Menu
DAZE WORK: Stop the Presses: Trees blown down that have never been blown down before
One of my favorite movie scenes that always brings a smile to any newspaperman’s face is from the 1994 film, “The Paper,” starring Michael Keaton and Randy Quaid.
Newspaper editor Keaton and boozy columnist (aren’t they always?) Quaid are racing their way toward the pressroom to terminate the press run because of a new development in a controversial crime story.
As they near the rumbling press, Keaton and Quaid exchange knowing glances.
“You know you want to say it,” Quaid of Cousin Eddie fame insists. “You’ve got to say it ...”
And Keaton obliges, screaming, “Stop the presses!,” something every editor has desired to say yet few have ever uttered.
It was much the same in the Banner Graphic newsroom Thursday afternoon as the brunt of the severe storm that hit the area passed. Editor Jared and I were priming intern Nina for her trip out to snag some storm damage photos when we caught each other’s eye and smiled.
Simultaneously we blurted out, “Trees were blown down that had never been blown down before.”
If you’ve lived around Greencastle long enough, you’ve probably heard that statement before, perhaps not knowing where it came from. Trust me, we’ve heard it plenty at the Banner Graphic.
Its origin is from an editor predecessor of mine, likely making its way into print in the late 1960s or early 1970s, soon after the Daily Banner and the Weekly Graphic were merged. I came here in September 1975, so I’m exonerated.
My first encounter with the statement was through the late former county auditor John Carson, who took particular delight in tormenting us every time trees started to fall and he could find a new way to accentuate the negative. My personal favorite was him invoking the old W.C. Fields intonation with distinctive accenting of both uses of “down” before crescendoing on “before.”
As misguided as the verbiage of the trees narrative seemed to be, there is a twisted logic to it, as in trees that have withstood decades, perhaps even centuries of wind and rain and lightning, are now being brought down by a current storm.
Our latest weather misadventure has not been kind to me as I’ve spent the better part of the last few days without power, internet or cable TV and watched my cell phone do a slow death nightly. At least when my cable and internet went out for nine days a couple of years ago I still had lights and power although I missed watching the final games of the World Series and two Sundays of NFL football.
This time when my phone totally died overnight, I had no idea what time it was when I woke up since I don’t own a single non-electric clock or even a working watch. With it being so overcast, it could have been 6 a.m. It could have been 11 a.m. I didn’t know whether it was McGriddles or McChicken time at McDonald’s.
I’ve spent so much time at McDonald’s, charging my phone through breakfast and lunch that I’m beginning to feel like the guy Tom Hanks played in the movie “The Terminal,” who lived in an airport for something like 14 years because all his paperwork got lost and he couldn’t fly out and he couldn’t go back from whence he came.
Meanwhile, over the past four days I’ve realized I’ve been without power longer than I was during the Blizzard of ’78.
This situation has also driven home a point I’ve realized for years -- I wouldn’t have been a good pioneer.
Imagine having to kill, clean and cook your own food. Every meal!?! Hauling water from the creek. Walking next to your wagon from Texas to the Pacific along the Oregon Trail. I’ve been watching the “Yellowstone” prequel series “1883,” and it sure looks as though either Indians are circling your wagons, bad guys are around every corner ready to rape, rob or murder you or you’re going to get smallpox and die anyway.
On top of that, no phone, no lights, no internet, no cable, no power ... just like the last four days.
Locally you probably have to go back to August 1990 and the infamous Downburst to find a storm more devastating to our tree inventory and community psyche. It was so bad in Greencastle it spawned the 2,000 trees by 2000 planting initiative.
Overall I think I’ve uncovered a culprit in all this. You always need a villain, right?
Blame Canada. We were perfectly fine, eh, until that smoke from Canadian forest fires started invading Indiana. Can we call it Canadian Mist? Because that stuff borders on putrid -- not that I’d really know -- like Southern Comfort with a splash of Big Walnut Creek water.
At least the 80-mph winds that blew down those trees that have never been blown down before apparently shoved the smoke out of here for the time being.
So no need to holler “Stop the presses!” now ... but, boy, wouldn’t that have been fun.