Jakarta-Bound

Right about now my old pal Suzanne Plunkett is flying out for Jakarta. Bon Voyage, Suzanne. Suzanne is a excellent news shooter who is leaving her staff AP spot in New York to join the AP crew in Indonesia. Keep an eye our for her amazing pictures.

Bon Voyage

My beautiful friend Angela and her pal Monique are off to India tonight. Girls, enjoy your adventure in Delhi, Agra, Nepal and Sikkim. Take plenty of pretty pictures (you can't miss in that amazing part of the world) and we'll be waiting for the postcards.

Last Call in Kabul

The Afghan capital's only bar has closed after warnings that it could be the target of a terror attack.

The Irish Club, which served only foreigners in a conservative country where sale of alcohol to the predominately Muslim population is banned, opened on March 17, St Patrick's Day. It did a roaring trade among expatriate aid workers, diplomats and journalists.

A sad, little obit for a pub so young.

News of the Old Disptach Crew

In 1989, instead of going to college, I landed a staff job as a photographer on The Hudson Dispatch in Union City, New Jersey. It was a gutsy little daily broadsheet that thought itself a tabloid. We had to have a big black screaming headline across page one each morning: Hoboken Horror!, Turnpike Terror!

The pay was poor but the education rich. It was a hell of a place to learn how to be a reporter or a street news photographer. Hudson County had no shortage of fires, accidents, murders and politicians with their hands in the till. I am still grateful that chief photographer Don Smith took at chance on me, a 19-year-old kid from the Shore with a couple of beat-up Nikons.

Smith and I are still great friends. We even ran with the bulls together in 1999 when Don was 63. My best friend and former Dispatch reporter Dave Reilly was there in the narrow Pamplona street with us too.

The Dispatch folded in April 1991 but many great friendships from those days stay strong. And even though many from the last Dispatch crew have gone their own ways, we stay in touch.

This morning we received great news from Robyn Ryan (former Robyn Pforr).

Robyn and her husband Dennis wrote: We are overjoyed to announce that baby Finn Patrick Ryan has arrived.

Congratulations Robyn and Dennis on the birth of wee baby Finn Patrick. And what a fine Irish name!

And congratulations to my best mate Dave Reilly and his lovely wife Dawn as they celebrate their first wedding anniversary in Italy this coming weekend.

Holy Holes!

My old pal Pete Donohue (with some help from other News staffers) has "The Wood" in today's Daily News with a tale of a New York spring tradition: Potholes.

There are so many potholes around town that drivers are griping about bumpy rides, popped tires and bent rims. There's even a tale about an ice-cream truck being trapped in a nearly 3-foot-wide, 5-foot-deep crater in Queens.

Sunday Papers

Easter Sunday is nearly finished and I have hardly made my way through the Sunday papers. It was a busy relaxed day of Mass (the church didn't fall in on me as my mother predicted), a massive supper at the homestead and looking at 37 rolls of film from the sister's wedding. All good stuff.

At least I had a chance to scan the Sunday NY Times. Some times that only takes five minutes and that's enough. Nothing jumps out and screams "read me." But today there was plenty to sink your teeth into and ponder.

Peter Maass' chilling, human story of "Good Kills" in the magazine is a must read for anyone who ever had a thought about war.

As the war in Iraq is debated and turned into history, the emphasis will be on the role of technology -- precision bombing, cruise missiles, decapitation strikes. That was what was new. But there was another side to the war, and it was the one that most of the fighting men and women in Iraq experienced, even if it wasn't what Americans watching at home saw: raw military might, humans killing humans.

Maass has an amazing skill for writing about war as a human event. If you haven't read his book about the wars in the Balkans, you need to pick up "Love Thy Neighbor."

The Times also ran a "Witnesses to War" feature from Times staffers who covered recent events in and around Iraq. One of the witnesses is my old pal Tyler Hicks and he put a few words together about his experiences to go with his amazing photographs. He was in Baghdad for the entire time.

