February 24, 2000

It’s technically the 24th now, just after 1 AM and I am thoroughly frustrated with the day’s work. Actually, the last two days’ work.

Assignment: Cover Robbie Knievel jumping his motorcycle over a moving 87-ton locomotive, 2 boxcars and caboose during a FOX live television production. The site is an old-fashioned train depot in a state park near quiet Palestine, TX, a town of about 20,000 people about 110 miles southeast of Dallas. The show aired live between 7 and 8 pm central time, and the jump was to take place around 7:45 pm in darkness.

The PR found me. She informed me that media day was yesterday (my reply: sure, but that info is useless to me now) and that there’s nothing to shoot here. She’s telling me this as people continue to hammer away on the takeoff ramp, string cameras and mikes around the train, and do all kinds of stuff. She said that tomorrow was the day to shoot (thanks for the tip) and that I should leave and come back then. I said I needed a couple of pix for our preview for the DMN. She wasn’t impressed with the DMN, I guess she’s not from Dallas or Texas. (Later, I found out the company’s out of New York City) She grudgingly let me hang around but I was not to go into the "production area," meaning the whole side of the track where a lot of the actually work was being done. Not wanting to ruin whatever relationship we might have, I decided not to be too pushy. I then asked her from where we (photographers) might be shooting the jump and also where we should meet to get situated. She said she didn’t know, like they haven’t really thought about that insignificant detail yet. Again, since I might have to deal with her tomorrow (and it being a more important day), I didn’t want to badger her.

I was thinking ahead, which I later found proved to be unnecessary.

Two hours later, the PR decided she wanted to clear the area of media as RK was about to practice his jumps. This I find reasonable since I wouldn’t want to have practice pix of the stunt published before the big event. I told her that I was done shooting and needed to stay in the office to transmit pictures. She didn’t say yes but she didn’t say no, she just hurried off. I figured as long as I stayed hidden, they wouldn’t harass me.

It would’ve been very easy for me to make a picture of RK practicing. It would not have been a very good one because I couldn’t get to a good angle without giving myself away, but it would have shown the scene nicely. And we need a picture of the guy to combo for the package. I decided not to shoot because 1) I didn’t want to be caught and banned from the photo pool for the jump and 2) I told her I wouldn’t. Well, reason #1 was moot because, as I found out the next day, I wasn’t going to be in the photo pool anyway. Had I known that, I would’ve taken the shot of the guy, put him in the paper, and then see how the PR liked it.

Reason #2 is more worthy of discussion. Should I have kept my word even though the request (for me to leave the premises) was unjustified? There are some times in my career when I’ve been willing to disobey every rule if need be, especially the rules that I can’t see the reasoning for. During those times, the ethics of my behavior as a photojournalist has bordered on that of a paparazzo. So what? In my mind, I’m always debating my professional obligations versus my ethical sense. I hate to be a paparazzo and weasel my way into a picture, except when there’s good reason to or when I’m po’d. One example: some months ago the singer Shania Twain taped a TV special at Texas Stadium after a Cowboys game. After covering the game, I stuck around for more than an hour for a picture of her for our concert review. Then the PR cleared all photographers from the floor, saying she didn’t want pictures before the air date (two weeks later). I went up and shot from the luxury suites, which actually provided a better angle. I called my editor and explained the situation. We figured that Texas Stadium is a public place and they had no right to ban anything. We ran it.

Back to our story:

Later in Dallas that night, I talked with my editor (who’s known for technical preciseness and planning) about what we might want to do for the jump. We decided to remote two cameras together. I would shoot one and have the other one on a tripod. The remote would let me shoot two cameras with one shutter release. To be able to transmit that same night, I was to use 2 Canon digital cameras. I then called up some other staffers to borrow cords, etc.

The next day, with the car loaded down with step-ladder, tripod, a variety of lenses, food and drink, I set out again for Palestine, TX. Got to the park at 4 PM. They were expecting about 5,000 people, much more than the parking lots could accommodate. I talked my way into the media parking lot (always an iffy proposition), which was still about a quarter mile from the site itself.

Thousands of people were already there and still coming in. Negotiating the various confusing crowd-control barricades and fencing, I could not find the PR. But I was directed to get a press pass (a flimsy laminated paper one, which proved totally useless) and go to the media area. I saw that the area was not a good photo position and that the AP photographer, my good friend Matt Otero, was not there. Hmmmm, I thought, there must be another place where they’re putting him. So I decided to look around while shooting some crowd shots. Then I saw my reporter who had the phone number of the PR. She called the PR and made the mistake of handing me the phone to talk with her. Experience tells me that if I need to ask for something, it is best done face to face. It’s much too easy for the PR to tell me NO over the phone. And she did. She said that AP’s Matt was the pool photographer and I couldn’t be in the pool because they can only put two people (the official FOX photog and Matt) at that place.

