Andrew Keller akeller@kfyrtv.com

My Favorite Stories: The Lighthearted Stories
11-17-09

This was going to be an entry into my blog last week but that was axed when the news in Dickinson broke.

Kohlrabi. Pronounced ‘Cole-rabi’ or as some say, ‘Cole-er-abi.’ If you don’t know what I’m talking about, watch this story first, http://www.kfyrtv.com/news_stories.asp?news=35194,
and then proceed to read this. For all of the others, I’ll come back to this in a minute.

I want the fun stories, the light-hearted ones, the ones that are memorable forever. The majority want to break the news about corruption in government. This simple preference makes me different from 95 percent of the people who are aspiring journalists.

I’ve always been this way. When I first broke into this business, my main goal was to be a feature reporter, report the stories of normal people who live normal lives but have something unique about them. There’s enough people out there who can go out and get the real ‘meat’ story, the story that will be the lead, will make people wonder what the heck is wrong with others, and can be defined as ‘bad news.’ Anywhere you go, you know there’s bad. In fact, there always will be bad, but I think there needs to be light shed on the good. Some of you may say, “Well, the entire newscast should be good.” I agree, but in all reality, nobody would watch the station if that was the case, because (bad) news sells.

But what if you threw a giant kohlrabi into a newscast. If you had a pendulum of good news and bad news in a newscast, it’s fair to believe a 40 pound kohlrabi (the good news) could equal it out. Recently, I had an assignment placed on my desk for a Saturday. It said there was a man in town who had a miraculous vegetable feat; he had produced a 40 pound kohlrabi. To be honest, before this day, I had never heard of a kohlrabi. It wouldn’t surprise me if you haven’t either, so for those wondering what it is, it apparently kohlrabi tastes like a cabbage.

Anyways, this story was one of my favorite stories I have done in a long time, and here’s why: a) it was right down my alley on a subject I like reporting on (which is larger-than-life objects), b) the story had two of the best interviews I’ve ever had in my life, and c) I had the opportunity to quote Bugs Bunny and say, ‘What’s up, Doc.’ Those three aspects allow me to be creative in the way I write the story, have fun with it, and produce a memorable piece. In other words, I took this giant kohlrabi and ran with it.

Any opportunities I get to do a story on something that may be a little off the wall I’ll take full advantage of it. It’s not the hard news that will be in the beginning of the newscast, but it’s the news that makes people know there’s still good in the world and great stories to be told.

Like it? Hate it? E-mail me at akeller@kfyrtv.com



When Tragedy Strikes
11-6-09

I wouldn’t have ever guessed that a call from a Dickinson resident and dear friend of mine, Dave Greenwood, would have led to me breaking some of the biggest news North Dakota has ever had.

On November 2, I woke up early, did a morning work-out, and went into work early. About 10 minutes after I walked into the door, I got a call from Dave Greenwood asking me if I had heard about the three missing Dickinson State University softball players. I said, “I had not, but I’ll investigate.” When I called the police department, I spoke with Lieutenant Dave Wallace, who is the type of police officer who would call me with any breaking news while I was in Dickinson. When he picked up the phone, I posed the informational question, and he responded by saying, “I don’t know how you always know stuff so quickly.” I took this as a compliment and immediately wanted to kiss my friend Dave because he had led me into a story I knew could only be big.

I immediately drove to Dickinson, taking nothing but the equipment and the suit I was wearing. While driving, I got a call from the PD saying there would be a press conference at 3 pm mountain time. I got to Dickinson around 1:30 p.m. mountain time, and thought I’d investigate before the press conference. I had heard reports there were kids from the university driving around in search for the three women. I drove a few back streets north of Dickinson, when I noticed a car with California plates on it and about six people in it. The car pulled over, so I pulled up to the side and asked if they were looking for a few people. They said, “Yes.” That’s when I knew this was a big deal.

At 3 p.m., I went to the conference. The police briefed us, saying they were looking for a white 1997 Jeep Cherokee from the air. They said a friend was the last person in contact with the girls, and the girls ‘sounded frantic and mentioned water.’ I remember thinking to myself, ‘oh boy, this can’t be good.’

