8rtaAIoOB1B8B/s400/lance5.jpg" border="0" /></a>I realized that my seat belt wasn’t on as Santa Rosa Press Democrat photographer Kent Porter merged onto highway 101 in Santa Rosa, burying the tachometer on his late 90’s Honda Civic. I’m riding shotgun and Arleen Ng is crammed in the backseat sharing her space with a big storage box. We’re trying to get ahead of Lance Armstrong and his bicycle racing team as they train on the roads of western Sonoma County.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302343042709127186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuV8xoXVcgw924TgbFU8Gy4EaaaNJV2MPnuFH7sKHRmgH2CiNP03tbA0EClEPuGglgNoC9zgC42diik9fnLXFRLBV_TD_kv7WveOhDYIxMNp2tZ4gS4WdymbzRdicYwL9BaRy4JKOxY7J/s400/lance1.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div>I know very little about bicycle racing other than Lance has won the Tour de France many times and that Floyd Landis dude losing his title to alleged drug use. Other than that, I have no idea who most of these guys are. Thankfully, Lance is wearing a different color outfit than the rest of the team. It would be impossible to pick him out of the pack otherwise. The whole team has the same bikes, the same outfits and the same general physique. Are these guys really human?<br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302343396826873970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Bms-5bbpKKYqqlEtrLrYxy6xNQQuUsEgaOQfZHq7Qx3xj9T2qrfxUdabL4p6qvOhF7yQWnktunTe27m2pvn7VOe1DQHN9Uksp7JSJV2q3ccDo70ti7cbJG5lAgwRQGKtas1ZCQCArQIn/s400/lance4.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />The trivia wasn’t limited to things he had covered either. We learned all sorts of things about the area and the news stories that the small towns produce. The most gruesome was the one about the two kids who broke into a house near Jenner and shot an elderly couple 60 times for no apparent reason.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After driving for over an hour, we finally found a spot to shoot the riders coming up a hill. We found a hill to stand on and waited for the riders to come. We waited about 20 minutes or so before they arrived. At this point they were probably 50 miles into the ride. None of them were winded and they carried on casual conversation as they pedaled up the hill. Within seconds, they were gone. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302343283759654434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyGcpIpwLuKsTOahNzDUOXDzFrCK9WPASCTC_U8j0hNa74XSOvQcS5D_iqnxhM2R5kfwUw0ANWOSJiHHG7YnpupKx-lucui7yvUGErjInxiiD1elBrWzfGdTYpso7rZp8IxV6we1I8Rz0/s400/lance3.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />We made it to the coast and were able to find another vantage point to catch the riders one more time before heading back to Santa Rosa. They again passed us by on an uphill, none of them breaking a sweat. I don’t know how those guys do it. I was just riding in the car all day and I was tired.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302343123892886850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhwL9ctvYZ-xrv1XdCdQwg_WOS_n7DumpEEDOPAinPcMphmAbKLBKU3NuSJ1JQDBe9yQYhzeFsv1jO6p5-dY6UhiXZHCDqBD5BCN_y6WAjbkAL0ExH0QmhabUNiR0tDJCgejlfY36Hk5-7/s400/lance2.jpg" border="0" />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. </div></div></div></div>Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-55868055973797388992009-02-03T18:51:00.000-08:002009-02-03T19:41:06.095-08:00A Free Lunch<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298771969777777186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfA6-_oPCswxM8EDxqH9UsyAJ3cJg3Tb9l7z2P_9Y-58s-0lCm_ZCObHM1_sU0wAlYx1L5FGKJznZmRjVkZ4jYjP5qk0vp_UI2mcZm2bAAWuE2KEgc5qVGDYSMcASOm25U77-Vg4tSVnv/s400/denny1.jpg" border="0" />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 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ur0LENvY5TE">Super Bowl ad</a> (which is funny as hell - Nanerpuss) to give anyone a <a href="http://cache.gawker.com/assets/resources/2008/04/dennys.jpeg">Grand Slam breakfast</a> for free today between 6am and 2pm at all of its stores in North America. Maybe they should have thought of this promotion during the World Series. Grand Slam? Football?<br /><br />It was insane how many people were lined up at the Denny’s in Emeryville, California. I got to the restaurant at about 10:30 and the line was wrapped around the side of the building. One guy told me that he had been waiting for about an hour. I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure that a free Grand Slam could compel me to forfeit an hour of my life.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298774362882940194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVq1NOCY94al7rLTPuziam_CaUF9nZPLEfcp06krcj2ixYYXZyuAMZn29_HwNFK5hfNqRX79oPGg62k48Ib_tfUACsV136mqApADB1c2kBDOUTC3vhZvS5ozVciLyttZPHLreQueEgGpx/s400/denny5.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298772319377605026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjfgbGqeAnNXJXcmolpEEVNNSilRC3lZ9OT5BSRFGQKwQZlYxFOoR-lEcsJAlwdbGU_uZPTxnooy8rmEIW57g0jbAKY3FlKSIK6-NFhKBwYVDggw4Odm25eLmnNysx6XU7trK-M_anV0L/s400/denny4.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298772174549932034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwBpQtmj7Ee-uFovzVg8tEnqu2UoqKHUFO0favLiOGJVRvrTsxd_UaRSdN9z-lBJhbpDDuT4JlXTz2FTXkFh1LLPrqTwFQ05sJae2W_bCmxfo7XMA-bdwaNnMqcgzbioCLI7BPGuPyZBV/s400/denny2.