No need for speed or police: Cop-free cruiser scares speeders

The empty cruiser is located at the entrance of a pier on the Indian River along U.S. 1, near Pineda Causeway.

FLORIDA TODAY is doing its annual "Speed Patrol" in which reporters and photographers shoot drivers first with a radar gun, then with a camera if the speeding infraction is egregious enough.

That got me thinking about a police car I see every day while driving to work. For as long as I've been a Florida resident, a police cruiser has sat empty in a rest area along U.S. 1, near Pineda Causeway. It's located on a corner, so by the time drivers see it, it would be too late: If they are speeding, they'll surely be caught.

But because the cruiser is unmanned, it does nothing more than cause a moment of panic, then sweat running down the driver's forehead, then pure elation when the car doesn't pull out to chase the driver for doing 40 mph over the speed limit.

But the Brevard County Sheriff's Office has gotten a bit sneaky. Occasionally, deputies will plant themselves a half-mile down the road from the empty cruiser. So, thinking they're in the clear, people speed up after passing the empty car, then they see the manned vehicles.

Uh oh.

I'm a sucker, though: I tend to speed by the first cruiser, knowing it's a phony, then go a bit too fast past the real ones, too. It's only a matter of time before they get me. I suspect the sheriff's office is aware of this and has caught many speeders who think they are sailing smoothly, unwatched.

So be careful out there, Brevardians. And slow down whenever you see a police car - even if it's empty.

Reuters blogger suggests newspaper movie for a sure bad time

Here's what the back cover of the "-30" VHS says, in part: "In -30-, newshounds race against the clock to fill the empty pages with stories that will become as much a part of America's morning as a cup of coffee. (Jack) Webb leads the way, playing a night editor of a big-city paper. ... From 3 PM till midnight, they'll ride the adrenaline rush of dramas that shape the world and their own lives. Come next day, they'll gladly do it again. -30-"

Update: The New York Times bloggers have linked to this account. Go here for their post.

Bob Basler, blogger over at Reuter's Oddly Enough, noticed my post about "-30-," the former sign-off code for wire copy. He sent me an e-mail, which first thanked me for linking to his blog of "news, but not the serious kind."

"I enjoy your blog, though it's a little depressing to see -30- described as an 'old-fashion journalism tool,'" said Basler, left. "I don't dispute the description at all, but it's still depressing."

Basler has been with Reuters for about 30 years and was around when wire services actually used the code. It seems that young journalists are hardly aware of it. Fortunately, I care about history.

In a follow-up message, Basler made a suggestion.

"Some evening you should get really drunk and watch the worst newspaper movie ever, a Jack Webb drama called - 30 -," Basler said. "He plays the managing editor, if you can imagine."

Excluding the drinking portion, I decided to follow through with his recommendation. But where to find such an obscure film?

Of course, Amazon came through. For $6.63 plus $4.98 shipping and handling ($11.61), the "almost new" VHS was mine. Fortunately, I still have a VCR.

It's 97 minutes, in black and white and was released in 1959.

The film's action is confined to the newsroom. From 3 p.m. to midnight, editors bicker, laugh and cry in the process of trying to get the paper to press. They subsist on cigars, cigarettes and coffee, and derive entertainment from yelling at copy boys. "Boyyyyyaaa," the editors shout to get their attention.

It's a slow night at first: It's raining, and the best possibility for the lede photo is of a young hotty, whose likeness is peddled by a journalist-turned-modeling-agent who left newspapers for a better-paying job. The model is played by 1959's Miss Arkansas, Donna Sue Needham. The movie doesn't say whether the photo made the cut.

When a story about a missing 3-year-old girl breaks, that's when the central conflict of personal versus professional life revs into action.

The plot attempts to romanticize the world of editors, which is a tall task. To achieve that, "-30" weaves an external plot line into the journalistic action. Webb, who plays managing night editor Sam Gatlin, deflects his wife's wish to adopt a child. He's afraid he'll become too attached to the boy, just as he has become too attached to the story of the missing girl.