Not much more happened Monday. I wrote my story, I made a few calls, and my boss told me to hang out in Dickinson that night because something could happen on Tuesday. All I had with me was my suit so I went to Wal-mart to buy undershirts, boxers, and some essentials. While I was in the trial size aisle, there was a couple also buying trial size essentials. I remember thinking to myself, “Wow, I bet these are the parents of one of the missing women.” I didn’t ask them though and proceeded to check out. As I went into the parking lot, that same couple was parked next to my vehicle. They said, “Oh, you must be with the news media.” I said, “I am.” They introduced themselves as Lenny and Claire Gemar, the parents of Kyrston Gemar, one of the missing Dickinson State students. They said they had flown in from Seattle and San Diego. Lenny gave me his cell phone number, and he agreed to give me an interview the next day. When you’re lucky, you’re lucky. Having this phone number would prove to be invaluable. I went to bed Monday night hoping for the best for these parents. Tuesday came around and it came around early. At 2 a.m., I got a call from NBC’s Today Show Producer Alan Cohen. He asked me for the latest information I had, so I gave it to him. He said later in the afternoon, NBC crews would be showing up and they may need my help. I said, “Anything you need, let me know.” This phone call would be number one of nearly 500 that day.

There was an early morning press conference held by the police to let us know the latest on the search efforts. Police said they had three airplanes in the air, searching for the missing women. They also said they had dive teams set in place. After this conference, I called my boss saying I needed some help, because this story was getting bigger every minute. Photographer Dwayne Walker and reporter Retha Colclasure were sent on assignment and their help and expertise would prove to be beneficial in our coverage. Tuesday, there was a lot of anticipation in the air from people wondering what was happening with this and what the final conclusion would be. A 3 p.m. press conference was scheduled by the university, so they could discuss what they were doing. At 3:45 p.m., police entered the press conference and said it was cancelled, but told us to hang around because there’d be another one shortly. I was next to one of the producers from NBC, and she said that’s usually not a good sign. As a reporter, I knew this had to be bad, real bad.

The police rescheduled a press conference for 5 p.m. When I got to the press conference, the police were there along with DSU officials. The DSU officials looked as if they were very upset. I had a LIVE hit at 5 pm mountain time, so I pulled the Chief of Police, Chuck Rummel, aside and asked him for the latest. He told me search teams had found the three women dead in the bottom of a pond northwest of Dickinson. The news was not what anyone wanted to hear. I remember breaking into the newscast and reporting the news, which was tough to do. The question now became how did this happen?

The news of the three found dead would lead to a very busy night. After the press conference, I would go back and write my story for the Night Report. There were many unanswered questions, but we did know where the three were found, how they died, and the importance of cell phones to find their bodies. After my LIVE shot outside of the Dickinson Police Department, I headed back to the KQCD-TV bureau. There was a satellite truck parked outside, and inside, Retha was chatting with NBC National Reporter John Yang. Tuesday night I finally fell asleep around 1:30 am.

Wednesday started early just like the day before did. I had to do three LIVE shots for Country Morning Today, meaning I had to wake up at 3 a.m. There was a press conference set at 5 am mountain time, again to brief the media with the latest information. The press conference gave specific times police found the women along with more details. Every national media outlet was at this conference. As the day went on, I coordinated both KFYR-TV and NBC to get video of the pond the women were found in. As we were out there, I got a call from the father of Kyrston, saying he was coming out to the pond with his wife and the families of others and would give me an interview. We captured the emotional video of families and members of the softball team when they reached the pond. They threw flowers and softballs into the pond in remembrance of the three women.

The scene on campus was somber. Students set up a memorial in honor of the three. Overall, Wednesday was very sad.

This entire situation was sad. I knew when I decided I wanted to be a reporter, I would have situations like these to report. Being in a situation like this, it’s imperative you leave work at work. I’m human - I did get emotionally involved. However, when I was off for the day, I did not want to discuss it with anybody. I think this kept me unbiased and able to tell the news.

This was the first breaking news story I’ve been a part of, and I don’t know how I did, but I learned so much over those three days. I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything, however, I wish there was a different ending. I hope I was able to tell the news in a way that was unbiased and factual for viewers.



Hunting Season in North Dakota
10-19-09

Chiht, Chiht. That’s my rendition of an onomatopoeia to describe the sound of cocking a shotgun.

I grew up in an urban area of Michigan and never really fell in love with the idea of hunting. I think watching the combination of Bambi and Fox and the Hound at a very unstable age of my life can be to blame for this. Before you click the back button on the browser, hear me out.