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298772250920169298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio7kUicsChJMa0fVrGJxJ4xg7XxMmiEwHrQ3tDTPM2YxSjxkZKINzt3pNmi2f-DDHp6uQ_c_QvRYhBeVoyqmMLiyz8HrM42QjOkcdqSoOVE2dx2lxc9-6xkZ3ODkR8Vc9v7fQOCG9lCUgn/s400/denny3.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298774429083535218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2vPGa5bTOp-Ncgrtuap7mNVRcqDvIQC2GvKDl0rSXYLCDsGQZWHlBj1Q5ueTs4ikgpMl1GvRLvjWOwkvLgvBBeBsvy88m7fiAwBMnJez87rlHf-8SoYHO8n1SBLiRqrguujz-t4qbdRD/s400/denny6.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-24041553046419740882009-01-23T18:19:00.001-08:002009-01-24T14:05:45.992-08:0044<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sRTsNE0DabxtFs8sUbPCoxfyqu-7OAIJQcyonR_mViGhuUc7eXn7XvWFu9fLp9rrA1Hq6aOpGXuj_Egd6dBrMHXj6Ccai8a64s0rxGw8TW-d0aSiQX4vd8n0iwtpQQf_Hxv4jRA0GY-k/s1600-h/swear2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294682253416573778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sRTsNE0DabxtFs8sUbPCoxfyqu-7OAIJQcyonR_mViGhuUc7eXn7XvWFu9fLp9rrA1Hq6aOpGXuj_Egd6dBrMHXj6Ccai8a64s0rxGw8TW-d0aSiQX4vd8n0iwtpQQf_Hxv4jRA0GY-k/s400/swear2.jpg" border="0" /></a>It was hard to pull myself out of bed before 5am on Inauguration Day. My body felt battered. I have been walking all over DC since with a heavy bag of equipment since starting work on Saturday. Today will be a long one, at least 18 hours when all said and done.<br /><br />I am staying at a friend’s house on Capitol Hill so I could avoid the massive crowds on the Metro. Had I stayed at the hotel in Alexandria, I would have had to be up and out the door by 3:30 to get on the first train at 4am. Every minute of sleep will help me get through this day.<br /><br />After a mile walk, I arrived at the Capitol press check-in. There was supposed to be a point of entry that was open from 4-6am before being moved to another location. Of course, the cops claimed that didn't exist (even though it did) and the press would instead have to go through the Rayburn Building to be screened. So, me and a handful of other press folks went through there. When we tried to leave the building to go to the Capitol we were told that we could not go there. In the end, we all had to be re-screened to leave the building so we could go wait in another line to be screened again. I didn’t step foot on the Capitol grounds until after 7am.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294682374379489266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0hJf4YftwP80k4lImNwFhTDz-oO_WqRuBJWJ2-yNU8LBSUXceJ47nJZ3fQF1xBLP54HRs4flKOpNyVRL4yFfJ06SHHoskm8yLwP1KLhFtHPd6mb9P4TiEEsMkh-a40ogWPtWRoCUaP_0/s400/swear1.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />We had 8 shooters for the swearing in. My position would look at Obama’s back as he was sworn in. In the end, this was fine since there was somewhat of a controversy about Justice Roberts’ flub when reciting the oath of office to Obama. Even some of the less desirable positions can often yield important and interesting photos. Every component of the team comes together for a solid final report.<br /><br />The crowd started to get excited when the Presidential motorcade made its way down Pennsylvania Avenue to bring the incoming and outgoing presidents and VPs to the ceremony. I couldn’t wait to get this show on the road, it wasn’t getting any warmer. I’m so happy it wasn’t raining. That would have been bad.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294682479490493810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86FiGtZIWZCgZdaEYtkWqackHUgtu9tWlP3_F4vviyB2i3eXMmIKvJZhypPb6iovignmDOFz5n3sc4GB3mB1JZayh7l03XXb8D5YkucSHyL39unJpLrz9AIQBe_sO4PjXFVfYsqCnYDAD/s400/swear3.jpg" border="0" />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. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294682592357749538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhrdZPrOdu9p8S6oJz65gXWwL5Ow9_7mxLlEynNTgBAp7AL0_iCr5DXyZhgHlugSACTxYdMXBEMLfqtmcycUZAfXtyiA6O1q9HzDTOXom2RKQs83LjF697XHIdJ8GV2vdN06TwT2imbzn/s400/swear4.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294682964049441458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGXBzRhA5DvW24zlCSLvZ69hyphenhyphenmvf7HlTMX8cImJFWCwvv0OSlHC09Zu6Tmqflrj4Hfvj1QWsSYJQq6uuSLqNdKDpH6JPQOPrdpoVBIJU9XtFwiGzBcvIObctTlThossRATmMxEJc_nw4Yb/s400/swear11.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294682734898930642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT5YBlEmlOfrZwTJqsrO2eT_Vcfeee8GO3YbT-sQ0Dvg_9B94T1NFoIHNhlOMrfOhB1Wa74mxdceWAj2Y9AmOoGpQelz-CEVWTBzLitdRHlNu-kKgYO4fpyO9NRY6K2Cl9weLSHG1Degt4/s400/swear6.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294682832492455730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-ZFIbPHwsgbOtaWHla-oPTOueLbXWwcRpFXETg288hzSNJrmZXFxrqAWgQdNIeu5pQZPMbwBE0Czl1YPNuu9vXogKNySPBBYKZFyf9bjt5CHdqahexK4qOmQCmJVUafRQlZ54wBQll2-/s400/swear7.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294683134869496898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 287px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHMbtpeaSwAxR8gOPCJ5yGuLbXaAeLyNfCkrpAli1zwOcak6zwn5ct4b37E0ePvV2m9m5UV8j9duhMAHYiYbr36dGvdI2V4hQB-EldOa3UR9XQJP9dFdk12Zqv4lRYzbPq3y3VGFEonKk/s400/swear10.