Interspersed with the central conflict are several typical newsroom quirks. Here are a few:

• Complaints about the shift. "I've been feeling sorry for myself, because working nights, I have to miss some of those real good TV comedy shows," one editor says.
• Inter-newsroom romance. "There isn't a man on this newspaper who could have gotten halfway to first base with me," stenographer Lady Wilson says.
• A slow news day. "Anything interesting on the wires?" Gatlin asks the wire editor. "If you think the national spelling bee in Philadelphia is interesting," the visor-wearing wire editor says.
• Distractions in the newsroom. The film periodically cuts to Carl Thompson, who is taking a couple on a tour of the building. One tour stop is in the art department, where an "artist" complains that all he does is retouch photos instead of doing real art.
  
• Propensity to put animals on the front page, specifically whooping cranes. "Do you know how many letters we got on the last story on them?" Gatlin says when his staff objects to the photo. "I do know that not one of them buys a paper," metro editor Jim Bathgate says about the birds.
• Annoying callers. A reader known only as Mrs. Burgess calls to ask about the crossword puzzle. "I do not know what 51 down is, and I am not being suspiciously evasive," Gatlin says. Later on, Mrs. Burgess calls the wire editor to get the phone number of the puzzle editor. Then, toward the end, she calls again. This time, Bathgate answers. "The word is concur," Bathgate says as Gatlin overhears, seemingly surprised that Bathgate knows the answer. "Yes. C-O-N-C-U-R. Concur."
• Humbleness. "We're not heroes in this business," Bathgate says. "We just write about the heroes."
• Arrogance, when Gatlin talks about whether God exists. "What would be so tough about being a power that’s greater than we are?" he says.
• An odd character, which reminds me of a FLORIDA TODAY co-worker. Bathgate is obsessed with keeping track of a certain actress and has a copy boy give him hourly updates. "She had creamed tuna fish for supper, then her boyfriend came over and gave her a pedicure," the copy boy says.

Those elements of newsroom life are intertwined with the main plot: the missing girl. A new star metro reporter finds out that the child fell into an uncovered storm drain during a bad rainstorm. Gatlin decides to run a 16-column, double-truck photo of the drain.

Gatlin's concern for the missing girl stems from the loss of his own wife and child in a car accident. With his current wife, the question of whether to adopt a boy weighs on him, along with the fear that the missing girl has died.

The serious plot line is lightened by the cheesy, sort of Hawaiian music, which includes bongo drums. It's a stretch considering where the story is set: Los Angeles. And the film hardly lives up to the print on the front cover of the VHS: "Moment by moment the suspense builds headline-high to a new peak of motion picture excitement!"

I won't divulge the ending in case you want to seek this film out for yourself, though I can say it's pretty cliche.

But Bob Basler was right. "-30" is the worst newspaper movie ever, or at least, it's the worst I have seen.

To best critique this film, I'll quote a Nov. 12, 1959 New York Times review: "Mr. Webb has used for his title the traditional newsman's sign-off symbol. But his picture, crammed with so much smart-alec nonsense, is rarely as authentic."

Blogger's note: Basler also is the proprietor of The Good, the Bad & the Ugly, where we journalists "hang out our dirty laundry, debate the language, showcase reader criticism of our coverage," Basler said.

-30-

Video: Smokin' ACES: An overview of my time in Denver

I shot this video using my Canon point-and-shoot digital camera, so again, the quality of sound and picture just isn't there. At least I finally mastered video exporting in Final Cut. My videos can only get better after this.

I used Viddler for this one because it allows larger files than YouTube. But if you want to see the YouTube version, go here.

Oh, and if I knew how to change that stupid look on the preview frame, I would.

