Since spot news doesn't seem to follow a schedule both the police reporter and members of the photo staff may find themselves in the middle of some pretty interesting and intense stories while other members of the staff are saying "Pass me another piece of fruit cake."
Wednesday was one of those days.
After doing spending some time in front of my work station I asked the paper's managing editor if there was anything else he needed me to do (even though I didn't do much to that point), he said no and I headed out the door after writing my cell number in the book so that if something were to happen my number would be easily located.
About 90 minutes after I left the newsroom I got a call from our weekend editor to tell me about a house fire. It was kind of hard to understand what she was saying as she was suffering from a cold. I did manage to catch the two cross streets and the word fire from her virus-laden utterings.
I, hung up, grabbed my coat, and told my kids I had to go to a fire. Any more, they just nod and say "Okay Dad, see you later." My boys aren't easily impressed any more. They have been to so many assignments with me that most of the time they are happier to stay home.
As I was heading across town I could see the column of thick black smoke rising from the burning home. When this happens it is easier to get to the fire without having to look for a particular address and it also tells me I am missing some really good flames.
My days of driving to a fire like I was driving the fire truck are behind me now, but I still get frustrated when I feel like I am hitting every red light all the way to the scene. This time was no different. Most of the time when covering fires there isn't much to shoot other than wet ashes when I get out of my truck. That was what I thought I would be shooting at this fire. I jumped out of my truck, grabbed my camera and bag and headed toward the fire.
I have been on scenes like this so many times over the years that most of the police and fire personnel leave me to my job. Many of them have seen me at fires and crime scenes before and those who haven't don't say much as I look right at home in these situations. (Usually if you walk in like you own the place, most people will think you do.) At this fire my access was good and I went to work.
The light was fading and the fire was being attacked by an aerial truck. I figured there would be no more flames. There were two fire fighters standing near the house with a hose. They had been spraying the fire but stopped when the aerial truck started to attack the fire. Then there was a bit of a pause and the flames popped back up, but the fire fighters in front of me weren't moving. I shot a few photos of them standing there with the flames dancing on the roof of the house. It was good flame, but no action. I crossed my fingers and waited. Then they picked up their hose and directed a spray of water into the window of the home as the flames on the roof made another appearance. I got my photo and then made my way back to my truck to head back to the newsroom.
While driving back I heard one of the firefighters on the radio say that they would probably be there a while as the roof of the home was insulated with straw.
I mused to myself that had the house not burned it may have been blown down by a wolf!
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