Street Talk: the big news that weren’t

The other day stallion photographer Russ Dillingham and I went for a run, separately, towards a reported building collapse in Auburn.

“Build collapse! Went the counselor. “People trapped! Humanity! “

Russ took one road to the action, I took another, crawling through traffic in suburban hours and cursing under my breath every inch of the way.

Russ, who’s been working on this beat since the moment Moses left the Red Sea (and I think he’s cheating somehow), got on the scene first.

“Not much to see,” he said. “A couple of firefighters on the roof. No ambulances, so I doubt anyone is injured. AFD compensation.

I limped to the scene moments later and found much the same. Nothing to see here, man, move it, okay?

The area was rocked by a thunderstorm at the time and I was on my motorbike. I was back home, about to step out of my wet clothes when another call came in.

“Structure fire on Main Street in Lewiston!” Went this one. “Chapter 11 is on fire!

We set off, driving towards Main Street through the creepy, creepy traffic that always seems to move a bit slower when the news gets hot.

Much slower, really.

I was almost at the scene, breathless and short of swear words, when the firefighters radioed that there was no fire. A little smoke, sure, but it had nothing to do with Chapter 11. It wasn’t much, when you put it right in. All of the firefighters were evacuated except for a few who were left behind to sniff out the source of the smoke.

Nothing to see here, in other words. Come on, okay?

I was back home, about to step out of my soaked clothes – mushrooms were blooming in my socks at the time – when a call came in.

“House on fire in Auburn!” according to this one. “Man desperately trying to fight the flames with a pressure washer!”

You know the chorus. I rushed into the rainy afternoon, already composing in my head what would surely be a winning Pulitzer story about a man valiantly trying to fight the ancient power of fire using only the commonly used equipment. found at Harbor Freight for around $ 400.

It would be fascinating. It would showcase the grim determination of a man standing up to the world’s oldest force. It would be powerful. Inspiring.

And short. The story would be really very short.

“The fire is out,” said a firefighter, even before I stepped out of my driveway. “We are wiping. “

Make no mistake, angry writer. When things like fires turn out to be nothing much at all, I’m happy. If no building was on fire for the rest of my life, I would be as happy as anyone.

It’s just that there are days when it’s one tight call after another and if you’re a reporter somehow that means running around town in to and fro. – frantic shots.

Adrenaline rushes are unreal. One moment it feels like the highest peaks of the Himalayas in your adrenal system (anywhere) and the next your back drops below emotional sea level, drenched with nothing but mold to show. in your shorts.

There are days when we just run from one potential disaster to another, all day from morning to night, and yet at the end of the day our notebooks are bare and the diary looks meager.

“Geesh,” a fool will say as he flips through the newspaper the next morning (there are still people doing that, you know). “What have you been doing, nap all day?” Didn’t find anything to write about, Johnny Layabout? Well, in my day, a reporter would pound the pavement until he had seven articles filed. Uphill, in both directions!

On that storm day and night, it was one not-so-big thing after another crackling on the scanner – and that’s despite the fact that we can’t hear the police chatter anymore. Wrecks of cars that looked horrible on first reports, but turned out to be battered fenders and shattered mirrors. Reported hells that were actually pots of burnt macaroni and cheese on the stove. An attack by alien warships that turned out to be swamp gas.

I might be taking liberties with the latter, but you get the idea. Some days on the beat of the news are all sizzling and no steak. Lime and salt but no tequila. All hat and no cattle.

But there are days when all the news is true. Fires really do start and people are burnt out of their homes – or worse. The car accidents are monstrously serious and the victims must be extracted from the wreckage and rushed to hospitals. Buildings collapse, people fall into rivers, bullets fly and it seems anything that can go wrong there goes wrong with abandonment.

On those days you WISH to be back on false alarms and grossly exaggerated reports.

So when those days come – when you run like a fool for nothing while mushrooms are growing in your basic clothes – you will whine and moan about it, but in the end you will think of it as free adrenaline at no cost. real. No spilled blood, no broken bones, no burnt ruins.

It’s the swell. And once you get used to it, these mushrooms are pretty nice.

But I’m afraid I said too much.

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