Newspapering - it's all in a day's work
Friday was one of those days diehard newspaper people live for.
As a diehard newspaperman, I should know.
My day started at 6:30 a.m. when the phone rang.
"What time do you get out of bed," a voice says from the other end.
"Not 6:30 a.m.!" I reply through a fog.
"There's a bad accident out at the end of King Street," the voice says.
"I'll get my camera," I reply and stumble from my rack, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
I get there about seven.
Bad's not the word.
There's debris spread up and down the highway for about 200 feet. It looked like a plane had crashed. But it wasn't a plane.
It was a small gray hatchback, or what used to be one, cause the whole back end is strewn up and down the highway and the rest is crushed in.
I talk to some officers on the scene.
"Where's the other vehicle?" I ask.
One points down the highway about a hundred feet into a small patch of woods, where a green 2004 GMC Tahoe SUV is lodged firmly in some bushes.
I utter a word I try not to use around elderly women or preachers.
"Yep," he said, nodding.
The SUV is in remarkably good shape considering it had cut through the back end of a car like a hot knife through butter, smashed though two or three sizable concrete barricades, had spent a fair amount of time in the air and found a place to rest in some trees.
The driver walked away. He was drunk.
The other guy, sober, had to be cut out of what used to be his car with the Jaws-of-Life. He wasn't walking anywhere. SUV guy was arrested and taken to jail. Hatchback guy was taken to hospital. City works mopped up.
I grab a coffee, a big one, and head to the office. Scan the morning papers. Election talk. Yawn.
Some housekeeping at the office and then off to court.
Fella charged with assault causing bodily harm on a four year old boy. Crown objects to his release, bail hearing set for Monday. Next case.
Trial of a man charged with assault causing bodily harm, uttering death threats and breach of an undertaking follows. By noon he's found guilty of all three charges. Sentencing Sept. 29.
Call the office. Head back over.
Scanner says there's a fire at the old cement manufacturing plant on Highway 11.
Twenty minutes later I'm there to take over from reporter pal Gail Savoy and Global News is there. News at six. Scooped.
I utter a word I try not to use in the presence of elderly ladies and preachers. Turns out Global was in town to take one last kick at interviewing Tanker Malley before the election when they saw the fire and called 911.
I spend the better part of an hour getting shots of firefighters fighting fires. Turns out the better part of them are here in Miramichi for a weekend training exercise. Nothing like on-the-job training to learn fast. I did it myself.
At 7 p.m. I meet up with David Adams Richards at the bookstore in Newcastle where he's releasing his new novel. We chat for a bit and the day is done by eight.
I lean back and look around for the first time all day.
What's for breakfast?
As a diehard newspaperman, I should know.
My day started at 6:30 a.m. when the phone rang.
"What time do you get out of bed," a voice says from the other end.
"Not 6:30 a.m.!" I reply through a fog.
"There's a bad accident out at the end of King Street," the voice says.
"I'll get my camera," I reply and stumble from my rack, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
I get there about seven.
Bad's not the word.
There's debris spread up and down the highway for about 200 feet. It looked like a plane had crashed. But it wasn't a plane.
It was a small gray hatchback, or what used to be one, cause the whole back end is strewn up and down the highway and the rest is crushed in.
I talk to some officers on the scene.
"Where's the other vehicle?" I ask.
One points down the highway about a hundred feet into a small patch of woods, where a green 2004 GMC Tahoe SUV is lodged firmly in some bushes.
I utter a word I try not to use around elderly women or preachers.
"Yep," he said, nodding.
The SUV is in remarkably good shape considering it had cut through the back end of a car like a hot knife through butter, smashed though two or three sizable concrete barricades, had spent a fair amount of time in the air and found a place to rest in some trees.
The driver walked away. He was drunk.
The other guy, sober, had to be cut out of what used to be his car with the Jaws-of-Life. He wasn't walking anywhere. SUV guy was arrested and taken to jail. Hatchback guy was taken to hospital. City works mopped up.
I grab a coffee, a big one, and head to the office. Scan the morning papers. Election talk. Yawn.
Some housekeeping at the office and then off to court.
Fella charged with assault causing bodily harm on a four year old boy. Crown objects to his release, bail hearing set for Monday. Next case.
Trial of a man charged with assault causing bodily harm, uttering death threats and breach of an undertaking follows. By noon he's found guilty of all three charges. Sentencing Sept. 29.
Call the office. Head back over.
Scanner says there's a fire at the old cement manufacturing plant on Highway 11.
Twenty minutes later I'm there to take over from reporter pal Gail Savoy and Global News is there. News at six. Scooped.
I utter a word I try not to use in the presence of elderly ladies and preachers. Turns out Global was in town to take one last kick at interviewing Tanker Malley before the election when they saw the fire and called 911.
I spend the better part of an hour getting shots of firefighters fighting fires. Turns out the better part of them are here in Miramichi for a weekend training exercise. Nothing like on-the-job training to learn fast. I did it myself.
At 7 p.m. I meet up with David Adams Richards at the bookstore in Newcastle where he's releasing his new novel. We chat for a bit and the day is done by eight.
I lean back and look around for the first time all day.
What's for breakfast?
posted by Street Wise Guy | 3:35 PM
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