Tuesday, April 30, 2024

We're No. 1

 

          Good evening, 919 Gang. 

 

MICHELE DAVIS writes: 

An analysis of parking costs at 50 major U.S. airports found that San Diego International Airport has the highest daily rate for parking, according to a recently released study. 

The analysis from travel company Upgraded Points examined 50 of the nation’s busiest airports and each airport’s costs for parking both during long weekends and throughout 7-day weeks. Those figures were also compared to the costs of Uber rides from the center of the nearest city in order to determine which transportation method was more cost effective for travelers. 

 

            REBER: Every time I drive to the airport, I am amazed by the giant construction going on there. One of the new structures looks like it will be a parking garage. If the airport gets a giant increase in the number of parking spots available, is there a chance the cost will go down? 

            Michele’s post reminded me that the San Diego airport also can be noisy. When I returned to San Diego in 1964, we looked for an apartment somewhat close to downtown. An ad in the U-T offered an apartment for $40 a month, and we went to look at it. It was on the third floor, but the steps didn’t bother us. Just as we reached the third floor, a plane came in, headed for the airport. Talk about noise, we thought it was going to land on our building. Mary and I turned around, and we went down three flights of stairs rapidly. We wound up renting an apartment at First and Laurel for $50 a month. It was much quieter.  

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        REBER: Starting a new month, we wish Thomas Neumann a Happy Birthday on May 1.

Monday, April 29, 2024

Joe C. on offense

 

Good evening, 919 Gang. 

 

DAVID HASEMYER writes: 

OK now for a couple of my fav Joe Cantlupe stories triggered by Dana Wilkie’s mention of her recent contact with him. Joe was a master at throwing interview subjects off balance – in hilarious fashion. After Mark Sullivan left the U-T to pursue his writing career, Cantlupe and I constituted the paper’s I-Team throughout the 90s. One of our projects focused on highly paid professional athletes – especially football players – taking advantage of California’s workman’s comp program. The program was envisioned to help mostly blue-collar types injured on the job and unable to work. It was a financial safety net that provided a small stipend to help the injured workers make ends meet until they could get back on the job. But we discovered pro athletes, like Joe Montana, with salaries in the millions, who’d sustained on-field injuries and were collecting the few thousand dollars afforded through the program. There was no wrongdoing. The pro ball players were, indeed, injured doing their “jobs” while in California. But the optics were that of: “You’ve…Got…to…be…Kidding.” 

Many of the athletes had engaged attorney Ron Mix, a former San Diego Chargers offensive lineman who was enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. (That’s a big..a very Big Deal.) Attorney Mix would guide the injured athletes through the bureaucratic process of obtaining the state money. We arranged a morning interview with Mix at Perry’s, an iconic breakfast place in the Morena area where the walls were covered with pictures of the notables who’d passed through its doors. Mix’s picture was prominent among them. You get the idea…Mix was a wheel; and probably accustomed to being treated with deference by the media. Of course, Joe knew all about his background. But right after we sat down and ordered coffee; Joe made the remark in a naïve tinged statement/question to Mix “Didn’t you play football?”  The ire flushed red in Mix’s cheeks. He took off his Hall of Fame ring and tossed it across the Formica tabletop toward Joe. The hefty gold ring the size of a horse collar and studded with more diamonds than Queen Elizabeth’s tiara bounced and clattered across the table. “I’m in the fucking Hall of Fame,” a glowering Mix told Joe. 

