San Diego Fires

Photo by John Gibbons, UT
Photo by Charlie Neuman, UT



For the past week, there have been devastating fires in San Diego. Over 500,000 people were evacuated and 1500 homes were destroyed. The 919 Gang was offline for a week as Jack Reber was unable to go to his home in Ramona. His, and all the others that I have heard of from the 919 gang, homes were safe. I sent him this message today:

I was very glad to see you came out of the fires relatively unscathed, Jack. I covered several of those nasty things for the UT and understand how devastating they can be. I happened to be in SD a couple of years ago when they tried to burn Tierra Santa etc, and got a good reminder of why they call them "wild fires" My wife's cousin lives south of Mission Valley and had houses all around him burn but the fire chose not to come up his canyon.

Is there anything that 'outsiders' can do to help? Perhaps a 919er or someone in Ramona you know of who needs ??? Or after things calm down a bit, there might be someone, older or widowed etc. There are a myriad little things that get forgotten in a disaster. I have had two brothers lose their homes to fires and I understand a bit about that. I suspect there are a lot of folks in this group who would be glad to help if they knew who or where or how.

My son Nathan and our Spanish exchange student Javier and I went to Hawaii several months after hurricane Iniki blasted through Kauai in 1992. It is the worst recorded storm in the islands and there were lots of folks who had no insurance or assistance and were living in temporary digs, even tents. Others had their roofs blown away and were living under huge blue tarps that covered their houses, while they tried to gather enough money to start repairs. We were able to join one of the work gangs for a week or so. The gangs were simply neighbors helping neighbors to start the re-building process when there was no more help coming from outside. We helped take off damaged roofs, tore an unsalvageable building down, helped clear the debris. It was not all hard work though. There were other neighbors who brought incredible Hawaiian food around for the crews! They were simply trying to give each other a little breathing room as they figured how to start their lives over.

Nathan, Javier and I also helped an old kamaaina Hawaiian named Tony Wong put a new roof on his house after his insurance company went bankrupt. Tony had gotten shingles somewhere but had no money to pay anyone to put them up. He was too old to climb the ladders or help shingle, but he easily made up for it by telling us non-stop stories about his life on the island while we worked. What a great experience for my son and me... and Tony's new red roof was the pride of Kekaha Road... even if the shingle lines are a bit wavy.

Email from Jerry Windle:

John,
You been gone longer than I but I kind of missed being in the thick of the wildfires this time around now that I are retired. Last time in 2003, I worked non-stop for several days. One lab tech was sick and the other had been evacuated so I worked 10-12 hour days. Even though I was not out there on the lines, I was in the newsroom downloading digital photos and placing them in the archive system and folders so the editors could easily find them. I enjoyed sitting there and listening to all the bickering going on behind me.

I never got into the politics of the newsroom. When they combined the papers in 1992, I got "reclassified" taking an $8,000 loss per year in income so I was bitter for several years and finally realized there was more to life than the UT so I went in did my job and that was it. Usually did a lot of personal work as well - that is once the company work was done.

Kind of like an old race horse, I wanted to be back in the fray of things again.

My reply:

Hey Jerry.... Yeah, I miss it. Its the old firehorse thing I suppose. I watched the fires on TV and found myself thinking... if I were on that little ridge right there, I could get SUCH a picture of that fire snake running up the other canyon!!! It was so much fun back then, how could we not get all nervous and twitchy? But I am also realistic. I would never want to go back, even if I could. I remember the politics and the stress... ok, spell that BS... and the long boring stuff with those three ladies and that stupid piece of paper... But the rest sure was fun wassnit?

Truth and Telephoto lenses

Ah, the dreaded Wide Angle Telephoto lens!!! How did I manage to forget that one? I recall many a cold winter evening, gathered about the pot bellied stove in the photo lab, the lively philosophical discussions as we delved into the mysteries of light and photography... images and editors. Truth and telephoto lenses. Who would not long for the day....

As I recall, it was Al Sund who stirred the congregation up over the Truth in Telephoto issue. The position that most of us took, picture editors included was: “the longer the lens, the more compression of the image.” Thus the editorial objection to Windle’s street scene taken with a telephoto lens and where all the signs and power poles looked as if they were so close they were rubbing together. The photo editor determined the telephoto lens had rendered Truth altered and the photo would not be appropriate to run. Al’s position remained that it was not the lens at all, but simply the position of the camera in relation to the subject. Further, it was not distorting the truth, but representing it exactly as it appeared. That is, Al contended, if you are a given distance from a given subject, the “ distance compression” will be exactly the same, regardless of the focal length of the lens you use to view it. He even went so far as to say that it would actually look the same to your eyes without any additional lens. The reaction was immediate and passionate... mine included.... “Friend Sund, thou speakest heresy I say, HERESY! Everyone knows it is the lens that compresses the apparent distance between objects! How about looking through binoculars? Huh? The lenses compress everything together. Any fool can see that.” At least we were right about the ‘fool’ part.