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-4570908778773027942009-01-23T11:22:00.001-08:002009-01-23T16:43:41.144-08:00We Are One<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294577921074515522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3hQKQXydXPxZI8ygUTP9u_pZyUs0AycsAYJ-sjI2nx4w1Yy8IItib94zyz0l7Uxvu3LOq8IN1QX88XnM8kKpYZk6nTaNSs9m-kKXejtMHetr4i1xvGvR_uZU36xC4Cdet750oKvGVeDL/s400/mall8.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />As with any event where Obama will be in attendance, security is extremely high and you end up doing a ton of waiting around after you are screened by Secret Service.<br /><br />My day began a little after 7am when Mike Heiman, one of our field editors, picked me up at the Holiday Inn. After getting lost, despite using a GPS, and ending up somewhere in Maryland, we finally got to the Getty office and met up with my co-worker Mark Wilson Three of us would shoot the event and feed to the editor.<br /><br />We picked up long glass for the show and headed over to the Lincoln Memorial. We caught a cab and tried to maneuver through town which proved to be difficult since a good portion of the streets were shut down to traffic. We got relatively close to the venue but still had to walk close to a half of a mile.<br /><br />Surprisingly, the press security line was real short and we breezed through the checkpoint. It was now about 8:30am – the show starts at 2:30. Thankfully it isn’t too cold today, probably about 34 degrees. Time dragged on as we watched hundreds of thousands of people fill in along the reflecting pool and out to the Washington Monument. I kind of felt bad for the people who watched it on big screens from about a half mile away. It would have probably been better to watch on TV in a comfortable and warm hotel room.<br /><br />My shooting position was on a riser directly in front of the stage. It was a three level riser with HBO cameras and sound engineers. After much negotiating, five still photographers (AP, AFP, Reuters, Getty and the Presidential Inaugural Committee) were allowed to shoot from this riser through a small 3 foot by 3 foot window. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, there was a lighting technician that needed to see through that window as well. It was like putting together a puzzle to get us all positioned to shoot through that hole. It was tight, but it worked.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294577574817247778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-xH8Jd2sdXSmbS1OLyXi4vfXfYbiYkxl8MYwYACmMtNKxcRpCU6WL9lqDUJJxPDTC0VwT-c-NrtiRFXHa8z2a_Hr_3sIKFjGQUK6nAjFaUUduMKu9hfe2Neb8C_TYMc3qyYMuoyLaXZh/s400/mall7.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294576947443635554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 255px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FVvJjiSyF8CcWTVl8JltW-B8Uw0hunyEt3Jy0iCQblHrfMzcY-agMwmi0ookIyIg-gjgORg5Q25RTMBXe5-UMft-b9Kk74ys_vXPOLTRBqVNV-Cnf5m5pe7JeC8g804gU-0crAsmGyFa/s400/mall2.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294575974239543618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9otLqbH2NHp60m76bLs7JO5yc8Szjwh5lfC3e9blgg_QTcmN7zU-o71SXnoCjlEYSg5JBiaMrQdtpQ7dau9Jk1YF7e0AiJblxCR63Qok7pDHJN0PeyuOYMRD9lLp6umsrPEh6muqEV-lY/s400/mall1.jpg" border="0" />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. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294577293667517474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpsBx8Q8fE_M4K-dfMjyXNwYOk8pycV0gVD_EbnrnoJYsLY3-0ljnqABWqbM_X5iqJSDxJm72IHDW7CfkBeTJSEjFm3R_EUQiHKzoOEcFJD1S-rLuAwprC-vWZgorvsIDP8TxYKRUzMFI/s400/mall4.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294578039188054034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 294px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUGEaj_6JehBR1RkOIe1Z4UhFzadEI15FCmSssypOyDhPZpreeoyJZlW9BU5dWCGfFptwof2C12rgX2kOEnjka0ZX1WpX787ETzBAqfpEjLKiVADn115oBIqmWJJa0IKPfFsQuz4Jn3Zaw/s400/mall9.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294577065731318450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YkIwN1B5WoL-kL2ZEs7eJi_gNY35cqqAYvFFiS0Oe3oN0Q00PYLtaBvoXnOPEaKqLEjSyyIQuprKA-wwqHQMWBo6sprBGWe-xqZs9f88gk8bX4E9NYCJbUNVe4Qge7LC55BFvtPsge2X/s400/mall3.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294577413344232610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8UuiBd2FxSjQ9-NN6gN4yahQmfIZXwpgxsQW3HEdjzbcVIvqfneSZA6jYPyykMuVGGxuaaxhOMxSrxjbtW3ViTVatSVjNQkS6rD0OxpTB0TzkcLanlci8bsIeZcSJhmYyDfPr88EfRc3/s400/mall5.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-641849686105940472009-01-22T11:48:00.000-08:002009-01-22T11:52:55.677-08:00SFO - DCA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp15HnAQ_u47qP1vJLyw0sh3nInxUY2HzipGyXxpUL21OIyB5v9ilQpTDk7iYVqYrGP8A4qLoRRhiRQ83VNwp4382tNBUF3XSiww3sSuTOktNdxypt5L1VKXw3tHPsgerRaIhygzIfPUt4/s1600-h/84338147.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294207615849539282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp15HnAQ_u47qP1vJLyw0sh3nInxUY2HzipGyXxpUL21OIyB5v9ilQpTDk7iYVqYrGP8A4qLoRRhiRQ83VNwp4382tNBUF3XSiww3sSuTOktNdxypt5L1VKXw3tHPsgerRaIhygzIfPUt4/s400/84338147.jpg" border="0" /></a>It was like a slap in the face the second I walked out of the terminal at National Airport. The cab driver told me that it was eight degrees – felt colder than that. It’s quite the contrast to the unseasonably high temperatures that I left behind in San Francisco. I hope it warms up before Tuesday.