Another old pal, Getty Images staffer Mario Tama, had a full-page cover photo on the front of the Newark Star-Ledger's special war section today. Old pal Spencer Platt, also of Getty, had a few fine shots in that as well.

Though still sad and thinking about the journalists killed covering this war, it is good to see friends well and doing some damn good work.

Journalism Major Seeks Summer Internship

Patrick Lowney, my youngest brother and a journalism major at the University of Rhode Island, is seeking a summer internship. If anyone is looking for a summer intern in journalism or hears of any such opening, please let me know. A million thanks.

Research About "Typical" Journalist

Just found this odd little piece of research on yahoo news.

NEW ORLEANS -- The typical U.S. journalist is a 41-year-old white man who makes $43,600, has a college degree but didn't major in journalism, and is more likely to vote Democratic than Republican, according to "The American Journalist in the 21st Century."

I believe the story came from Editor & Publisher but I can't seem to reach their site. But there is more "landmark research into the backgrounds of American journalists" from Indiana University. Funny, it seems that I don't know that many "typical" journalists.

The Military's Other "Shooters"

The Baltimore Sun has a nice feature about Combat Camera and their ups and downs in Iraq.

The men and women of Combat Camera land in war zones with a 9 mm Beretta pistol and 60 pounds of camera gear. They are photographers in uniform, surveying battlefields, POW camps and humanitarian missions through the lens of a camera.

A Pint in Kabul

The first Irish bar has opened in Kabul. In the new, post-Taliban Afghanistan, The Irish Club is the country's only bar and it only serves foreigners.

There are Afghan staff, of course, but they've all been given Irish names -- Kevin, Jimmy, Michael, George -- "to protect them from possible retaliation."

Posted by Jim at 11:15 AM

Busy & Well

As my old pal Amy wrote, spring has finally sprung in New York--even in Jersey City--and it has just been too damn nice to be inside blogging. That don't pay the bills either.

Life got good and busy, too. Or maybe just a little better than last week. The good, simple things were easy to take notice of and enjoy: Dinner with the sister and new brother-in-law looking happy and relaxed only after arriving back from their honeymoon. Breakfast at home with the folks down the Jersey Shore Saturday morning and the kitchen table busy with eggs, bagels, coffee, tea and a half dozen newspapers and a dozen opinions from three people. Discovering a cool little neighborhood bar in Downtown Jersey City Saturday night with fair drink prices, cool heads enjoying and theme party nights. Saturday's theme at The White Star was "Catholic School Girl" night. If the ladies wore the uniform, drinks were only a dollar each for them all night. It was some sight unknowingly walking into the jumping joint jammed with twenty-five gals in short plaid skirts and pigtails as the Clash blasted through the smoky air. First glance at the bar was almost as brilliant as the end of the night with four “school girls” and the owner, "Father Paul" in white collar, dancing on the bar to Barry White.

Then Sunday morning came too soon. But it was a beautiful, sunny day even though you could never again buy a New York City subway token. But coffee and the Daily News were enough on the D train as I made my way to a birthday party at the American Museum of Natural History. The smart and beautiful Alina, daughter of Eve and Brad, was celebrating her forth birthday in style, and with some very cool old bones that used to walk the earth. Wonderful, educational bash and the birthday girl truly enjoyed.

After a train downtown and a train under the Hudson, it was time to open the bar in Hoboken. I was lucky enough to be pulling the Sunday night shift at The Quiet Woman, covering for Big John. It was a pleasant, rather slow night with the front door open for spring air and the regulars were as brilliant as always. As were the new souls who discovered a new Sunday night hangout—like the tired, lost soul from St. Louis who is working on Spider-Man II in the city.

Then after two in the a.m., when the chairs were up and the money done, the phone call came. A fire was raging just a few blocks away and not everyone got out in time.

