The Grand Duke

I don’t mind telling people my weight. It’s 141,312 beans, give or take a bean or two. You’ll just have to convert beans to pounds to know for yourself.

 

 

I try to keep my eyes on the road as I drive about five miles down a winding, two lane road off I-40 in rural Tennessee. The road is barely big enough for two cars to pass, much less a car meeting a tractor trailer full of beans.

 

Those trucks are coming from the Bush Brothers and Company in Chestnut Hill, TN, and they’re hauling “Bush’s Best.”

 

Right across the street from the company’s plant is the original AJ Bush & Company general store from1897. It now serves as the Bush’s visitor center. A place where visitors can learn about the long history of the Bush family’s business and probably more information about beans than you ever wanted to know. You can even find out your weight in beans.

 

Besides the beans, the one thing most people associate with Bush’s has to be Duke, Jay Bush’s trusty companion. He’s probably more famous than the beans themselves.

 

Duke and his owner Jay star in a series of commercials that almost everybody with a TV is bound to of seen. But unbeknownst to Jay, Duke is scheming to sell the Bush family’s secret baked bean recipe. It’s like a never-ending cliffhanger of a story. “Will Jay discover Duke’s evil plot? Will Duke finally spill the beans on the family’s secret recipe for baked beans? Tune in tomorrow to find out.

 

You’d think after all the commercials they’ve done, Jay would have caught on to Duke’s secret plan by now. Guess I’ll just have to wait for the next commercial to find out.

 

 

 

 

 

Where Racing Lives

The man watches the action from behind a glass window, like an awestruck visitor at the zoo watching the playful antics of chimpanzees frolicking about. But this isn’t the zoo, it’s NASCAR Country! And this is the window into the NASCAR world. Or at least one that allows visitors to check out one of the working garages at Hendrick Motorsports in Concord, NC.

With Charlotte Motor Speedway down the street, NASCAR is a major player in the area’s economy. Teams like Roush Fenway, Hendrick Motorsports and Earnhardt Ganassi Racing call Cabarrus County home.

The teams are also extremely fan-friendly, offering visitors glimpses into the teams’ past, present and future by way of their museums. Through their teams stores, they also give fans a chance to take home a special piece of their favorite driver, whether it be a team hat or a front bumper off one of the cars. There is something for everyone.

But the shops aren’t the only things NASCAR-related in Cabarrus County.

It’s hard to drive anywhere in Cabarrus County and not run into something NASCAR related. From NASCAR-themed restaurants, to stores selling NASCAR merchandise, to the NASCAR Speedpark at Concord Mills, NASCAR is everywhere.

After all, this is “Where Racing Lives.”

50 Years Ago Today.....

50 years ago today, Sabena Flight 548 crashed in Brussels, Belgium. On board the plane were all the members of the 1961 US Skating Team. The team was on its way to the 1961 World Championships in Prague, Czechoslovakia.

The crash killed all 18 members of the team, 16 friends, family and coaches and 38 others on that flight. It’s hard to understand the void the crash caused on the families left behind. Wives were left without a husband. Husbands were left without wives. Children were left without fathers or mothers. Entire families were destroyed.

As a result of the crash, some families left the world of skating, never to look back. For the majority of those left behind, it’s taken them 50 years to heal.

This past January at the 2011 US Figure Skating Championships in Greensboro, NC, the 1961 team was honored by being the only inductees into the 2011 US Figure Skating Hall of Fame. The Hall of Fame presented each family with a bowl honoring their loved ones. The ceremony brought together as many family members left as possible. For some, there was no family that could be found.

It was a time for remembrance. A time to look at old photos and bring friends together that had not seen each other in nearly 50 years.

But most importantly, it was a time of healing.

Susan Richards Abbe meets with family friend Fred Heller after not seeing each other in 48 years. Abbe is the brother of Dudley Richards who was in the crash that killed the 1961 US Figure Skating Team. Heller is the college roommate of Dudley Richards.