<br /><br />After a quiet night and a late rise, I made my way to DC from my hotel in Alexandria. My boss booked us rooms in Virginia several months back as Washington hotels were becoming scarce and rates were skyrocketing. Even in Alexandria the rooms were fetching over $400 a night at the Holiday Inn that usually books for around $129. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294207717145268578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhXAR3ZWwhghsELW9mRbvvk-DMlHutC5b0wdED3V1fuStmcvL5HZ4ywyqU42-TPikQE1f-5xS7eVuS1fPflHo56JrHmtenXjhx9d8jPimUwVFA_-88waKOnfJK8jK90jPoMJCCwd4N5Gfn/s400/84338645.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294207863488155442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsd90AfVLGSFS0Gu7RlA3YcqhWVQXFx0tIHE2bD5NW3DwNYgbgLW5JuOuVkUEJgGbYp-2uiU_1aKkhfQoJiJPjZvM6nWacsjrAvBpbKDhyphenhyphen_bzDAI2lSzcw0MqD37O9jQFrjk2uR9B8KoW/s400/84339660.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294207789155832770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 276px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEg_4MYZsyRlxXgEO_0Cqhq4-29oIB-wm4sE9txeSdsFvMnIlPyiLy5MwqeJsceryVv5NmO_8seA5EsvIwR7SKxmrTKF_mWT24RRL-zuDA-QnZiLN8bQIkLyEIaMoHKd_Fxu2hqKtIjgB/s400/84339631.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294207974009315330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMZwC1zIozrfpS1pTd2751bCwmH9MvMAmH-LyXS8SUbR8N13XTOw5HD_0epYSFSR-qpfG63nUyue452A3GxyN_7qbQdPFdHPXqA3k-4CugQr7uMEUl2-yct9ReHV6YpnHAIJpckmXhgSgb/s400/84341427.jpg" border="0" />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.<br />I wandered around the ball for close to 2 hours as a few dozen people filed in. It was a weird setup for a ball. They had a mini flea market in the lobby where you could buy custom made suits and art of Barack Obama. In the ballroom a wedding type band played jazz tunes and a crowd of elderly folks grazed on buffet food. It was dead. It was like a 50th wedding anniversary party at a senior citizen home in central Florida, but not as cool. After 2 hours I left and headed to Old Ebbits Grill for dinner with friends.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-54629273772753552692009-01-08T11:45:00.000-08:002009-01-08T18:05:22.318-08:00Funeral For A Police Shooting Victim<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxRnnrGue5TO8Ea2LABK67-cbcuF6fu6Oviu8DJuIO2qvDmrq-ZJdFDwlGWmxdInMAaOCMd-Qv-wKGyZDsV3sZ3FGGHIIOgGpYSLdXH-3t9dwWctlnYeRWEDjktRi1p85oWnJSkVCLN-n/s1600-h/cop6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289107827071995618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 279px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSxRnnrGue5TO8Ea2LABK67-cbcuF6fu6Oviu8DJuIO2qvDmrq-ZJdFDwlGWmxdInMAaOCMd-Qv-wKGyZDsV3sZ3FGGHIIOgGpYSLdXH-3t9dwWctlnYeRWEDjktRi1p85oWnJSkVCLN-n/s400/cop6.jpg" border="0" /></a>Most people don’t go to funerals of people that they don’t know. I think I have been to about 3 or 4 funerals in my life that was someone that I knew, like a family member or a friend. For work, I have been to dozens for people that I have never met.<br /><br />There is no question about it, covering a funeral is not fun. For the most part, media is kept at a distance, and that is fine. But there are times when families allow us to be inside during the service. Today was one of those days.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289107447392453250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvPywi8n7LxiJZ3Gkk_djPebgYQ-RrbBwl5YE1VBe7G_8CeKVyZQFmGYLrmXykY2LPEq8Qp9ztwiiiFYebinuC2rXkPGY1R9bCDNu0589KqrZ5mccPaAVBr_ytBDymqkVhltlQp_GXLaQ/s400/cop3.jpg" border="0" />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. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289107532543075234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0aZwQx_Yz9UeEQ5giwLTnHQuKWQXH5PQv_WO5JjZ4vOaU4VjBG6irV6juQvJlB8rqjoe1D6yb5fWrYcdCO_7wydKP-E9IHR0zTgUFFH-OFTY7IYX1qTwK6M7OpJXX2q8vDVWdA2PTPIIa/s400/cop2.jpg" border="0" />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.<br />The press was positioned in the balcony along with an overflow crowd. People were nice to us, nobody yelled at us for being there. There are times when someone doesn't want you there and things can get a little sketchy. The service was simple and at times uplifting as people told funny stories about Oscar Grant. It sounds like he was doing all he could to make a good life for himself. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289107731686115506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWw6uN6j1w9uXHVlIAc4WXVQDQ9FqgHv7Su7Tvv3UjBVsu-rt2peNoxzH7-iaqJbCDT4ehY1IaHw7qqRgoFm1RpkHsAwyxxxNlrnDdk32PrmQkowrfJg9RrkqvG-xpyTo_21jeivwczFL/s400/cop5.jpg" border="0" />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.”<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289107350988107042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbYlEKTHkHatGSuXoRLCCNm9BP4NEU3JtZVZfGksm4G4ay9eQC84AYCLzdwc9pZJZn7dtzM9rIf052ExDfcW9dbPx9sAtqwQz2K8hvsNE8B7OcF4SLVZW9S61g-g3jHoMdYhM5B9sldn8/s400/cop1.