The smoke hit the back of the throat the moment I walked out of the bar. It wasn’t leaves or paper or tires burning. You could smell it was a home in flames.

The four blocks to the fire went quick, and the camera was ready half-way there. Thick smoke hung low to the ground three blocks away and there was an evil red glow in the middle of the 500 block of Madison Street. Around the fire trucks and over the charged hose lines I went to a front stoop dead opposite the burning building that you could see was destroyed already. The fire started in a faulty stove on the second floor and quickly spread though the old, short building. By five a.m. it would mostly be a shell of bricks, and the bodies of a 79-year-old mother and her 51-year-old son would have been removed from the charred third floor not long before.

I made my pictures before some rookie cops not used to power forced me from my spot. But there was enough in the camera and time to go home.

Monday morning was sunny again, and that almost seemed odd and I hadn’t enjoyed much sleep. But I was up and out by half nine and down to the lab. By eleven I had negatives that looked decent. I called the Times. They wanted to have a look.

The fire picture made page D7 of the Times’ Metro section Tuesday. My first domestic picture in the Times ever. Felt brilliant rifling through the paper first thing in the morning to see how I did. Not too bad at all.

That was Tuesday morning on Madison Ave and by Tuesday evening I was watching a pink and orange sunset over the Barnegat Bay as a full moon was rising over the Atlantic. The salty air of the Jersey Shore on a warm spring evening was only refreshing, putting a true smile on the face. Summer, and more good things, felt near.

Rev. Al Misses Meeting with young Journalists

The AP reports:

WASHINGTON - Democratic presidential candidate Al Sharpton missed a scheduled appearance with young minority journalists Friday under puzzling and yet-to-be explained circumstances.

The Rev. Al can't seem to figure out what airline he flies.

It wasn't the steak

Wire reports say that diet guru Dr. Robert C. Atkins is in a coma and on life support after falling on an icy sidewalk. It wasn't the lack of carbs...

Drunk of the Month

Maybe some of you folks have seen Modern Drunkard Magazine before but this is news to me. Thanks to my old pal Mike Gilbert from County Kerry for the heads-up. And their "Drunk of the Month" feature is loaded with wisdom.

From this month's top drunk:

You got twenty bucks: Two bottles of Everclear and a bottle of Liquid Smoke. That combination is called a Black Angus, and it was invented by my pal The Crayfish. If you need training wheels, you can bite into a wedge of medium-rare sirloin burger.

and:

Why we must drink: Because I don’t like going home with money in my pocket. When I wake up in the afternoon and find big wads of cash in my pants, man, I just want to beat the hell out of myself. I mean, really.

Posted by Jim at 01:09 PM

Falling Images

There is something amazing about watching U.S. Marines pull down a statue of Saddam in Baghdad live on tv. The images are so similar to those of falling Stalins in Central and Eastern Europe not too long ago, and just as powerful.

Moments after the statue came crashing down, I couldn't help but wonder what will the Iraqi people erect in place of these old Saddams. Maybe nothing. Perhaps life and progress will take care of such things.

In 1996, my old pal Zoltan Scrivener and I were on road trip in the Republic of Georgia. As we were about to enter the town of Gori, the birthplace of Stalin, we were a bit nervous and very curious. Then we busted our guts laughing as the first sign greeted us on the edge of town. It read: Coca-Cola.

Journalists KIA in Iraq

The AP lists the journalists killed covering the war in Iraq.

_ Tareq Ayyoub, Jordanian journalist for Al-Jazeera, Qatar, April 8, at the Al-Jazeera office in Baghdad

_ Jose Couso, cameraman for Spanish television network Telecinco. April 8, at the Palestine hotel in Baghdad.