Unperturbed, Joe took the ring and slid it back across the table. “Humm. That’s nice,” he told Mix. So, Joe had immediately put the offensive lineman on defense. Another moment of humorous Cantlupe bluster that still makes me chuckle is when we were about to write a story about a sergeant for SDPD who was under investigation by the Internal Affairs unit for allegedly using the back seat of his undercover police car to rendezvous with his mistress. Joe won the flip of the coin to see who would do the confrontational interview. On the phone with Cantlupe, the sergeant adamantly denied everything. Cantlupe persisted with questions mixed with specifics of the investigation we had learned from sources. The segreant wouldn’t budge. Cantlupe tried this question and that question; going so far as to name the woman involved in the alleged affair. Still nothing from the sergeant. Finally, Joe announced “We know it’s true and we have PICTURES to prove it.” I looked at Joe with an expression of “We do?”  Of course we didn’t. But the sergeant had no idea what we had. I had to walk away so the sergeant couldn’t hear my laughter. To the copper’s credit, he made no admissions. 

Finally, it is still with great pride that I credit Joe with crafting one of the most powerful sentences for a story that ever included my byline. It was the first in a series of stories exposing how police and prosecutors corrupted the justice system to send five blameless gang members to prison in connection with the murder of a young San Diego police officer. The series exposed unbelievable flaws in the way the case was investigated, connected the dots between a critical witness and his half-brother, a cop; questioned dubious evidence and revealed the outrageous special treatment accorded other gang members who turned witnesses for the prosecution. It took months for Cantlupe and I to stitch it all together. But when we did, it resulted in the series “Pursuit of Justice.”  The nut graf sentence crafted by Cantlupe summing up the depraved official corruption that haunted an investigation deadest on sending the innocent to prison read: “Along the way, in the pursuit of justice, officers withheld information, lied under oath and contradicted each other in a case that reflected a breakdown in departmental procedures.” That sentence still gives me pause today. Ultimately the convictions were overturned by an appeals court that cited the years of our reporting and digging for the truth. That pretty much says it all about Joe: His career has been dedicated to digging for the truth. 

  


        REBER: I don’t want to say Tribune sports editor Harry Hache hated Ron Mix, but it was close to that. I don’t know how many times I heard Harry say, “Hey, Mix, how come you never get your uniform dirty?” I never understood Harry’s dislike for Mix. 

 

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        REBER: The birthday parade continues. Happy Birthday, April 30, to Larry Ross and Marcus Stern.

Sunday, April 28, 2024

AI trainers

 

        Good evening, 919 Gang. 

 

TOM GABLE writes: 

The Hill covers Colin Jost, the Saturday Night Live (SNL) star who headlined the annual White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner on Saturday night. Jost “roasted politicians and praised journalists…bringing humor at a time of political tension at home and deadly conflicts overseas.” 

          The story included digs at targets from both parties, plus RFK Jr. He closes with praise for journalists and a dash of irony: 

“In closing, I would really like to take a moment to recognize all the print journalists in this room,” Jost said. “Your words speak truth to power. Your words bring light to the darkness and most importantly, your words train the AI programs that will soon replace you.”  

 

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DANA WILKIE writes: 

Thanks to Dave Hasemyer. for posting the stories about himself, Joe Cantlupe. and Mark Sullivan. I was just in touch with Joe yesterday, as we were catching up. Love that guy, and love this kind of work 

 

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        REBER: I’m guessing this is the biggest birthday party of the year. Happy Birthday on April 29 to Bob Diveroli, Bill Osbourne, Sharon Reeves, Pauline Repard and Rose Wojnar. A lot of talent in that package.

Saturday, April 27, 2024

Boots on the ground

 

Good evening, 919 Gang. My favorite stories are the ones which tell about news people at work. We have two great ones tonight. 

 

DAVID HASEMYER writes: 

Mark Sullivan may be one of James Patterson’s favorite co-writers as Carl Larsen points out. But Sully was one of my favorite co-reporters. Mark and I formed the investigative team for The Tribune in the late 80s and later worked with Joe Cantlupe (another of my many favorite co-reporters) as the Union-Tribune’s first I-Team. Some of the most thrilling – harebrained - reporting moments came with Sully as a partner. A couple of instances remain vivid in my memory; and make me wistful for the days gone by. 