I strongly suspect that this was a lie. I only saw her once that night from far away, escorting Matt across the track to the "forbidden" area, probably for a picture of RK before the jump. Who knows? Left to fend for myself in the crowd, I was not happy about Matt being able to shoot from a good angle, on the side with the lights behind him, and getting god-knows-what access to RK. Being affiliated with the DMN has spoiled me. People in the Dallas area, in Texas, and in the Southwest have good regard for the DMN, probably the region’s most visible city and newspaper. I’ve gotten used to getting special treatment and special access and accommodations. Now I felt like I was in college again, working for a school paper no one cared about.

But then I thought, Matt’s position, while it may be good, may not yield the best picture. Who knows how lucky (or unlucky) I might be? I set out to look for a position for myself hoping that if everything went right, I could luck out with a better photo. Have I always been this competitive? Or is it the DMN photo culture that instilled this in me? It was very important to me that I make a better photo than the wires. Something special, something DMN special. The pressure was on.

I received news from the night editor that she needed a few pics by 7 PM for early deadline. Luckily, earlier, I saw a crowd of people being led across the tracks to a trailer within shooting distance across the wrought-iron fence. Suspecting something was about to happen, I jumped on a bench and shot over the fence. They waited for RK, who came out and prayed with them in a circle. I had my RK picture! I snuck back into the depot to transmit what I had shot. My "press pass" credential did not allow me into the depot building. With luck and charm I made it in to send my three pictures of the crowds and of the prayer. Back out for the big event. I ditched the remote idea and decided to take my ladder and shoot with only one camera from near the back of the crowd and with a 70-200 to keep it a little loose. By then I had abandoned any thoughts of a special picture (well, maybe one: that he be backlit perfectly by one of the floodlights in the air!) and hoped for just an ordinary guy-jumping-over-the-train in darkness picture. Anything will do, just report the news, Huy, nothing fancy.

I didn’t even get that. The angle was alright, except for the fireworks that blew up from the ground and completely blew away my images. My pictures looked like a bomb had gone off. I had failed. And Matt had the better photo.

I thought about a lot of things in dealing with this failure. 1. How often we’re asked to shoot very difficult assignments better than everyone else regardless of the number of photographers involved or the access given. I remember lining up to shoot the Papal motorcade in St. Louis, quarreling with the police whether or not my ladder was too close to ropes. Waiting for 7 hours for a brief 5- to 10-second shoot of the Pope going by at 35 mph all the while knowing that those photogs on the Papal pool would have an infinitely greater chance of making a better picture as they rode on the flatbed in front of the Popemobile. Or being the only shooter at a national political convention and expected cover it better than all the wires. Or being the only shooter at sporting events while AP usually has two or more. Though I often succeed at this immense task, the times that I don’t still distress me.

2. Though the odds were against me, I should’ve done better, because the bottom line (did you get THE picture?) is the only one that counts.

3. In this assignment, of the many things I did right (through experience) and still messed up.

5. BATTLE OF CONFLICTING THOUGHTS: I-am-not-a-good-dependable-photog-who’ll-bring-back-THE-picture vs. you-can’t-win-‘em-all.

The jump was uneventful. RK executed it beautifully, and that was that. My feature pictures were strong, the action photo that everyone wanted to see was ruined by fireworks. I should’ve done better, someway, somehow.

Are we like athletes? You either WIN or LOSE, there are no excuses. Back at the office, I sought out my editor to talk about what happened. He said that I have the option of leaving an assignment if I wasn’t given the opportunity to make a good picture. I didn’t drive for two hours to be put in a position to make the second-best picture. I needed to be firm about this with the PR folks and be prepared to be kicked out (which was unenforceable in this case, it was very easy to get in) or leave on my own. I should have pushed the issue with the PR until I was certain that no was no. Then I could’ve left or stayed for a possible picture from another angle. (This is what I did. If RK had wiped out on the landing, I would’ve been in position for a picture). There will always be a case for second-guessing me, but I hoped that my experience and feeling would guide me through the decision-making during the event.

From Matt of the AP: The PR woman from NYC knew exactly what she was doing. She didn’t care about local media’s coverage of the event. The FOX photog set up nine cameras and assistants, had the jump from all different angles and moved them over the wire. Just another day at the shop.

Behind the Viewfinder - A Year in the Life of Photojournalism
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