Video: You can almost feel the burn at Viera wildfire

I edited this quickly in Final Cut Express, so it's not awesome. I can't for the life of me figure out how to export a Quicktime file without overly compressing it or not compressing it enough. This file is only about 6 megabytes, so the quality isn't awesome.

But at least it shows a little of the scene of the fire this morning.

Update: I boosted the quality and uploaded the video to Viddler, instead of YouTube.

Fire threatens homes in Viera, but firefighters come up big; the real casualty of the blaze? palm trees

Firefighters spray water at the fire, above, and at the trees on someone's lawn, below.

Update: My employer linked to my Floridatoday.com blog from the home page. The Offlede is going mainstream. Uh oh. They also made a photo gallery with my shots.


When I got out of work around 1 a.m., I heard that a fire had burned 60 acres in Viera. It sounded like a good photo op, so I set out to chase down some flashy lights and orange glows.

Driving along Murrell Road, I saw several TV crews doing pretty little standups with the orange sky silhouetting the homes in the distance. So I knew Murrell Road wasn't where the real action was. As usual, the TV guys were miles from the scene. They dared not get their feet wet.

So, I found my way to Starling Way, a little street in a large subdivision with expansive, expensive homes. The fire was burning the pines, palms and palmettos just feet from the buildings. Poor trees.

Then, I got my feet wet. A sprinkler came on as I walked by one house. It soaked my pants, my socks and my shoes.

But I didn't care. I snapped photos like crazy and forgot about it. The heat from the fire dried my clothes anyway.

A group of about 10 youngish-looking individuals were watching the flames behind the homes. Some said they live in the area. Others were the residents' friends who just came to watch a good show.

But apparently, someone forgot the marshmallows. Or do they just not do that here in Florida? Does anybody know about s'mores?

The firefighters stood around and watched as the flames shot 30 feet into the air. They occasionally soaked a tree on someone's lawn or the screening around several of the homes' covered patios. Luckily, the wind was blowing the fire away from the homes and into land that had already burned: It had nowhere to go.

The fire burned southward behind the homes lining Starling Way. It probably burned 400 yards in the few hours I was there.

When it reached a pond, the men stood between the blaze and the marshy area. They spritzed it a few times with their mighty hose. A large stand of palms and palmettos crackled into flames. It reminded me of that bonfire I went to a few years ago when the Red Sox won the World Series.

But that was all. Around 3:15 a.m., there were only small flames, and the firefighters were ready to ship out.

The owner of the house closest to where the fire stopped was grateful.

"I'm so glad it didn't go any farther," he said. "We have a beautiful view of the pond, and I wouldn't want the fire to ruin it."

"Thank you, guys," he said to the firefighters.

"Oh, no problem," one firefighter said. "That was easy."

I took 858 photos, or 1.73 gigabytes of disk space on my new Mac. Looks like an external hard drive is in my future. I'll post video later. I should get sleep first, though.

My first shot when I arrived. This is where I started to get my feet wet.

A couple of concerned residents near one of the more modest homes of the neighborhood. The flames were only feet away, but the wind was blowing them away from the homes.

People, including myself, got close enough to roast a few marshmallows. It was quite safe because of the wind.

One of the younger residents climbed onto his roof to snap a photo. He probably got better shots up there than I did on earth.

One of the less modest homes here. Just after I shot this, the flame flared up two houses down the street, threatening a house. These people scattered when that happened.

Firefighters hosed down the screens of this house's patio area.

Viera = hell?

Nope. Not hell. Firefighters don't go there. Viera, you're off the hook.

The fire brought together a bunch of teens from the neighborhood. Some good, clean Thursday night entertainment! I was talking with a homeowner in the area, and she asked what caused the fire. I didn't know, and then one of these guys said that teens had set the recent brush fires in Brevard County. He said he had no part in any of them, though.

I think the teens had more fun taking photos of the fire than I did. This one used his cell phone.

The burning carcass of a palm tree. RIP. ... Not.

This was the firefighters' last stand. Once this palm was dead, it was done. Good night.