      First: At the Tribune, Mark and I were profiling a guy, dubbed Buzzard, who’d been charged in connection with a series of high-profile, sensational prostitute killings. The fear and intrigue gripped San Diego in the late 1980s much as the Green River Killer had earlier held the Pacific Northwest captive. Sully and I figured out that Mr. Buzzard, a very large biker, had roots in the Orange County area. So, we checked out a U-T Pinto and headed north one day; hitting the courts for public records, biker bars where the guy supposedly hung out, and other fun places you’d expect an alleged serial killer named Buzzard would haunt. We knocked on doors in neighborhoods where Buzzard once lived; doing the typical boots-on-the-ground kind of reporting. From the courts, we learned Buzzard had an uncle who lived in fashionable Anaheim Hills. It was near the end of a long day when we arrived at the affluent-appearing house; both of us exhausted. The garage was open with a guy inside puttering at a work bench. We introduced ourselves and explained we were profiling his nephew - the tattooed, 300-pound biker sitting in the San Diego clink with murder charges hanging over his headNeedless to say, we were an unwelcome intrusion on this guy’s otherwise placid day.   

      The uncle denied any relationship to Buzzard (and why not). Mark and I explained we knew he was the uncle based on court records. We politely persisted - our assertiveness tempered by fatigue – asking questions and making statements in hopes of provoking some kind of response. Finally, the guy reiterated he knew nothing of Buzzard; was certainly not related to any such cretin, and began explaining trespassing laws. He then started to close the garage door. Sully and I turned and began walking down the driveway. Suddenly, Mark froze. His body was rigid, his face red and fists clinched at his side. “No,” he said. Then he pivoted; he didn’t just turn, he pivoted. And walked back to the closing garage door. He grabbed the bottom of the door before it shut. And while trying to muscle the door back open was shouting under it “We know who you are. Talk to us.”   The door finally overpowered Mark and we left. 

      Another memorable caper – er, I mean reporting project – with Sullivan involved a series focused on the California funeral industry. It was the first investigative enterprise effort of the newly formed Union-Tribune I-Team that included Joe Cantlupe. One of the stories in the five-day series called “Death with Indignity” involved allegations of possible misconduct by a local crematorium. This was a story Mark and I teamed on. The primary allegation involved possible multiple cremations, an obvious violation of state law. 

       Supposedly the dirty work happened in the early morning hours out of sight of any prying eyes, except for Sullivan and Hasemyer’s. We’d done daylight recon on the facility and found that it was surrounded by open space covered in weeds. It could afford a little cover and a good look inside the crematorium if we could get close enough. But not in broad daylight. So, the observation had to be in the dead of night. It was decided Sully would take the lead. . . well because Sully had all sorts of cammo gear he used for hunting. He got all made up, including a cammo face mask, and in the middle of the night started belly crawling toward the crematorium across the field. I stayed on the road acting as look-out, kind of the Sundance Kid to Sully’s Butch Cassidy. All was going well…until Mark tripped the motion sensors and the field lit up like a night game at Petco Park. Oops. Mission aborted. We skedaddled. (I like the way skedaddled rolls off the tongue.)  We finally made the case the old fashioned, yet mundane, way of using various public records far from the bright lights. But what an incredibly, heady, memorable time it was. And I am proud to have worked with Sullivan and Cantlupe; and can now say I knew Mark Sullivan when. 

 


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ALAN MILLER writes: 

      Joan Kroc was a special lady who provided me with two very fond memories. She called to thank me for my signed piece that keelhauled Rush Limbaugh whose many sulfuric targets included her. In the course of a pleasant conversation I mentioned my son, Scott whose feature on her for the LA Times San Diego County edition had won a statewide honor. She was delighted and said that he had impressed her as a wonderful young man. 


Friday, April 26, 2024

God winks

 

Good evening, 919 Gang.  

 

CARL LARSEN writes: 

A friend of mine from church tells me “God is winking at you” as we discussed those unexplained, hard to believe coincidences that pop up in our lives. 