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-90425398739029063132009-01-07T20:22:00.000-08:002009-01-07T20:43:59.698-08:00Bye Bye MacWorld<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288777134132844306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnx8Rl_SE2DeQLzaUTxITnJXkAsaGBCrGixkYJkdI0QlS9Lq8i47vb1Hap88lq4PF4oVUKfjdfSu5fhUPeOJeIyoJFvBNAEwNPsjhk04dhk7Q1O1NYOPwOdzrzPTfbuAOwJ5iyJWHdfMs/s400/mac1.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288777211510710866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJDlKT9IrV3q2igCp6HUyU48Mn7oDRVRutHLVcb9OQJMGZ4_YdGbGk7D9Z4k_5xHa9XmCUU_UZk3ebnsMhXqd7_qAdmCgj50pyrx6AMbZDtQ2EAOmKV2QqIkSDght_utKtQjJ_-Dwo4h8/s400/mac2.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />The program lasted about 90 minutes. 90 painfully boring minutes. With nothing really new and exciting to announce in the way of products, Phil went over the many new upgrades to the company’s software like iLife and iWork. Phil is definitely no Steve Jobs. Even the crowd wasn’t its usual self. Apple nerds have near orgasmic experiences, belting out gasps and oooohs when Steve would reveal a new product. Hell, all he had to do was show up and they would go nuts. Today, it was mostly silent. <div><div><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288777466698134050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy1v5kALTPG6_O0R0L1fH82Y122arVVpehuD1upheK0YsCRgui4HTWAjTPf6BI5pU1ASH1DoPUUH35n_VRxTjjtfXLr5Rtuat1BWAzrePd4k5DNfu_BXz0ljWY0BT7rCmjJmAkXubFEd7b/s400/mac5.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288777290687017458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXYgsqcKgbJ-ySx-xpjYrTexIFanSg-jgOv60N_lu3DgopTYSlZoLYuUoX3Md5EZmvCTSUFf0skp7zKLU7OU6Ap-ZvQyVyA-XUfj3V-HmAJlugFxal_UOZVX4s-sh0O_OMbFwJe4qV9r_/s400/mac3.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288777384230632146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBUkYP-cV34uZfez9ZAaITqsuwhH-QU2t6YpXmuaqYvBqIoDKBiBBElEqFr15vP__UaqbTWdjU0gZAhDqMZiw6MAmXPjPl-XYVzYVJT1hiR0xwr8GCnkII7kBymJm-tJFjDY-H7Qk6kRP/s400/mac4.jpg" border="0" />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. </div></div></div></div></div>Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-17578624134116879772009-01-06T13:15:00.000-08:002009-01-06T13:33:15.732-08:00Some Good News<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuilc0UYKJ-jogiK3S83KbS0U9cgp9jOcWQH8I3Nk7E015QhiiDPDhw_U6cK_r15Ws9nhtcBWOkzt-EGzo0IlCGXoYva_B5R1Y3weLZQyx9G7u9SCL3aLG3uaYfWzimyEvLaWkB5zgaXb/s1600-h/Souza%5B1%5D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288294149549108130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 360px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsuilc0UYKJ-jogiK3S83KbS0U9cgp9jOcWQH8I3Nk7E015QhiiDPDhw_U6cK_r15Ws9nhtcBWOkzt-EGzo0IlCGXoYva_B5R1Y3weLZQyx9G7u9SCL3aLG3uaYfWzimyEvLaWkB5zgaXb/s400/Souza%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a>Amidst all the doom and gloom of late, a few positive things happened on Monday. I covered a somewhat positive story today and friend got himself a really sweet job.<br /><br />My friend <a href="http://www.petesouza.com/">Pete Souza</a>, a talented photographer and a super nice guy, was named as Barack Obama’s White House photographer. The White House if familiar territory for Pete, he served as <a href="http://www.ronaldreaganmemorial.com/photo_gallery.asp">Ronald Reagan’s photographer </a>during his second term in office. Pete will do a great job documenting Obama’s historic presidency. Congratulations Pete, the position is well deserved. A story about Pete and the new job can be found <a href="http://nppa.org/news_and_events/news/2009/01/souza.html">here</a>.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288296065689073922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHX8EPX5jICaGh8SYiwS_WZAlXybxgNwx8xIFLmDCxHRzvQ31ZJRnHRFHT8Sr9DRJxobXUbZr8BIdkbHwQ29-eHiJVDY_FssbJfoPHICzZmuoKrb_mFj7UWiISp4d7gNdzilMF65yKTLYB/s400/cars2.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288296506736970594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWg05qXq0N2IGMEDfLzn5nqmSMXqdchqwmGq9-0egFX2gDJRDPaYOjndbgTXanh0JlxdhtOWa222dTuK6d3ZlntjjBzgCQ5CCGoia0U3w3CjxQ4xHJIJtFlce50X1dR_uVOEK-P6XRLKG/s400/cars3.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288295965676112434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxypPFlAtO6jbN3ayA2ubTuS1TDaw3xzbfr1IZqXxEFjaJ3IL-wpI29_StERMnjo3VlNMY95Rb8JGLzdg5ipxTzKVTLiuzQmFJqSK_UBZ91xRlWHMLdHony9Qp4-iSWmiZkUY2DyU9sVbS/s400/cars1.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-29342295213510783702008-12-31T09:56:00.000-08:002008-12-31T10:44:00.273-08:00Ending 2008 On A Good Note<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286016520151858594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbFAcShz_DbTrilVjdX0NP4BnbYzRbgT2Xrux4isUqHj0_uADwwokLMNcYeSH8FEFBdBbty3B3xxktvkiCDRoIGOHRRjMz8wEqASL8ogrCQ4adfm1CsHH0DqGHPFd1ETGnL6vTlEUnM9S/s400/wendell.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><br />I received an email the other day from a man I met on his wedding day. It was a gay wedding at San Francisco City Hall. It wasn’t a big wedding, just the man and his partner along with his brother - a simple union. I was taking photos for a story I was doing about gay couples rushing to get married before election day because the threat that Prop. 8 would overturn gay marriage in California. I asked the two men if I could photograph them getting married and they both agreed. At the time, I had no idea that this photo would mean the world to these newlyweds.