Diane Yeomans Robins holds a picture of her cousin Sharon "Sherri" Westerfeld. Westerfeld and her sister Stephanie "Steffi" were members of the 1961 US Figure Skating Team that perished in a plane crash in Brussels, Belgium on February 15, 1961.

Diana Le Maire Squibb holds a picture of her brother Richard "Dickie" Le Maire taken the night the 1961 US Figure Skating Team left for Prague. Squibb lost her father National Judge Edward "Eddie" Le Maire and brother Richard "Dickie" Le Maire in the crash that killed the 1961 US Figure Skating Team.

Fred Heller is the college roommate of Dudley Richards, 1961 US Pairs Skating Champion.

Susan Richards Abbe wears a bracelet of the medals awarded to her brother Dudley Richards who was in the crash that killed the 1961 US Figure Skating Team.

Sheryl Nolan holds a medal awarded to her father Daniel Ryan after winning a bronze medal at the 1952 World Championships in Paris, France.

Ruth Scholdan Harle holds a picture of her, her father Edi Scholdan and brother Jimmy taken outside the historic Broadmoor Skating Club in Colorado Springs, CO. Edi Scholdan, along with son Jimmy Scholdan and the 1961 US Figure Skating Team, perished in a plane crash in Brussels, Belgium on February 15, 1961.

Terri Sullivan holds a picture of her and her siblings: (front row left-right) Terri Sullivan, Michael Ryan and Sheryl Nolan, (back row left-right) Patrick Ryan and Kevin Ryan. Their father coach Daniel Ryan and the 1961 US Figure Skating Team perished in a plane crash in Brussels, Belgium on February 15, 1961.

Bowls honoring the 2011 US Figure Skating Hall of Fame inductees line a table at the induction ceremony for the 1961 US Figure Skating Team.

Siblings (seated from left-right) Terri Sullivan and Sheryl Nolan, (back from left-right), Kevin Ryan, Patrick Ryan and Michael Ryan pose for a picture after receiving a bowl honoring their father coach Daniel Ryan at the 2011 US Figure Skating Hall of Fame induction ceremony.


These photos were shot for ESPN's Outside the Lines

Give Me Some Sugar

When you think of snow skiing, North Carolina is not the state that usually comes to mind. For most it’s Colorado or Utah or some place really cold and mountainous with snow so deep one could easily get lost until a spring thaw.

Having grown up in North Carolina, my only memories of snow skiing in this state were with my church youth group. Usually it involved waking up at o-dark-thirty in the morning, going to the church in the freezing cold, cramming 20 people into a 15 passenger van and making the long trek up winding mountain roads to the ski slopes. Once there, you wait in line for what seems like forever-and-a-day to rent your skis, only to hit the slopes and find that they are frozen sheets of ice. Then you spend the entire day careening down the mountain like kamikaze on skis with your butt so close to the ground that it hits every bump or downed skier in your way. Or, if your like me, you look like Vinko Bogataj, the “Agony of Defeat” skier made famous by ABC’s Wide World of Sports for his epic cartwheeling crash coming off a jump at the Ski-Flying World Championships in 1970.

Fast forward twenty-plus-years and snow skiing in North Carolina is a whole new story.

A couple of weeks ago I got sent to Sugar Mountain in Banner Elk, NC, to shoot a little snow skiing stock photos.

Arriving there I realized this wasn’t like the ski slopes of my youth. There was actual snow on the mountain, not the man made stuff, but the stuff that falls naturally out of the sky.

The resort hooked me up with one of members of the ski patrol, Gene Self, a twenty-plus-year veteran member of the patrol that volunteers on the weekend. He was going to show me around the slopes.

More than 20 years after I last attempted to ski and not wanting to risk life, limb and camera (not necessarily in that order), it was quickly decided that I would not attempt to ski and take pictures.

Luckily, they had a solution. Gene would sled me down the slopes. Not what I had in mind but definitely better than sitting at the bottom of the slope and catching people as they came tumbling toward the lodge.