I’ve had two such winks in the past week aboard our cruise ship crossing a placid, smooth-as-silk North Atlantic from Florida to Holland. One surprisingly brought me back to the U-T newsroom. 

Setting the scene: You’d be hard pressed to find a library these days aboard a cruise ship, excepting Cunard ships and a few others. 

Our ship, the Rotterdam, has a pleasing library that is more about design than the books it offers, under a warning that some folks might find some titles offensive. 

I had a hard time finding anything, until Sharon handed me James T. Patterson’s “The Stories of My Life” autobiography, written in the heart of the pandemic. 

I’ll cut to the chase, written by Patterson, the world’s top-selling author. 

“I got infamous writing mysteries so here’s the big mystery plot for this book. How did a shy, introspective kid from a struggling upstate New York river town who didn’t have a lot of guidance or role models go on to become, at 38, CEO of the advertising agency J. Walter Thompson North America? How did this same person become the bestselling writer in the world? That’s just not possible. 

“But it happened,” he writes. “My grandmother preached early and often - hungry dogs run faster.” 

In his prolific writing career, non-fiction and fiction, Patterson has taken to co-writing books with prominent names  - ranging from Bill Clinton to … (drum roll, please) former U-T reporter Mark T. Sullivan, who has at least five collaborations with Patterson. 

Here’s the first wink. 

On paper, you could say that at one time I was Mark’s boss as metro editor, but I can recall very few direct interactions with him in the newsroom bureaucracy. That’s not to disparage his work. Since then, he has become an A-list author of mysteries and historical fiction. 

Here’s what Patterson says of Sullivan: “Mark Sullivan went to Hamilton College in upstate New York, just like my Dad and pal Tim Malloy. All that terrific education and Mark ends up writing suspense novels, like his huge bestseller ‘Beneath a Scarlet Sky.’ No wonder Mark is my favorite cowriter  (as Patterson says also of several others).” 

Sullivan on Patterson:  “Jim is always in favor of changes if the changes make the tale more terrific. He also forced me to be constantly aware of our characters and their private lives and the dramatic forces and emotional stakes in every scene. Jim can be withering in his criticism and effusive in his praise. He’s generous to a fault and you can’t get a better understanding or advice of the publishing business. Most of all, Jim’s made me a better storyteller and writer. What could be better than that?” 

Which made me think that if you edited Mark’s work at the U-T, you may want to stand up and take a bow. 

And, this just in. Mark’s latest book, “All the Glimmering Stars” is due for release May 7. Advance review: 

“Set amid the harrowing chaos of Joseph Kony’s cultlike regime and his abducted children turned soldiers, an extraordinary narrative of love and unwavering resilience emerges. The intertwined journey of Anthony Opoka and Florence Okori stands as a luminous symbol of hope. Their love becomes a refuge, a testament to the human spirit’s endurance.” 

Jamie Ford, New York Times bestselling author of The Many Daughters of Afong Moy 

My second wink aboard this ship? One night, the entertainers were Vox Fortura, a black quartet from the U.S. that got their start in the UK in 2016. 

In introducing themselves, one told the audience he was from Chicago, my hometown. 

           Seeing him later at a pier side restaurant, I introduced myself as a fellow Chicagoan and found out we were born in the same hospital.  

His name is Nathan Chester and if you watch “The Voice” on NBC you saw him move up in the competition earlier this week. 





 

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WALT BARANGER writes: 

 NPR’s $230 million bequest from Joan Kroc was covered in a Washington Post story last year. It has helped keep NPR afloat, but the other factors have largely offset the interest income from the endowment. 

        They don’t touch the $190 million principle, which is why NPR still needs other substantial income sources. 

‘Are you sitting down?’ The windfall that transformed NPR 20 years ago. 

In 2003, McDonald’s heiress Joan B. Kroc bequeathed more than $200 million to NPR. This is the impact of the record-breaking gift over the past 20 years.