As a converted disciple of Al Sund, I went out and took these photos today. They are taken with a 28mm wide angle and a 210mm, mild telephoto from the same position. Yep, the compression and distortion in the telephoto is obvious. The train cars are in reality about 60 feet long and about 8 feet high, say an 8:1 ratio and they look like that... close to the camera... in the 28 mm photo. In the telephoto picture, the distant cars appear to be (quoting Pogo) squeened down and squeened together so that now they look shorter than they are tall, a less than 1:1 ratio. The billboards, which are really alongside the freeway, look like they overhang the train cars. And check out the impossible curve of the road. Yup, it is all distorted. And that nasty distortion, obviously because of that darned old telephoto lens, is what the photo editor objected to .

In the search for truth, I now offer the third picture... which is actually just a cropped and enlarged section of the 28mm photo. As you can see, when the objects are the same size in the photo, and still same distance from the lens, whether the wide angle or telephoto , they are virtually identical! Brothers and Sisters, we have found the elusive Wide Angle Telephoto!

Well, ok, the resolution, clarity, detail are obviously much worse in the 28mm pic when it is enlarged... soooo, does that make the wide angle shot the worse offender in the Truth Altered category? I can tell you that is how they appeared to my eyes but I wear glasses, so maybe I can't see what is truth?

At least, Al Sund was right about telephoto lenses.

I enjoyed Jerry Windle’s reprise of various camera memories from the old days. I never did carry a Yashicamat for the paper, although I did own one. I bought it from the AP staffer after I sold my own Rolleiflex to buy a sub-miniature Tessina from Stan Griffin. Several of the photogs had Rolleis at the time but then Stan bought the petite and delicate Mamiyaflex as the camera du jour for the whole staff!!! That was a twin lens monster! They were bigger and heavier than a Remington standard typewriter and had interchangeable lenses the size of two sewer pipes. They did make good negatives though.

I used my shiny new Mamiyaflex C33 the time I was assigned to shoot Governor Reagan (in the photographic sense) when he was running for president. The Copley power structure had made arrangements for me to ease past all the security and get an exclusive photo at the event. The press corps was sequestered on a little patio outside someone’s La Jolla mansion and were told there would be no photos!. When the moment arrived, I was whisked into a parlor where Regan and a couple of the Republican faithful, one was a judge as I recall, were to pose exclusively for me... well, OK... for the Copley Press. I lined everyone up in a ‘natural’ pose and prepared to take the photos. I was convinced that each would undoubtedly be worthy of the Pullet Surprise. I pushed on the shutter... and nothing happened! That will get your attention! “OK, once more now....” Nothing! The shutter lever on my new camera would not move and I could not take the picture. By the third effort, I was developing a serious aneurism and the Governor cum President was getting more than a bit peeved as he stood with his best campaign smile pasted on, glaring at me and waiting! Panic was infusing my fevered brain when I noticed the safety-interlock lever on the side of the camera. It was a little knob that prevented the film from being exposed while the lenses were off. It also locked the shutter when engaged and it was doing its job admirably on this occasion! I don’t recall ever hearing such a sweet sound as when that shutter clunked the way it was supposed to. I got a magnificent photo of the three dignitaries and slunk off into the night to nurse my seriously battered ego.

Another time I used Phil McMahan’s Leica. Now THAT was a camera you could learn to love. I recall that Beverly Beyette was doing an investigative piece that turned into a series on nursing homes for the elderly. Beverly was pretending to be looking for a home for her aged mother and I was her ne’er do well brother, I think. I was supposed to get photos without anyone knowing what we were doing. I know this sounds like it came right out of an old James Cagney movie “The Picture Snatcher” , but I borrowed Phil’s Leica, hung it around my neck under my shirt with just the lens sticking out between the buttons. I could then move my ultra-wide, psychedelic tie aside (remember those?) and take pictures. The plan worked. Beverly would talk to the nursing home person about taking care of dear old Mother, to keep them busy, and I would try to wander aimlessly off to get the photos. The Leica was compact and so quiet you couldn’t hear the shutter if you were standing next to me. I took several by just turning away from the person. We got dramatic photos of conditions inside some pretty nasty “care” facilities. The paper ran the series and later, Copley Press published it in a booklet. As I recall, there was a major shakeup in the requirements and oversight of California care facilities as a result.