A ton of my friends went ‘up-north’ every year, which is a widely accepted Michigander way to describe the boonies and the wooded areas of northern Michigan in search of that trophy buck. I remember when I was young and thinking, ‘Wow, what’s fun about sitting outside in snow, being quiet, and keeping an eye for any movement?” (For the record, I hate cold temperatures, I’m loud, and I have the attention span of a small child on the playground.) Most would return from ‘up-north,’ they’d discuss their adventures, how they were outside for five days straight, saw a 16-point buck in the distance, but never could get a clear shot at it, and came back empty-handed. Others would bring the highly-regarded venison jerky to the discussion, a cocky smirk on their face, and as they jaw on the jerky, rip it away, and munch on the great-tasting food for minutes on end, they’d talk about their perfect shot. I loved the stories, the meat, but I never could relate.

I then moved to North Dakota, where hunting is seemingly a close second behind church on Sundays. I learn the opening day of pheasant hunting season is like Thanksgiving; the opening day of deer season is like Christmas; and if you are lucky enough to shoot a mountain lion, you are a big dog. Since I’ve moved here, the most common question asked of me by North Dakotans is, ‘Do you hunt?’ I say “No.” But every time on cue right behind no I say, “I wish I did because I think it’s awesome.” I think I do this so people don’t think I’m a member of PETA or against guns in America. I am not a member of PETA nor against the right to bare arms. I just simply never got into hunting.

I must say I’ve learned a lot since being in North Dakota, but one thing that has stuck out the most is tradition. Whether it’s a family tradition or just the tradition among friends, I’ve concluded people hunt more than just to hunt.

I did a story recently about the opening of pheasant hunting season. Lee Ellison, one of KFYR-TV’s great photographers, and I drove to public land south of Mandan in hopes of finding a couple of hunters. As Lee would say, “The media Gods were with us.” We didn’t find just an interview - we found one of the best interviews I’ve had in a while. It was a man out in the field with his gun in one hand and his six-year-old son in the other. The Merriam-Webster definition of ‘tradition’ is a real life situation. Both the dad and son had matching camouflage vests and huge smiles on their faces. I asked the dad, “What’s the best part of being out here, the chance to shoot a pheasant?”

He laughed and said, “No, it’s being with my son, I wouldn’t trade this for anything, I remember being his age and being out in the fields with my dad, and now I get to pass the tradition.”

Boom….insert the onomatopoeia of the shotgun that we cocked earlier going off. It all started to make sense to me. I thought back to my friends who would go hunting, and rather judging them on whether or not they got a 16-point buck, I remember their stories where they’d sit with their Dad and Grandpa and enjoy life. It’s so much more than the time they spent in their tree blinds, it’s a time of the year where family tradition kicks in. And without tradition, where would we be? This quote hit hard, and continues to sit hard.

Although the hunting tradition isn’t a part of my family’s traditions, don’t get me wrong, we still have many of our own that could work synonymous with hunting. But for something that is so important for so many North Dakotans and even my friends back in Michigan, the season is more significant than hoping to drop the perfect game.

Boom! Have a safe and successful hunting season!

Like it? Hate it? E-mail me at akeller@kfyrtv.com



Snow in October? Bring It On
10-5-09

What’s better then coming home after a long day of work, hanging your winter coat up, sliding your winter boots off, slipping your slippers on, sipping a hot cup of cocoa, and flipping on Wheel of Fortune? My answer is everything.

There’s not one benefit of snow. It’s a pain to shovel, it causes accidents, it means cold, it covers fields, and it hurts the environment, as meaningless carbon monoxide fills the air in attempt to make your vehicle warm. The funny thing about all of this is I’m from Michigan. I grew up with snow - now I want to grow up without it.

Have you ever said so many explicatives in a situation you later look back, and are ashamed you kiss your mother with the same mouth? On the day I began hating snow, I did. I remember the exact day. It was late March in Dickinson, when a) it shouldn’t be snowing anymore and b) the shovel should be put up for the season. Well, take the antonym of ‘A’ and ‘B’ and that’s what it was. It was like a slap in the face when I woke up on this late March day, went upstairs, and looked outside. Some people argue “how beautiful it is outside, and how they love North Dakota because in other states there’s nothing like this.” I thought to myself, “Oh, this is beautiful, real beautiful, real (explicative) beautiful.”

You know, it wouldn’t have been beautiful even if my car had access to the road. It had anything but access. 18 inches of snow had fallen, and in North Dakota, the wind blows. There was a five foot drift which was ten feet long between me and the road. In broadcasting, there’s no such thing as “snow days.” You must get to work. The shovel that was stowed away for the spring, summer, and fall became a key component of my life at that point. Let’s just say after a back-breaking, and exhausting six hours, I finally dug myself out. (This is a true story, by the way).