Being with the ski patrol has its benefits. With a long line for the ski lift, Gene and I casually walked up to the operator, Gene gave him a few instructions and we were in the next chairs up the mountain. Just like skipping that long line at Disney World for Space Mountain.

Membership has its privileges.

I shot a few pictures on the way up. And as my chair approached the getting off point that most people would ski down, the lift slowed and I was able to walk off without busting my butt. I probably did a lot better without skis than I would have done with.

At the top of the mountain is where we picked up my ride, an old ski patrol sled used to carry the injured down the slope. Call it the ride of shame.

As Gene gets me situated in the sled he points out a note written at the front, “It says trash sled but don’t take it personal. It’s just one we don’t use for transporting people anymore,” as he tightens a strap over my legs. “Use this for an ‘Oh Shit’ handle,” he says as he leaves me a little slack.

And we’re off.

It was like a sleigh ride over the river and through the woods but with a little more excitement. More like taking the sleigh down a black diamond with a sharp turn to the left, coming to a perfect stop at the base of one of the runs.

I’d snap a few pictures and then it was back into the sled, skipping along the slope to the next photo op.

I was great watching people as we made our way down the slope. Imagine the look you get from people as you pass them on the sled taking pictures. It’s like they were mesmerized by the sight of a train wreck and then they’d come close to having one.

Gene and I made a couple of runs down the mountain that day. It was a blast. I really couldn’t have gotten the pictures I did without his help.

Of course, that day has me wanting to make another trip to Sugar Mountain. This time to ski. I’ll just plan to leave the camera at home. And if I happen to pull an “Agony of Defeat,” at least I know the ride down the mountain in the ski patrol sled will be just as fun.

Smoke and Mirrors

The shoot aint over until the smoke detector goes off.

 

 

 

My buddy Ian Curcio and I got together a few days ago in his hometown of Spartanburg, SC, to do a little shooting and a lot of socializing. He had invited me down to shoot a couple of models he knows from Converse College and had also arranged for us to shoot in an old house the school owns.

 

You can tell how a shoot is going to go by the equipment you take with you.

 

I personally packed a couple bags of light stands, a set of dyna-lites, a plethora of softboxes and umbrellas, two bags of cameras and lenses, a couple beauty dishes, a vagabond battery and a ringflash.

 

Ian didn’t have as much gear as I did, but he was close.

 

Between the two of us, we could have easily opened our own rental house.

 

That morning we loaded our cars full of gear, drove to the house and unpacked. To speed things up during the shoot, we set up as much of the gear as we could in a hallway: softboxes and a gaggle of lightstands. As it usually goes, over half of which sat in the hallway unused.

 

Along with the models and the house, Ian had also managed to procure the piece de resistance: a smoke machine.

 

For the record, smoke machines will set off smoke detectors. Make sure you have a ladder handy and preferably not up a flight of stairs and tucked away in a closet.

 

The day was a blast. We explored almost every nook and cranny in that old house: from the old furnace in the basement to the very colorful bathing facilities. They ranged from pink to purple to baby blue. And then some.

 

 

Needless to say, we both had fun and are ready for the next time we can get together to do this again.

 

I just hope by then I will have learned my lesson about overpacking.

 

Somehow, I have this funny feeling it’s a lesson I’ll be repeating again. And again. And again….

Super Size Me

There are some questions you have to ask. Even if you know the answer.

When I was photographing the Port of Charleston’s Wando Welch facility in Mt. Pleasant, SC, I asked my escort if it would be possible to get on one of the cranes used to load and offload ships. I was totally floored by her response.

“Let me check.”

In a few minutes our tour guide for this excursion, a crane supervisor, met us at the base of one of the cranes.

I was all set to start climbing the stairs to the top, after all, it was my brilliant idea. When to my surprise, and the answer to my quick prayers, the door to an elevator opened at the base of the crane. The elevator was a welcome relief, but just try stuffing three people into one.

From atop the crane, you get an idea of how big this facility really is. The containers look like little building boxes stacked in neat little rows throughout the complex; jockey trucks weaving their way around the ever constantly changing maze.