_ Kaveh Golestan, Iranian freelance cameraman for the BBC, northern Iraq, April 2

_ Michael Kelly, editor-at-large, The Atlantic Monthly, U.S.A., April 3, near Baghdad

_ Christian Liebig, journalist for Focus weekly, Germany, April 7, south of Baghdad

_ Terry Lloyd, correspondent for Independent Television News, Britain, March 22, southern Iraq

_ Paul Moran, freelance cameraman for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, March 22, northern Iraq

_ Kamaran Abdurazaq Muhamed, a Kurdish translator working with the BBC, April 6, northern Iraq

_ Julio Anguita Parrado, reporter for El Mundo, Spain, April 7, south of Baghdad

_ Taras Protsyuk, a Ukrainian television cameraman for Reuters, April 8, at the Palestine hotel in Baghdad

In other deaths, disappearances:

_ Two other Independent Television News journalists, cameraman Fred Nerac of France and translator Hussein Osman of Lebanon, have also been missing since the shooting incident March 22 in southern Iraq in which Terry Lloyd was killed.

_ Reporter David Bloom of NBC News died April 6 from an apparent blood clot while covering the war south of Baghdad.

_ Gaby Rado, a correspondent for Channel 4 News, Britain, died March 30 after apparently falling from a hotel roof in northern Iraq.

_ Marcin Firlej, a reporter for the Polish TVN24 news channel, and Jacek Kaczmarek of Polish state radio were abducted by unidentified men Monday but called in Tuesday to report they had escaped.

Posted by Jim at 01:23 PM

Three Journalists Killed in Baghdad

In two separate incidents, US attacks on the Iraqi capital killed three television journalists from Al-Jazeera, Reuters and Telecinco.

Posted by Jim at 01:17 PM

A Thousand Words & More

Columnist Mike Barnicle has some kind words about still news photographers covering the war in Iraq.

I love newspaper photographers. Many of them are kind of crazy and have an eye for news that some desk-bound editors never quite manage to acquire. A good photographer will do almost anything for the shot. They willingly risk life and limb to capture an angle or moment that brings a story to life in a way that words often miss.

Two Polish Journalists Abducted in Iraq

WARSAW, Poland - Armed Iraqis abducted two Polish reporters at a checkpoint some 80 miles south of Baghdad on Monday, their editors said.

Posted by Jim at 12:40 PM

Two G.I.s, Two Reporters Killed in Rocket Attack

SADDAM INTERN4ATIONAL AIRPORT (AFP) - Two US soldiers and two journalists were killed in a rocket attack on a US military army position south of Baghdad, a US army major said.

Posted by Jim at 12:37 PM

Mob Boss Vincent Gigante Takes it on "The Chin"

NEW YORK - Vincent "The Chin" Gigante, the powerful mafia boss who authorities said feigned insanity for decades in an attempt to avoid prosecution, ended the ruse Monday by admitting he misled doctors evaluating him.

Posted by Jim at 12:23 PM

Enough Already

The snow is swirling madly and falling fast here on April 7th. The annoying tv weather guy says the Jersey City area will be getting 4-8 inches. Beautiful. I'd rather be watching the Yankees' home opener but that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Greetings from Iraq

My old pal Mario Tama just dropped me a line from the Iraqi desert. He and old pal Spencer Platt, both Getty Images shooters, sound fine about living in Umm Qasar on the outskirts of a Marine base. And they haven't lost their humor either. Mario writes:

I'm here with Spence sleeping and eating in the dirt of the Iraqi desert. We literally live like homeless dogs scrounging through trash looking for food and stealing people's water. Somehow it's kinda fun, we've found an Iraqi fixer who has procured some fine Iraq booze which so far has only caused temporary blindness.

At least I think that was supposed to be humorous. Sorry I can't add any more of his letter here, but this is a family blog.

Where There's No Smoke

At midnight last Saturday, bars around New York City became smoke free, more or less. Since I was down the Jersey Shore smoking and drinking while celebrating at the sister's wedding, I didn't give the smoking ban any thought.

Sure, I read about it and even enjoyed pieces like the Irish Echo's account of the clock striking midnight and the butts being snuffed out.

