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Palm
Beach County's Election Hangover
Stories and Photos by CHARLES McKENZIE & DOUG WHITE
Special to Poynter.org
AS
FOX TV NEWS REPORTER Orlando Salinas prepared to
go live in front of the Palm Beach County Courthouse, a handful
of quiet protesters lined up behind him. He checked his earpiece,
straightened his jacket, and looked up.
His
first few words came out with little competition, but then
something changed. The protestors saw a familiar image on
the FOX monitor: themselves. In one nanosecond, people who
had lived their whole lives in relative obscurity burst onto
the national political scene.
The
small quiet group suddenly exploded, sprouting layers of jockeying
signs and erupting into a medley of chants: "Gore Got
More." ... "Bush won twice."
Hearing
the commotion, dozens of people -- old, young, black, white,
Republicans, Democrats, and interested gawkers -- raced to
fill the frame, knowing that the world was watching as election
and party officials meticulously analyzed Palm Beach County
ballots.
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Click here for the slideshow.
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A
Journalism Reunion
By
CHARLES McKENZIE and DOUG WHITE
Special to Poynter.org
As
younger journalists they pursued scoops, shelter and
safety while covering wars across the globe.
But this weekend, Palm Beach County was a world away
from Nicaragua, Kosovo and Iraq. Instead of dodging
bullets, the veterans found themselves sidestepping
miniature donkeys and stroller-pushing protesters. As
the lunacy unfolded outside the Palm Beach County Courthouse
some old friends were reunited.
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JUST
AS QUICKLY AS THE CRUSH OF PEOPLE
had begun, it was over. Before Salinas could remove his
sports coat, the once-again-silent crowd had reconvened in
front of another news crew.
While
the ballot recount story is an unprecedented one, the chaos
outside the South Florida courthouse last weekend had a certain
familiarity for journalists. Many had covered the big stories,
the ones with first names: Elian, O.J., Monica. They arrived
in West Palm Beach well versed in the unrecorded science of
spectacle.
Journalists
knew where to go and how to compete. As a result, the scene
appeared at times to be more of a high-speed waltz than a
media frenzy.
Early
in the story, news crews staked their
claim
on
the sidewalks across from the courthouse. Crews used duct
tape to box off three- to six-foot sections. They then branded
the sidewalk with their station's call letters.
"Most
crews abide by it," said freelance cameraman Tony Long. The
tape is usually good for the entire story, so turf doesn't
need to be reclaimed every day. "But if things really start
shaking and you leave your square, people will pull up your
tape and move in."
Even
when inside of the courthouse, crews left tripods in the squares
outside.
Meanwhile,
print photographers wandered the periphery and occasionally
ventured into the mass of protesters. Some scaled walls, and
others took turns aboard the bases of light poles.
Associated
Press photographer Alan Diaz, who is best-known for his photograph
of the Elian Gonzalez raid, says he looks for crowd confrontation.
That means he had to immerse himself in the center of the
chaotic fray. "It's
adrenaline," Diaz said. "I love to see how passionate they
are. That's what democracy is all about."
Gabriel
Tait, a photojournalist from the Detroit Free Press,
said this particular story was difficult to tell visually.
"There are only so many pictures of rallies and ballot
counting to take," he said. "But I think we've done
an admirable job journalistically." Broadcast
reporters tried to do their best even when there was nothing
new to report. Salinas found himself on air every half hour.
"I
basically had to say, 'I really don't have anything new to
tell you,'" he said. He tried to summarize the story
for new viewers and review the most recent changes. To fill
time, he often asks his camera crew to pull back and pan the
crowd.
WHILE
SUCH LIVE SHOTS STIR EMOTION in the crowd,
several print photographers refused to shoot pictures of protesters
who were playing up to the cameras.
"I
don't think the feelings are manufactured, they are just heightened,"
said Deborah Sharp, USA Today's Florida correspondent.
Inside
the ballot examination room, the scene was more subdued and
cramped. A pool system was set up, and the media agreed that
the Palm Beach Post should supply all the print journalists
and photographers. This was because the Post was the hometown
daily newspaper in the city and because its attorney had fought
for access to the recount.
"They
were pretty agreeable," said Lannis Waters, the Post
photojournalist picked for Saturday's pool. He was also the
pool photographer during the William Kennedy Smith rape trial,
also held in West Palm Beach.
Eventually,
voting officials allowed revolving pool journalists, so the
Post created a sign-up sheet.
Because
their work will be turned over to competitors, pool journalists
are under the scrutiny of all their colleagues.
"It
is added pressure," Waters said. "I was happy they let us
rotate."
Amie
Parnes, of The New York Times, said she was also feeling
the intense pressure. The 23-year-old Miami bureau staffer
worked 17-hour days feeding information back to Times' reporters
Don Van Natta, Jr. and Rick Bragg.
"There
is no down time," she said. "I'm working every minute, talking
to more and more people. I've got to get it. Everything's
dependent on me getting information."
For
Jorge Bouza, a veteran sound technician, these types of scenes
always require balancing ambition with camaraderie.
"We're
very competitive, but we're chasing the same story in the
same place," he said. "It's hard to get an exclusive. If I
get one I'm not going to run in and tell everyone, but if
your pen runs out of ink, I'm going to help you."
New
York Post news columnist Steve Dunleavy agreed -- to a
point. "There are personal friendships, but there is
also high, high competition," he said.
The
job is tough, the hours are long, but in the end, most of
these journalists said they are glad to be documenting history.
As
Long put it, "You hate it when you're there, but you hate
it when you're not."
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