<br /><br />Here is the note I received from the couple… <div></div><br /><br /><div><em>Dear Justin, </em></div><br /><div><em>My name is Wendell and I am one of the Chinese guys you took a wedding pic of at City Hall on October 15th, 2008. I don't expect you to remember me or Jon but I wanted to thank you for what you did. </em></div><div><em></em></div><div><em>You were this nice unassuming dude just waiting in the hall with the rest of us when you approached me and Jon and respectfully asked if you could snap our picture because of our Aloha shirts. I would pretty much guess this was just another news story for you to cover, however, the picture you took helped to immortalize the day for us and turn what we thought was not a big deal into a very meaningful day. </em></div><br /><div><em>You have no idea how many family and friends were excited to see this "bonus" pic of our ceremony as we did not clue very many people in on the event and many reprimanded us for not letting them know about the ceremony in advance. Your picture helped them to feel like they didn't miss anything and after many of them saw your picture, they asked us if we had hired a professional photographer! </em></div><br /><div><em>Now we have become huge fans of your work and expect you to be a Number 1, most sought after photographer in the next few years to come! We can't wait till you become even more famous than your web site so we can tell everyone, "Yeah, that's the dude that took our wedding picture way back when!" Till then, we wish you continued and ever growing success in your career endeavors and best wishes to you and your family in 2009! Thanks again for helping to make a difference in our lives. </em></div><br /><div><em>Kindest regards, Wendell and Jon</em> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div> </div><div>It is a rare occasion that I get such a generous and thoughtful note. When I do, it reminds my why I love my job and how great it is to be able to bring happiness to someone through a captured moment. </div><div> </div><div>Happy New Year. </div>Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-75643746474950619572008-12-17T20:34:00.000-08:002008-12-17T20:38:40.669-08:00Sign Of The Times<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4evhxUlcjTISdTlOqRx4vbix3TUEmzifEIm8umXSuj5ih74V4Ger4csWyeJb0eHRCcw4JbyWyCf_swdQcsWtoexXk27CESc9Ji0S5S08mjX7OOV8Ke61m14_yB0zpQRhBpll1eXeSSu2E/s1600-h/job2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280984246312642178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4evhxUlcjTISdTlOqRx4vbix3TUEmzifEIm8umXSuj5ih74V4Ger4csWyeJb0eHRCcw4JbyWyCf_swdQcsWtoexXk27CESc9Ji0S5S08mjX7OOV8Ke61m14_yB0zpQRhBpll1eXeSSu2E/s400/job2.jpg" border="0" /></a>The organizers of the “Put Your Talent to Work” job and resource expo hadn’t planned on so many people attending the job fair. The event, hosted by the California Employment Development Department, was expecting close to 400 job seekers to attend. Two hours into the expo nearly 1200 people had arrived.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280984504085208322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK1PlCMEEpYTyYj1pLQmIVy6NLVxGCk5GumGxWzcqmTocsRkicRpHW-GBxNY0GKZYyg-QcHAkKuRSvkiAMP_V0bSCsIWi71hJxOy02j7MIicKYRDEnnDmhH_ZUoDhihKbqklRTUlBqJjPA/s400/jobs5.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280984155386558530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSaiwtb0RLKZKNkR5U2MdOpgiVQTDRPj7olWyWFhydJbhkFB8nCbP5qYanM7i6ODfHV-WmMNaEZocjuIYSLrwpjRQ04CNr4Dah8Y4HtrxPb7buMsGBbe3KuD8byh01u6I2iqFN-zIZExq-/s400/job1.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280984415508620114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 279px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5kvwOuLq-3uxElnKTWd1mmYkRJQXy14LKNOT30KO9VJvbWALx3cSvGM_X3eax7YIGs9AvRAS-6M8lPI52jxwMR6dWwuyXLoiQKCUUioN-I-t9Ia9_OYTMfseVOYHEkhHXSyqIIAUYQB1c/s400/job4.jpg" border="0" />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.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280984343514077746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yT9jtNSVaH-lgTjOUl0MmJ4qoYRB5bJBbt6ECdvlpJ1gSuuHJHwktkGu6QUGGvFHZ-iNBj52kMfYDWFWSKUhT3O4GIiYQ_VmOSthWiCqVlNo5p8cBk_Xv3JU8oz9xY9oNz2h5nKkKYc9/s400/job3.jpg" border="0" />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.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-51192870530074175232008-12-16T21:29:00.000-08:002008-12-16T22:07:50.858-08:00Gas Man<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280629403467718530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1vQdqgkcBzdw_UdvlohZ4M9uC5C0NYzWx6TArZ3CBW-k8hp7NG7d-mb7-JEGb8d5HMltKgG1juHQusnVEvzDDQb3JQQW5tZ2AQr5TREPiRday75YQ-Xj5cs2qal4O_A8BK0wD8oi72R_/s400/gas4.jpg" border="0" />Gas Man, Petrol Boy, Gas Price King, Gas Huffer, Mr. Gas. You name it, I’ve been called it. Since 2002 I have been shooting gas prices on a very regular basis and friends and colleagues make sure to poke fun at me regularly. The jokes continually roll in.