JOE STONE, REPORTER

I have always liked this picture. It is of Joe Stone, a metro reporter on assignment, as he thoughtfully writes down his impressions of the spring wildflower bloom out on the desert of Borrego Springs. Thats the kind of story some crusty reporters would consider beneath them. Joe was a good newsman and I think this photo proves it. Joe's brother was Milburne Stone who played Doc for many years on the classic tv series Gunsmoke.

U-T HELICOPTER 09NOVEMBER

Photo taken from the UT helicopter 09N. I loved flying in that bird with a crusty pilot named, of course, Pappy. You can see the door is off and one of the blurred rotors in the sky and my knee, bottom center.

BETTY PEACH-TSCHIRGI writes:
You mentioned a need for fresh subjects from the 919 Gang. This may have been covered previously, but I do not recall reading memories of the Copley Chopper that was parked at Lindbergh Field, and was on call for the Tribune city desk. The helicopter could be at the paper's pad in less than 10 minutes.
The landing pad was reached via the lunch room and big open deck added above the Tribune's annex building, if memory serves.
It was always such fun to get to the pad in time to watch the noisy beast approach from the direction of the Grant Hotel diagonally across the Land Title Building, and hover inches above the pad. A photographer and I waited at the foot of a half dozen stairs until the helicopter door opened, our signal to dash up the steps, crouching low to keep the head out of the path of whirling blades.
Liftoff was immediate, the nose tipping forward to pick up speed. the sensation of diving into the pavement was a shot of adrenaline every time. The pilot must have startled people on the street, for he didn't level off until the last second.
When we had a small machine, I always sat in the middle so the photographer had the window seat. Sometimes the door was removed to give the photog wider view. Sturdy seat belts recommended.
One assignment I remember especially because of its rarity: unusually heavy rains had flooded all the streams in the county and had washed out the approaches of the Santa Fe railroad bridge south of Oceanside.
The adjacent highway bridge floor was under water, so it was closed on both ends.
San Diego was essentially cut off from the rest of the world ... no rail, no road ... ah, but the wonderful helicopter came to the rescue. We left the office about 9 a.m., flew directly to the target flood, and returned to 919 Second Ave., in time to have photos splashed all over page 1 of the home edition.
All hail the power of the whirlybird!

My comments added:

Thanks Betty for jogging those helicopter memories. I loved flying in it too. It was an early Bell helicopter, the kind with an open tail boom and a huge plexiglas fishbowl bubble to sit in up front. You REALLY got the sensation of flying. I remember its radio call sign was Zero-Nine-November... niner, if you wanted to be really cool. I remember the pilot was a crusty old aviator called Pappy, what else? I never did know his last name and can't imagine why I would I want to. My favorite part was also the take off from the UT roof pad. Pappy would lift it up enough to clear the railing on the pad, then tip forward and swoop out over Second Ave, past the unforgiving building that towered above us on the right...was that the Spreckles Bldg?, and skim the parking lot and the UT garage on the corner to the left as he climbed. He seemed to think it desirable to get above all the buildings and power lines that surrounded 919.

What a lovely way to travel!

And Betty, I well remember that you always took the center seat so the photog could ride shotgun. I know that was a sacrifice, since you are a pilot yourself, and I always thought it was a class thing for you to do.

IN DEFENSE OF CORVAIRS

I well remember the red and white Corvairs that we had as “photo cars” or “camera cars”. In their defense, they really weren’t bad little cars. I think even Ralph Nader later admitted he gave them a bit of a bad rap with some questionable engineering criticism about the handling. I owned one for a number of years. (I enjoyed it, even though the threads were stripped in one spark plug hole and it had the quirky habit of popping the hot sparkplug out of the aluminum head where it would dangle by its wire while the engine made a loud chuffing noise until I could get it shut off. I kept a pair of pliers in the car to thread it back in and we would be soon on our way.)

Back to handling... I quickly found out that if you pushed the car into a corner, the back end might well come around and meet you on the way out. But once you learned to anticipate all that weight in the back, it was really a pretty nice handling car and you could do some fancy two-wheel drifts in tight curves and come out of the turn looking like you knew what you were doing. Of course, I would never have done that in a UT car! I have owned a couple of Porsches as well, and there ain’t that much difference in the way you drive the two although the Porsche is much better balanced and refined with its small 4-cylinder engine than the heavier Corvair pancake six ever thought of being, of course.