"I just saw them gathering up the ashtrays," one ashen-faced man croaked at about 11:45 p.m., sucking on a cigarette in Rocky Sullivan's.

The Mexican bar back Sergio Hernande went from bar to table and back again, collecting ash trays with an impish grin on his face and stowing them behind the bar.

Smokers looked around at each other nervously. Was it really happening? they seemed to ask with their eyes. When midnight struck, was everyone really going to stop smoking?

It was enough stress to make you reach for another Marlboro.

Then two nights ago, after a busy afternoon of Manhattan sightseeing with the relations from England, I found myself thirsty for a pint and ended up in McFadden's at 42nd and Second. McFadden's used to be a grand old Irish bar for old Daily News staffers when the News was still in the old News building on 42nd Street. These days I don't care for the after work suits and the little women with big pints of Bass in their tiny hands. But still the bar is fine enough for a refreshment.

The drink was grand and doing its job. But soon enough I felt the urge for a wee smoke. I freed myself of the blasted things for three months last year but have had no joy quitting this year. Maybe Monday.

In any event, looking down the long bar at McFadden's and not seeing the white air was only sad. When I give up the fecking fags for good, I still want to walk in and see, feel and smell the romance of an old smoky Manhattan bar. The clean and healthy scene simply felt wrong. And since I still smoke, it was uncomfortable as well. Just couldn't relax.

After visiting another Irish joint on Third Ave, with smokers puffing fast and bitching outside the front door in the cool evening air, I retreated home to Jersey City. And I hate to say it, but it felt brilliant and bloody liberating to sit at a Jersey bar, order a bottle of Bud and light up a Marlboro red without drama.

It should be interesting to see how all this works out when the ash settles. Bars are looking for loopholes. Then lawmakers with close them. It will probably be months or more until we truly know what bars are smoker-friendly in New York City.

Until then, and until I quit the fecking cancer sticks, I think I will say on the Jersey side of the Hudson when going out for a pint. Here you relax with a cigarette and your drink in a bar. And the drinks are cheaper on this side of the river as well.

Gangs of New York

From this morning's New York Post:

National Guard troops protecting New York's transportation hubs are on the lookout for Bloods and Crips street-gang members allegedly planning to steal troopers' M-16 assault rifles as part of a bizarre initiation rite.

Posted by Jim at 07:35 AM

Oregon Bill Calls Protesters Terrorists

PORTLAND, Oregon (Reuters) - An Oregon anti-terrorism bill would jail street-blocking protesters for at least 25 years in a thinly veiled effort to discourage anti-war demonstrations, critics say.

Dubbed Senate Bill 742, it identifies a terrorist as a person who "plans or participates in an act that is intended, by at least one of its participants, to disrupt" business, transportation, schools, government, or free assembly.

The bill's few public supporters say police need stronger laws to break up protests that have created havoc in cities like Portland, where thousands of people have marched and demonstrated against war in Iraq since last fall.

Two Cops Shot, One "Actor" Dead

In Jersey City cops don't call suspects "perps." They call them "actors." And last night a robbery turned into a couple of shootouts leaving two cops and a victim wounded and one actor dead. Guess this copspeak wouldn't work for the LAPD.

There was a lot of cop bullets flying in Joisey yesterday. Earlier in the day, a state trooper critically wounded a driver who struck the cop with his Mercedes.

HAPPY

I am so happy about hearing Moises and Matt from Newsday are safe!

Molly Bingham, a freelance photographer from Louisville, and a Danish freelance photographer, Johan Rydeng Spanner are with them in Jordan and are doing fine as well.

Missing Journalists Alive and Well

From Newsday:

Newsday journalists Matthew McAllester and Moises Saman, who had been missing in Iraq since last week, crossed the border into Jordan today and said they were safe and in good health.

Posted by Jim at 02:07 PM

Smoke 'em if you got 'em

Jarheads in Iraq are rationing their smokes and chew.