A Tribute to Dan Tichonchuk

Dan Tichonchuk was a photog I worked with on the UT. He was short, funny and Polish. He was also a very nice guy. The photo is of Dan and our boss, Stan Griffin, also a great guy and a terrific boss.

My memories of Dan Tichonchuk agree with all the others, he was a genuinely nice guy and a dedicated photog.

One of my fondest memories was when we were sitting around on the night shift shortly after I came to 919 and he was telling me about his wedding. I was fresh from the bush of Idaho and totally naive about anything Polish, especially weddings. He had me rolling on the floor as he described the three-day event with non-stop food and drink and guests who would celebrate until they couldnt stand up, then lie down in the most comfortable corner they could find until the festivities began again the next day. And I can still imagine him presiding over the whole shebang with that impish grin of his, never flustered, just making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink and a time good enough to exhaust them into a coma.

And I recall the sports stats notebooks he used to keep. I have no idea what they were or what they contained, but he was religious about keeping track of a lot of something... scores or batting averages or the grass length of his favorite golf green or whatever it was he listed over the years. And I do know he could give you most any sports statistics your little heart required, and do it off the top of his head, win or lose, drunk or sober.

The other outstanding memory I have of Dan was an incredible story he told when he came into work one Monday. He calmly told us that he had been kidnapped and taken to Mexico over the weekend! And he was serious! He said he had been to a dance or some event, I think at a Chula Vista country club, and for some reason, came out alone. I think his wife, Cookie had gone home earlier. He said he was accosted in the parking lot by a couple of Mexicans who did not speak English, but threatened him with knives, one may have also had a small gun. He said they forced him into his own car, the little gray Toyota station wagon he drove, and made him drive them to Mexico and down the coast toward Ensenada. At some point they turned out into the desert and drove to a totally isolated spot. By now it was in the early hours, totally dark and Dan said he was convinced they were going to kill him, probably just for his car. They apparently stepped away to talk between themselves, and he managed to slip into the brush and then elude them as they looked for him in the darkness.

I don't recall how he said he managed to find his way back to the highway or how he got back to Tijuana. But he knew better than to contact the Mexican police while still in Mexico. It was common for any American involved in anything in Mexico at the time, to be put in jail while things were sorted out. It seems like he said he walked across the border that Sunday, or perhaps he called someone to come and get him, but whatever the case, he showed up at work the next Monday quite as calm and as collected as he ever was and so glad to be alive that as far as I know, he never did pursue things any further

He did say he hated to lose his car.

Jumper

We got a call that there was a jumper on a ledge on the US Grant Hotel, just across the street from the UT office. As it turned out, the best vantage point for me was on the roof of the newspaper building, almost directly across from the guy. By the time I got set up on the roof with a tripod and telephoto lens, there were several people talking to the guy. Lee Grant is a reporter from the Union, the hairy guy second from the left. Frank Saldana, fourth from the left talked to him for quite a while until this fireman crawled out on the ledge with him. As I recall, the fireman talked to him for a while until he came close enough for several folks to grab him and pull him to safety. The sad part is that all the while there were people on the street yelling "jump, jump." They must lead some pretty sad lives.

What a Babe!

Charlie Chimp goes to the Dentist

What a fun story!

Deadly Robbery

I covered a robbery at a mini mart one night. The clerk had been killed and the cops had sealed the place and would not let anyone in to take pictures. As I was standing around the parking lot, I noticed this security mirror and got this photo. It ran in the paper and also went out on the wire service.

???

Ooookay. I have no idea what this photo represents. It is Robin Maydeck, a Tribune reporter, perhaps doing her Bonnie Parker imitation. I must be doing a version of Sonny Bono. It is in the old photo lab on 2nd Ave and the gun looks very real, as does the 1970s flowered tie.

Civil Disturbances in the 70s

John Price writes:
I remember hearing about the time John Greensmith was looking for a reported uprising in Southeast SD. This was during the days when riots and violent demonstrations were fairly common in LA but had not become de rigueur in SD. As I remember the story, it was while he was on the car radio asking for better directions to where the disturbance was reported to be, that he came up over a hill somewhere around Imperial Avenue and found himself smack in the middle of a wall to wall convocation of Black Panthers, Symbionese Liberation Army supporters and other assorted groups blocking the entire street. One can only imagine what they must have thought as a tall, bald, white guy calmly drove a red and white UT photo car into their midst. I recall what John said HE thought, and which he allowed he may have impulsively expressed over the radio in spite of FCC regulations. He also managed to burn two black stripes on the pavement, going backwards up the hill and getting out of there before the crowd had a chance to take care of Whitey, (a term of endearment used by the angry black community at the time and which would probably be called the "W word" in our enlightened culture today) And that is a remarkable thing to do in a Corvair!


Jack Reber replied:
John: I hate to pass up a good story, but I think I will skip this one. I'm concerned there will be people asking why he turned tail. He was looking for these groups, and he found them, and so the question arises as to why he didn't park his car, get out and start taking photos.
I remember John very well. For some reason, he and I seemed to work together a lot. He was a great person to be around as well as a heck of a photographer. Just a good friend.

John Price writes:

Valid questions Jack.

You are probably right about not including the story. It was a different time then and we have hopefully moved past that kind of thing. That story raises no question of John's judgement or professionalism. It was a lighthearted look at what could have been a very serious situation. It literally could have been a matter of survival when he unexpectedly found himself isolated in very hostile circumstances. There was, and is, no doubt in my mind that if he had stopped he could have easily landed in the next day's police reports, having had the living crap beat out of him ...or worse... by a mob. I am sure John regrouped and covered whatever happened in the professional way he always did. It was simply not very wise for a street photographer to get very far ahead of the police or National Guard lines in that kind of situation. If you remember, those were not gentle times with nice folks out for a little diversion in the sun. They were times when angry "militants" were frequently looking for blood. Any one or any thing connected to "the establishment" was a prime target for destruction and the Copley name was a flag-bearer for The Establishment.

I found myself in that position a time or two and it was frightening. Once was in Horton Plaza, just across the street from 919. The place was jammed by several thousand demonstrators of every kind, there for any number of reasons. Every policeman the department could put on the street was in full riot gear, with standard helmets and face shields, and lined up at both ends of the plaza. I suddenly found myself isolated in the midst of the crowd... near the fountain... in my sport coat, clean shirt and tie... and was jammed up against a large biker-hippie type (I know that is a non-sequitur, bikers hated hippies!) who was definitely not wearing a suit or carrying a briefcase. He said something like: "You better get out of here NOW, Whitey! We are going to bust somebody up because of what the cops did to Willie last night and if you are still here when we do, I will smash that damn camera over your head."

I got my pictures and nobody got beat up... that I know of, but I was right to have taken the threat very seriously.

Unrelated, but similar, was the time Jerry Windle and I were covering a Rolling Stones concert from the outside. There had been a huge number of counterfeit tickets sold and hundreds of fans, many with legitimate tickets, were turned away once the Sports Arena was filled. They were unhappy. The fans got rowdy and started throwing rocks. The police set up barricades and started arresting people. Jerry was in the thick of it when a big rock came flying out of the dark and smashed one of the cameras he had hanging around his neck. There were very real dangers on the street, and we rightfully took them very seriously.