I would have to vote a thumbs down on the white Ford Mavericks that followed the Corvairs, and Stan didn’t keep the Fords too long. I liked the red and white Chevy Novas which replaced them. They were full size cars and much more comfy, even those basic models with few amenities. I think they actually had an AM radio. After that came the Pinto station wagons which were all white with blue lettering on the doors as I recall.

Like Thane, I almost burned one of the Mavericks up covering a wild fire, somewhere around Poway. I had parked the car on a road overlooking a little arroyo with the fire on the far side. All the windows were opened in the 100 plus degree heat and wind. I left the driver’s door open and walked up the hill to get some shots of a fire crew working where the road ended. As I was shooting my pictures, I looked back and was stunned to see the fire had come around the back side of the hill behind us and was licking up to where the lonely Maverick was sitting. Fires can be very nasty things if they can sneak up behind you. I managed an explosive comment that seemed appropriate at the time, and made a dash for the car just as a single gust of wind whooshed the flames momentarily in through the open window on one side and out the open door on the other. It didn’t do any damage other than leaving a bunch of hot ashes on the front seat, so I jumped in the car with the intent of getting my backsides out of there with a maximum of haste and a minimum of bodily damage. By the time I got turned around, the fire crew was in their truck right behind me and I enthusiastically led the little bumper to bumper parade down the mountain in my stalwart little UT photo car as fast as the fire truck could push me.

UNION TRIBUNE PHOTO CARS

Chuck Boyd and a U-T Corvair

JERRY WINDLE writes:

PHOTO CARS -- I came to the U-T in August, 1967, this was just after the photo was taken that Thane mentioned with the photo guys posed around and standing on a camera car -- at the time a Corvair. I loved driving the Corvair, especially coming south on Hwy 163 and making the turn onto Fourth Ave, nice long curve and that little Corvair hugged the corner. I didn't know any better.
Someone mentioned photogs left their gear at the paper, and this was true. Eventually we had some 40+ photogs and only 8-9 cars. we'd have to come to work, get a job, sign out a car and when we returned, put the keys back on a hook. Naturally, we soon learned which cars were better than others and there was always competition trying to get the better ones. Later we discovered the keys would actually work more than one car. We'd get a key, walk all the way down to the cars only to discover the car we signed out was gone!
Not having our equipment at home with us came home when Caliente burned down. The late Ted Winfield lived in Chula Vista and had to go downtown to get his gear and a car and head back south to Tijuana. I was the next one in and didn't get there until 9-10 a.m., and it was still burning!
The cars had a roof rack so photogs could stand on top of the car, if necessary for a better point of view. Later cars proved unworthy and a few roofs got a little bent from this practice, much to the chagrin of management.
There is a photo of Jerry Rife sitting on top of a Corvair, I believe, with water up to the windows down on Market street, I think after a big rain.
Thane/Chuck was also correct in that there was an "undercover" car, again a white Corvair. Of course it stuck out like a sore thumb, and we always felt we'd be better off in the red and white car with U-T emblazened on it. Kay Jarvis and I went into Logan Heights with one once and the choke cable fell off. Thought we'd never get back. It was a piece of junk - they all were.
I am of the belief that the late Stan Griffin was responsible for the red and white color scheme with the big lightning bolt on the side and U-T "radio dispatched" cars on the side.
As mentioned, we eventually got Ford Pintos. We never had a say in what cars the paper got. In fact, I believe Thane actually sent a memo to the powers that be that he felt they were unsafe and he wanted to be on record in case something happened. Don't know if this was an urban legend or not, but the photogs admired Thane for standing up to management.
Here's a legend regarding the photo cars which IS true. The photog shall remain nameless. He went downtown on an assignment and parked in one of the Ace lots. When he came back, the car was GONE! It had been STOLEN! Of course, we all wondered who would steal such a piece of junk. Anyway, after a few weeks, we get a phone call from Ace asking if we were ever going to get our car!! Seems the photog forgot where he had parked and assumed the car had been stolen. To this day he swears it was stolen and parked in another nearby lot.
Nowadays photogs have a car assigned to them and have their gear in there with them. They have pagers and cell phones and still can never be found when needed! Ain't like the old days when we reported at our shift start time and went from there. Of course in those days we all swore it would be great to have our own company car.

JR: I should point out that Jerry is a car expert, in my opinion, although if memory serves, his main interest is in Fords. I remember someone telling me once that Jerry's wife didn't even know how many cars he owned, that he had some "hidden." Of course, in Ramona, no one hides cars. They are parked in the front yard, side yard, back yard, etc. The fellow down the road from me has eight vehicles of one kind or another on his property. Not a one of them less than 10 years old, and I assume half of them don't run -- at least they haven't moved in years.