On being a photo-journalist

As a semi-professional wanna-be concert photographer, Ive often wondered about being a photo journalist.  Its one thing to be a blogger, and quite amateurish one at that, but taking it to the next level is quite another.  Ive always enjoyed writing short stories and putting a journal together but I only write when the mood strikes.  Even when I kept a journal/diary, I was never one to write a daily entry.  And I love to read.  The things is, I often find I can write better than a lot of bloggers out there, not to toot my own horn, mind you.  And in all honesty, Ive seen a lot of terrible photos that people have praised!  But I digress.

Last year, August 18, 2016.  My wife wanted to attend her flamenco teachers’ private performance at a local restaurant.  It was scheduled to close down for a few hours while she performed in front of about 25 invited attendees.  We were part of that group.  We had arranged taking a few photos of her performance, mostly for my portfolio but would also send a few to her teacher.  I had arranged my schedule at work so that I could leave early and meet my wife at the restaurant and in doing so, I would have to catch an earlier train into the city.

I was into watching a television series on Amazon Prime which served to remove the boredom out of the morning commute.  I had my headphones in and got lost in the program when the train began to slow down and eventually came to a halt.  I didnt think anything of it since its not uncommon to have signal problems.  I heard the trains PA “ding” in order to get your attention but I figured it was just the conductor stating our being delayed, once again, for signal issues.

There was a disturbance in the force!

At first I didnt think anything of it.  The usual suspects just eyed each other, what I expected to be the “here we go again!” comments.  The train then shut down and the lights went out.  The “ding” sounded again and this time I pulled out my earbuds.  I didnt catch what was said on the PA but I noticed confusion by the other passengers.  Just then the conductor came by and she informed us that there had been an “unauthorized” passenger on the tracks and that they were hit by the train.  It didnt sink in immediately.  My wife had told me a few stories of how she had been on her morning commute and someone decided to end their life that day.  But I never thought it would happen to me!  She decided to take the day off and was going to catch a later train to meet me in the city.  Lucky!  The conductor informed us that we didnt have to exit the train but it was strongly recommended.  She continued to say that the train was indeed shut down and the AC was not going to be in operation and that it could get a bit warm.  The train was now going to be subject of investigation and would take a few hours before being released.

It still hadnt sunk in that our exact train was the one that hit John Adamo, a financial advisor at Merril Lynch.  As we exited the train on to the Mineola platform I noticed several folks, mostly women, visibly upset and shielding their eyes.  As I looked up the tracks I could see yellow plastic blankets laid about the tracks.  “DING”!  It finally occurred to me, it was my train that ran him over.  It also occurred to me that I had my good camera with me, but something in me just didnt sit right.  I saw a perfect opportunity to break out my camera and get some real life drama shots but I couldnt do it.  I felt like an intruder.  I was in the midst of chaos and I didnt want to record it.  There were too many raw emotions and I didnt want to invade that vulnerable aspect of any exposed individual.  I also felt that it was a bit disrespectable to poor John Adamo.  What kind of morning was he having?  What finally drove him to the brink to end his life like that?  Of course you really dont want to think that someone actually just committed suicide only to leave their remains scattered amongst the tracks in full view for others to ingest.  And of course you dont want to think that someone was evil enough to push someone in front of an on-coming express train that wasnt scheduled to stop. What about all those people that were there, standing on the platform awaiting their train to start their work day?  Were there any screams?  By the looks of the scattered remains, it was over quite quick.  Sorry John Adamo.  Sorry you couldnt find another way out.

I called in to my supervisor as soon as I learned what was happening and what was going to happen with the delayed trains.  I explained what had happened and that there would be another train along within the hour but wouldnt be there in time for that mornings’ meetings.  I was asked if I was ok and that I could go home if I wanted.  I was befuddled and a bit confused but didnt feel that warranted me going home.  I called my colleague and told him of the situation and that he should probably get in to the office at his earliest convenience to cover those meetings for me.  Once I settled myself, my curiosity got the better of me but not so much to take out my good camera but enough to snap a few pics with my phone.  Although by this time, there were several guys with photo credentials and a news reporter on the scene.  I briefly chatted with one gentleman who had his phone out taking a few photos.  I didnt see it at first, but then, the curiosity got the better of me, I started looking for remnants of the body.  There were scattered fragments of human tissue from point of impact right down to the butt of where the train sat.  Most fragments were too small to be covered and by the time I got to the platform, CSI agents were already picking those pieces up and putting them into a red bio-hazard bag.  Soon, both sides of the tracks were cautioned off and the platform was closed and barricaded.  I crossed over to the other side where we were told that a city bound train would be there shortly and would transport those of us that still wanted to go to the city.

My wife has been taking that train into the city for the past 25 years.  In that time she has had maybe 2 instances of an individual who felt they were at the end of their rope.  I had only been in Long Island for 4 years! I think I can go another 10-15 years without experiencing that again.