But the fun wasn’t over. I had got myself ready for work, put on clean clothes (because I had drenched my other clothes with sweat), and was on my way. I didn’t get 40 feet from my house and BOOM, high-centered, stuck as can be. It was time for another hour of digging myself out.

After getting my car dug out once again, I drove it back home. I had enough. I remember getting on the phone, probably crying because at this point my emotions had got the best of me, and asking everyone I knew if they knew somebody who owned a snowmobile. Luckily, I found a snowmobile, and that’s how I got to work that day.

I remember saying to myself that day, “If I survive today, I will start a snow-hating support group.” I haven’t done that yet, but I hope to this winter. It’s amazing, even as I write this blog, I get tense. I think of the ridiculously stupid amounts of snow that I dealt with that day. I used to like snowmobiling, sledding, and skiing, but not anymore.

So what’s better than snow? You can fill in the blank. Like it? Hate it? E-mail me at akeller@kfyrtv.com.



From Rags to Riches
9-28-09

Have you ever won the lottery? Have you hit the three sevens on a slot machine? Have you ever doubled down on a blackjack hand just to hit that needed 10 for a 21?

My uncle once told me to plan the next five years of my life. He said, “Outline where you want to be, what you want to be doing, where you want to go, and how you’re going to get there.” I took his advice, and I wrote a five page summary, a full report for my five-year plan. He told me not to show anybody, and use it to bridge your successes, but he also warned me things can change and to stay flexible. I initially took this advice like I take the asterisked caveat at the bottom of a M&M’s bag warning me “this product may contain nuts.”

Maybe I was nuts for not listening to his advice because after spending hours writing my five-year plan, and having everything set in order, my plans did change. I was supposed to be a 22 year-old kid reporting for a television station in south Florida! I will be honest in saying this, when I wrote my five-year plan, North Dakota wasn’t even asterisked at the bottom as a possibility.

After I graduated from college, I was ready to shoot to the top. I sent out nearly 100 resumes across the country ready to see how many stations would call me back, and negotiate with each of them until I got my deserved $70,000 offer. It was part of my well -thought five-year plan.

However, it didn’t work like that, didn’t work like that one bit. There was a point, after two weeks of not hearing back from a single station, I said, “If I don’t hear back from a station in the next week, I am going to get out of this business, take a small business loan, and open a smoothie shop on a boardwalk in California.” I didn’t get a call back that next week. When that week came to an end, I thought I’d give it one more shot.

Flexing away from the five-year plan, I sent four more resumes: Bismarck, North Dakota; Waco, Texas; Augusta, Georgia; and Gainesville, Florida. I told myself I would work these stations hard and if I didn’t get a hit from one of them, I would forever throw in the towel and find another career route. It was a statement a heavy gambler makes after a losing night.

After calling all four stations and leaving messages, I remember being at Lacrosse practice (I used to coach high school Lacrosse) and getting a call from Monica Hannan. She had an opening in a bureau in Dickinson, North Dakota. I remember thinking to myself “Oh my God, North Dakota, are there people that even live in North Dakota?” Reluctantly, I said yes. It wasn’t south Florida, it wasn’t part of my plan, but two weeks later, I packed my bags.

The first two weeks in Dickinson, I was probably the loneliest person in the world. I didn’t know anybody. I left everything I loved in Michigan, and here I am in North Dakota. Then, I started making friends, not just acquaintances, but great friends, and everything started to fall in order. What I didn’t know was Dickinson would be like hitting a jackpot. My time in North Dakota has been like holding the lottery ticket to a $50 million prize. I wish I was getting paid $50 million, but what I learned in Dickinson, and the fantastic friends I’ve made is an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything. The Dickinson bureau made me realize I still have a lot of work to do before I’m successful in this career.

Was Dickinson part of my five-year plan? Absolutely not. Was I prepared for what I had planned to completely fall through? Absolutely not. Is it a good thing this happened? Absolutely. I was proud to be the Dickinson reporter, the one people tuned into at night. I was also proud to tell the fantastic stories western North Dakota had to offer.

Being in Bismarck, it’s like getting a chance to turn that C grade into a B by getting an A. What I mean is, I will continue to get much better, work hard for the people of North Dakota, and take everything I can from this fantastic opportunity. Flexing North Dakota into my five-year plan has been like winning the lottery.

Like it? Hate it? E-mail me at akeller@kfyrtv.com.

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