<br /><br />I even had a little bet with a co-worker a few years back. At the time, he was shooting a lot of subway security and he thought that by the end of the year he would have shot more security photos than my gas prices. Well, he was wrong. I think I edged him out by 2 or 3 assignments.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280636591746642370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 96px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZOaFPWFwmaW3QQ2tysDBkhcK2JXF5jrs2E9JiNzGCkYD3qgJrX90JX_Rv5FcveanQbS5cGvyJLYCwKGyB36Yxjyl3xeq7ms4gnSgtiAqPNItQxQqMmgkKxQfrSM6dIo7zlNwnjLgoDjW/s400/gas6.jpg" border="0" />There were some weeks that I would do gas prices twice in one week. Gas trucks, prices through the raindrops on windows, tight shots, loose shots, people pumping gas. The list goes on. I even shot gas prices on vacation once. I see a pump and I am drawn to it. It’s an illness, I know.<br /><br />In 2002 the big story with gas prices was that they were nearing $2.00 a gallon. Every time it inched closer, I was there. People were pissed. Two dollar gas?!?! Since then we’ve seen the price reach beyond $5.00 a gallon in areas around where I live. Yup, I visited that station more than once. But, I never expected to see what is happening today. Gas for $1.59 a gallon.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280629692965696418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHopWCb_SIsebgePJpmAtc7BqUFQiTREi9qRP1gm8wb0XZbUjutuzMGkUXjX5uV-SBTirPxtObcUK5MGEqOGX7LaIieWZ54JLzNtHrXrm-wryKT1ClYkvacHnHlq9mINjHq7yQhoaSsxv/s400/gas5.jpg" border="0" />I honestly never thought I would see gas for less than $3.00 in my lifetime, let alone under $2.00. People are thrilled, everyone loves them some cheap gas. You would think my assignment today would be a positive one about gas buyers rejoicing. Sorry. In case you didn’t get the memo, there isn’t any good news anymore. Even when consumers finally get a break they get dealt a blow. Seems that the cheap gas is all of the sudden hurting the economy.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280629255354527330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEOkQ-DZ2YjPzFItxM_peztvRacEZhdeA1ghMauxVRE8er5Oyum_27oj1uLbP2CjhW0zwBh0LZv2jse2vgAcfi3KvStz8P7CAgCYn2Qd93HN1Mv2WgD9F_j9F_iLL1lVfVVc6tPNHYYXM/s400/gas3.jpg" border="0" />Anyway, on my quest to find a different approach to shooting gas prices today, I saw a gas truck making a delivery at a gas station. Sometimes you can get something decent from this scenario, so I pulled in to the station. I went up to the guy, who I think I may have photographed before, and asked if he minded if I took a few frames of him doing his thing. He came back with the most ridiculous line/excuse I have ever heard. He said “ever since 9/11 we can’t allow you to take photos of the gas truck or the operation.” He went on to say “if we see people taking photos we are supposed to call the cops.”<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280629085396153986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBxNFaeorSvaNooLmXhqu2PCTtiBtHH86_Mdgu8CnXozk1Aok5THlZbz9rXWNSdZ1qDkyo5LEp4ZOoAXCSwBIz2nbz6Z6AR01EncQUkfW_bttZSsIArczvsoJ4BEXm8cl43Y5CU4ZV-zny/s400/gas1.jpg" border="0" />I stood there for a second trying to understand. I almost started laughing. My better judgment prevailed. I asked if he was sure about this policy since it was the first I had heard of it and had shot these trucks several times in the past without incident. I’ve actually had some good conversations with gas truck drivers.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280629167053426338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4DzGEmgPk36KF99DhXGEf06IdwoHRpQsXnl7KC-_b0FzAScvst02gFIogrcyrX8jAK2QecWEauUpeXBcRRXyyxj-Nuwlzb8A38DvIuNaa925OkjTaJjDdBD998tsOoaPT-GtJWMIIvEC/s400/gas2.jpg" border="0" />This line is becoming all too popular with police and other security types and it really bothers me. Yes, 9/11 was terrible but do we really need to use that day as an excuse to try and block people from taking photographs of bridges, buildings, gas trucks and popular tourist sites? Even worse, do people really need to be detained and in some cases arrested for doing so? There are way too many cases of this.<br /><br />One thing I can say is that “ever since 9/11” I have shot a ton of gas price pictures.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3269973944419341194.post-6229707918157844752008-12-07T15:19:00.000-08:002008-12-07T16:24:15.089-08:00Product Review - Think Tank Shape Shifter Backpack<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY43yw2FFeZrT31gbGJ5IN-5M7N8OWqEhKe4KNxN7-96Z3HjC-0LlqqM11ansosWjAwE794Yjcr4bwhTfPGtQYeCtzxdzC1HGjQI5Faffohpjp9jmAAFN7Sf3H2IZzfWEhus_1dr3HbKat/s1600-h/ss2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277193711021568626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 251px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY43yw2FFeZrT31gbGJ5IN-5M7N8OWqEhKe4KNxN7-96Z3HjC-0LlqqM11ansosWjAwE794Yjcr4bwhTfPGtQYeCtzxdzC1HGjQI5Faffohpjp9jmAAFN7Sf3H2IZzfWEhus_1dr3HbKat/s400/ss2.jpg" border="0" /></a>It was back in July when I first laid eyes on prototype of <a href="http://thinktankphoto.com/">Think Tank Photo’s </a>newest bag – the Shape Shifter expandable backpack. E.P.A. photographer <a href="http://bop.nppa.org/2006/still_photography/winners/SAI/70150.html">John Mabanglo </a>and I were attending one of our last design board meetings with Think Tank founders Doug Murdoch, Kurt Rogers and Deanne Fitzmaurice when Doug surprised us with the then unnamed backpack. John and I were smitten with this bag and we wanted to get our hands on one as soon as possible.