Wednesday, October 20, 2010
"atlantic city refugee"
the san diego fair used to be called the del mar fair. i haven't any idea why they changed the name. my dad used to take me to the press party for the fair - that was always fun - lots of midway food to eat and easy wins at the midway games.
my dad and Don Diego were buddies. i have many photos of them together and i remember being introduced. don diego always wore a fancy mexican costume with a large hat that hat sequins and embroidery. my dad loved the fair----- and don diego loved my dad. this all worked for me.
it was not unusual that my dad was friends with don diego or any number of other colorful folks because my dad owned a couple of small newspapers--- he was friends with most anyone who hoped to get same publicity.
but see. there is where my dad and i are different - he loved meeting people and didn't mind at all that they were fast friends for publicity. i would have a hard time with that i think. i think i would not like to know that people were nice to me for an ulterior motive.
but maybe not. afterall its an easy game to figure out - why not call it what it is and enjoy the company for as long as it lasts of those you would not normally know?
i think my dad was very much old school journalist. he liked to really get to know the person and flesh out a story. one of his favorite rituals was to take the potential interviewee next door to bob's place the saloon, where they would have a couple "shots" to get acquainted. those who were seeking a spot in the news were sometimes shocked to read the angle my dad was after.
he was a newspaper man/reporter/investigator/journalist - he always told the truth. he told me:
"you must never lie, once you lie will never have any credibility again." i followed that advice - maybe to a harsh fault.
my dad always carried a narrow top flip notepad ad a soft lead pencil - handy to take down a story. he would use shorthand marks to get it down fast. that was the reporter in him. he also loved to hang out or ride around in the sheriff's car.
i remember his "brownie" camera man. he always wore a hat and had his camera around his neck following my dad around. my dad would command "snap a couple shots of that , ok Bill?"
often my dad would have these reporter photos up on his wall in his office. i was horrified many times to see a bloody body spilling out a crashed car.
so this painting really has nothing to do with my dad's real personality - this is just me using his image to create a character. he would think it funny -i know.
and i am proud to say that's what he passed down to me - his own brand of wit. and i too like to investigate and root out a story - but i paint mine.