This was the first time my escort and I had ever been on a crane this size and we both welcomed the chance to step inside the cab of a Super post-Panamax crane and watch the operator work his magic.

I’m not that afraid of heights. Having worked about 300 feet above the Georgia Dome floor installing lights for a basketball game, you get accustomed really quick. Because the only thing that separates you from a 300 foot triple axle with a one and a half twist is a metal grate with holes big enough to almost slip through.

But walking into the cab made me a little uncomfortable.

Half the floor was made of very clear lexan.

You could see everything below from there. Which I guess is the point.

The operator moves the crane back and forth using a couple of joysticks as he grabs a container from the ship, raises it about a hundred feet in the air and drops it precisely on the back of a jockey truck.

The entire time I watching this guy and taking pictures, the only thing I can think of is how good he must be at the crane game at the arcade. His house must look like a reproduction of Noah’s Ark with all the stuffed animals he’s lifted from those machines.

Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s banned for life from the games at Chuck E. Cheese.

This crane is one of ten the port operates at the Wando Welch terminal: 6 are Super post-Panamax and 4 are post-Panamax.

A post-Panamax crane is capable of loading or unloading a ship that is too wide to pass through the Panama Canal. It generally has the reach to remove up to 18 rows of containers.

Now, the Super post-Panamax is the big daddy. Just like the post-Panamax crane, it is made for ships that are too wide to pass through the Panama Canal. But it’s reach is about 22 rows of containers and it has a lifting capacity of about 65 tons. It’s also about 180 feet tall and the boom is over 400 feet long, well over the size of a football field.

With these cranes, super truly is an understatement.

I Ate Stanley's Brother-In-Law

That’s what one of the bumper sticker affixed to the window says. Accolades and pictures hang on the wall under a set of horns from a longhorn steer. Framed articles from BScene, IN Magazine, Texas Monthly and County Line pepper the wall. 

Stanley’s Famous Pit Bar-B-Que has been a Tyler, TX, institution for over 50 and has been a repeat honoree on the Texas Monthly best BBQ list for years.

But their most recent award came this past year at the inaugural Texas Monthly Best BBQ Festival. Out of all the competitors from around the state, (Texas Monthly only invited about 20 out of the 50 on their Best BBQ in Texas list) Stanley’s took home the people’s choice award for best BBQ, which owner Nick Pencis considers a truly prestigious honor.

The sign out the door lists the sold out items as they get devoured, which happens often since everything is made daily. It’s not quite 11am and there’s already a line that’s formed. Lunch runs from 11-2 “or ‘til it’s all gone.” 

One of the favorites on the menu is the Brother-In-Law sandwich which consists of a grilled hot link, cheese and either chopped brisket or pulled pork. The sandwich is then bathed in barbecue sauce goodness before the top of the bun goes on. Try it with a little onions, jalapenos and hot sweet pickles.

After serving up so many brother-in-law and ex-wife sandwiches, you’d think Stanley’s would have done run out of extended family. But until the steady line of customers dies down, or it hits the sold out board, they just keep making more.

Also, don’t let the full parking lot discourage you, there’s more parking out back.

Just like the bumper sticker says, I ate Stanley’s Brother-In-Law. And I’d do it again.

Zoom, Zoom in the Zoo City

Anybody who knows me, knows I'm quite a geek when it comes to gear. So it will come as no surprise that I bought a new toy to play with.

I got a GoPro HD camera a few weeks ago and couldn't wait to try it.

Fortunately for me, I had an assignment to take pictures at Zoo City Motor Sports Park in Asheboro, NC. The park was built by Barry Maness to host motocross events and attracts riders from up and down the east coast.

When I got to the track, Barry was kind enough to point me in the direction of Steve York and his son Eden. Eden is starting out in motocross and agreed to take my GoPro for a spin during one of his races. It you watch to about the 1:13 mark, you'll see Eden and the camera soar through the air on one of the jumps.