<br /><br />Luck came my way in early September when I was fortunate to receive a pre-production Shape Shifter. For the past three months I have been using it on a daily basis and am more than happy with this backpack.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277193564694511186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIV-0Fb7XkjRQBVT2dcvsSPOj86kLJl0M_b-iq5YLWHRUbbSOjbYercmmIexmfFLFl0vFG9MmeV_JYOYuwa2WPtF1FCZzzrG8cxEceY1S3hvNbHoR-9ue9cR75PQZTCi8tXMFVnRpq4FP/s320/ss1.jpg" border="0" />As a news photographer who has to shoot and file on the run, this bag fits my needs perfectly. It is great when I have to go on the subway, plane or some other mode of public transport to an assignment and I don’t want to have cameras dangling from my shoulders. When I’m ready to work I don’t have to go through my assignment with a bulky empty backpack (like the <a href="http://www.thinktankphoto.com/ttp_product_ArprtAntdt.php">Airport Antidote</a>) on my back. No more knocking people over with my empty Antidote as I try to move through a crowd. Obviously, this won’t be a good fit for everyone since it is a relatively small backpack that won’t accommodate the long glass needed to shoot sports or wildlife. It is definitely geared towards a photojournalist or documentary photographer.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277194122178380226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-8UyCfjdNYUtLI2y6XW5WyR8GKyrIvdIvzvxNqmpD400zexDx0BEyGGSYJwH3_M3mZzeHqGLWH92jDds6y_UpbsjckMohrTT5jgXgDS5p2eu-HqePk2dnED_2gUU84hrLmRLM_zeJ8g5i/s400/ss4.jpg" border="0" />Here’s how it works. The backpack expands and compresses by way of a zipper that creates room to store your cameras (2 bodies and up to 3 lenses) when expanded. Your camera gear is held in five neoprene pouches that cinch at top with bungees. The laptop compartment has a removable Artificial Intelligence laptop case that can hold up to a 17 inch laptop and is included to add a little more protection. I haven’t used the case since the compartment has more than enough padding on its own.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277194044642064546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 277px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGriYcf54LkySdb8GUkMML0jpvrndTr9SjEMg8HFWFI7h8z9UyIzenHmRE_QaoV3FjawubvgPhjl7ysm94QXvo6GcFVr8ZjA6lBQk61R3T9oGX4rG6i8sv162FJfF2bEXHDH1bAypPqp1H/s400/ss3.jpg" border="0" />The camera section gets a little tight when all of the pouches are loaded with cameras and lenses, but everything fits. I have been using mine with 2 bodies and 3 lenses, the 70-200, 24-70 and 16-35. The actual production models will be a little bit bigger to accommodate Nikon cameras and lenses, which are a tad bit longer than Canon. This should remedy the space issue. Also inside the camera section are two large mesh pockets that have zippers. Good for storing credentials, cards, pens and maybe condoms if you’re planning on getting lucky after your evening assignment.<br /><br />There are even more pockets on the outside of the bag. The top part of the outside opens up to a good place to store your card reader, card wallet, air cards, notepad, cables and other gadgets. There is quite a bit of space in this storage area. Directly below is an even larger area that expands with even more zippered pockets. I haven’t used this area yet – I just don’t carry that much stuff. But, it’s good to know that they are there.<br /><br />The padding feels nice on the back with a large area that allows air to flow through so you don’t get too hot with the backpack on. I’ve worn it out and about on warm days and never felt like my back was overheating like it does while wearing other backpacks. There is a support belt to use with heavy loads that easily tucks away into a pouch on the bottom or can be removed entirely when you don’t need the support. I really like this feature. There is nothing worse than dangling straps.<br /><br />Do you like numbers? Here’s how the Shape Shifter adds up.<br /><br /><strong>Outer Dimensions When Expanded:</strong>20”H x 12.5”W x 7”D”<br /><br /><strong>Outer Dimensions When Compressed</strong>:20”H x 12.5W” x 3”D<br /><br /><strong>Laptop Compartment Inner Dimensions:</strong>19” H x 12”W x 1.5”D<br /><br /><strong>Weight:</strong>3.75 lbs<br /><br />The Think Tank designers have hit a home run with this well thought out bag. The compression and contraction design definitely makes it a very versatile and unique. Like I said, it won’t suit the needs of every photographer out there, but it marriage made in heaven for newspaper, wire and documentary photographers. I also think it would be a great bag to take on vacation so you aren’t walking around the Venice canals displaying all of you precious camera gear. Definitely take a look at this bag which is on sale now for $249.<br /><br />More information can be found <a href="http://thinktankphoto.com/ttp_product_ShpShftr.php">HERE</a>.Justin Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10629697360057377352noreply@blogger.com1