SICK BUT FEELING GOOD

Photographers get sick. We shoot in 100 degree heat, then the reporter blasts the air conditioner in the car. We shoot in driving snow and wind until we can't feel our lower half then sit in a sweltering edit bay for a few hours. We forget to eat dinner because we needed to finish editing a story. We put our bodies through a lot of extremes all while lugging around 50 to 80 pounds of gear. And we love it, but our bodies fight back.          

I have had a terrible cold. Colds and news are not a good mix. My lungs ache from holding my breath to keep from coughing in the middle interviews. Achy muscles do not like to carry lots of camera equipment. A runny nose does not stop for live shots. But I cannot call in sick. I probably have a few hours of sick time accrued from working at my new station for six weeks. Unless I am unable to move, I would rather be at work suffering than stuck at home feeling guilty for not being hospitalized. Plus, who would I whine to about being sick if I was not at work?          

With this cold I have suffered a symptom a day. Monday was sore throat day, Tuesday was runny nose day, Wednesday was hacking cough day, you get the idea. After a week, they started combining, it was achy muscles, itchy eyes and dry cough day.          

Reporter Todd Hauer and I headed south to Cumberland County, North Carolina. Four young men were fishing and 'coonin' on Cape Fear River when their canoe capsized. Two of them made it to the shore despite being weighted down with fire arms and battery belts for spot lighting the raccoons. The other two drowned. Sheriff's officials say it was due to the weight of the battery belts and fishing vests.          

It rained the night before along the river. As we four wheeled in my Chevy Lumina through the red mud, I knew it was going to be a long cold evening of shooting dusky pictures of the river and fleeing search crews. Sure enough, in the distance we could see approaching head lights. We pulled off onto the muddy shoulder and I started shooting sheriff's cars and rescue crews. As my hands started to numb from the cold and my cough moved into my chest, it was turning into a miserable, non-visual night.          

After a quick interview with the sheriff, we went in search of people affected by the drownings. With less than 20 minutes of day light remaining, we found some teenage boys riding their bicycles in the mud. The oldest of the four became the designated spokesman. He was "kin" to one of the survivors and told us where we could find him and the families of the two fatal victims. Once we were back in the car headed to the survivor's house, we set some standards for the story. We would not, under any circumstance bother the families of the two fatal victims. If someone did not want to talk, we would leave them be.          

We went to three houses, all relatives of one of the survivors. At the last house we found out the young man was in a neighboring town with his family for the rest of the night and did not want the media attention. "Let them be" Todd and I signaled one another in the stranger's living room Before leaving they told us where we could find the other survivor.          

We pulled up to the house. We could smell baking bread and see the Christmas tree glowing through the window. The mother of the survivor answered the door. In good Southern tradition, she invited us in to her home. We sat down and asked her and the father of the young man about the day's events. Immediately she told us she did not want to talk on camera. But I could tell she wanted to talk. She needed to let out her worst fears that a few hours ago were all too close to coming true. She needed someone to listen who could reassure her that her only son was coming home as soon as the sheriff's investigation was done. Big tears welled up in her worried eyes as she told Todd and I about having to wait all day for word her son was still alive. Despite Todd and the father being in the room, soon she was talking to me. We connected on a higher feminine basis. She was not talking to me because I work at a TV station, she was searching for someone who understood her fear and relief. I could hear over my shoulder Todd and the father talking about college basketball. But we were talking about life. We discussed why kids do crazy things, how mothers know when their kids are in trouble, how God chooses which children to keep on earth and which he brings home to Heaven. Then she posed a big question on me, "How can people go on your news station and talk about their children who have been killed?" Suddenly frames of the hundreds of interviews I have shot with grieving families went through my mind.

"Like you, they wanted to talk about what happened and what made their children so special. A lot of people don't want to talk on camera, and I understand that, it is a scary thing. But other people hope that by talking about it on the news, that it will make people think about their actions, like drunk driving or keeping guns locked up."

She cracked a smile for the first time since I had been there. "You know I don't want to talk." I smiled back, "I know."

Todd tapped me on the shoulder, "Lynn, I know you could sit here and talk all night, but we need to get back to Raleigh." The mother laughed, "Oh my, you have a news story to get on the air."

Todd and I got in the car in silence. After a few minutes on Highway 87 Todd and I realized all we have is some stale pictures of rescue crews driving by and an interview with the sheriff. I looked at Todd, "I don't feel bad about it, I really don't, do you?" Todd shook his head, "No, there are some stories that just weren't meant to be stuck on video tape."

I know I work for a great TV station. A station I previously worked at had a "by all means get the story" mentality. Too may times in my past I had to walk up to the front door of people's homes with the camera rolling and ambush them at their front door badgering them about a tragedy that was just a few hours old. The argument in the car with the reporter was always, "Why are we doing this? What purpose will it serve other than making these people hate us and upsetting them more?" And every time, without fail, the answer was, "If we don't do it, another station will". And I did it, not because I wanted to, but because that station believed it was my job and it was cutting edge journalism. Thankfully it was the cutting edge of their ratings which have been slashed since they instituted this mentality.

With this story, Todd and I could not tell the whole story of four families devastated by a boating accident on a vicious river. We could tell the story to the best of our ability with what we had---a sheriff's interview and good journalism. We were accountable with this story, with every story, to these families and to our viewers. We did not have a great interview on tape, but we knew in our hearts that we worked on this story to the best of our abilities and that we left these people feeling better about TV news and our role in it.

When we got back to Raleigh, we informed the producers of what we had on tape. They were not disappointed or threatening us with our jobs, they told us where it would go in the show. As I sat there editing the story, I thought about the four families and knew they would be watching. Although it was not the whole story, it was a solid, factual story and I felt good about it as it ran on the air. Then I realized I felt really good, my cold was gone.

December 20, 1998

Lynn French