Example of A Common Copyright Violation in Storm Photography
Back in the early 1990s, Fred K. Smith of Okeechobee, FL, took one of the most dramatic weather shots ever known–a tornado over Lake Okeechobee, adjacent to a bright, forked lightning strike. [The lake was behind some trees.] The WeatherMatrix BLOG, among other sources, legitimately reports on and properly credits the image. However, they have the date wrong–it actually was 15 June 1991 (not 1993). I actually was out the same night, attempting with much less success to shoot lightning with different storms, about 100 miles south of Fred’s position.
I have a signed print of the photo sent by Mr. Smith himself, a souvenir of a photographic exchange that Fred and I had in ’93, shortly after I moved to Kansas City from South Florida. All the evenings I spent photographing storms in the heat, humidity and mosquito clouds of the Everglades never yielded anything like that! The image ended up in National Geographic and several other legitimate publications, surely earning Fred some well-deserved shekels for his retirement.
Unfortunately, illegal scans of Fred’s iconic photo have been circulated around the Internet in countless forms over the years, including e-mail relays with an oil rig faked into the photo and passed off as being in Texas. About.com has an urban legends page devoted to that incident. All manner of bogus “facts” have been assigned to the image.
It just keeps happening. I’ve blotted out names and avatars of all but the person who is propagating Fred’s image without his consent.
No. No! No!!! NO!!!!!
This is NOT yesterday night’s North Platte tornado. Whomever first claimed it as such is a bald-faced liar. And everyone underneath the photo, in the comments section, has been jobbed too, by being misled into wrongful attribution of the image.
Let’s not rush to conclusions and blame either Jim Logsdon or his son yet. Both of them could have been played like a fiddle by somebody else passing off this Florida tornado as being from North Platte. Still, nobody should pass along photo claims without verifying their authenticity; and that’s where Mr. Logsdon definitely erred (along with six of his Facebook followers). Let me be clear: Ignorance is no excuse.
This photo, at some point, was stolen from its owner and propagated without his permission. Credit needs to go where credit is due, and that is to Fred Smith. As a fellow storm photographer, I feel a rightful duty to call out this kind of untruthful garbage. Far more of this happens than I notice; but when it does, I won’t hesitate to bring attention to it.
I also will alert photographers I know to unauthorized uses of their imagery, online or in print. I am grateful or other storm enthusiasts who have afforded me the same favor. I have given, and will continue to offer, monetary reward from the copyright-violation settlement to anyone who finds a photo of mine that turns out to be used without permission.
Dealing with the Storm Hordes
I could complain about the growing crowds around supercells until my face turns blue, and it won’t matter…so I won’t. I’ll simply state the problem as it appears: Storm chasing has gotten too big.
What’s the solution? Other than some form of testing and licensing, which practically is unenforceable, or some sort of credentials-based allowance for nonresidents (which I like in concept, but which probably is unconstitutional and nearly unenforceable), I don’t have one. I’m not willing to stop doing it, and neither are far too many other people.
The roads are too small, the vehicles too numerous, the selfish highway behavior increasingly rampant, especially in very tightly focused target situations such as discrete supercells in a central Oklahoma “High Risk” in May (example). It’s no coincidence, either, that several so-called “professional” storm chasers exhibit the most unprofessional behavior around storms. Not only that, they do so for the whole world to see, as if it were a badge of honor to act like delirious morons with Red Bull coursing through their veins. We even see some chasers deliberately targeting nighttime situations, in forested areas with hills east of the Plains–a geo-meteorological juxtaposition of unsafe conditions that storm observers 20 years ago wouldn’t have considered whatsoever.
On discussion fora online, some folks have stated they will chase less, or not at all. That’s fine with me; but for each such decision, I guarantee there will be two or three others–less-experienced chaser-wannabe’s–to replace them, for a net gain in road crowds, and net loss of safety and understanding.
One recently trendy “solution” seems to be going after later, lesser or so-called “secondary” targets on purpose. The notion is noble, but the problematic reality is two-fold:
1. When a potential storm day is tightly focused, and the desire is to witness the most awesome spectacle the atmosphere can provide, the “other area” might be too conditional or marginal to risk missing the big show. Lots of lip service is paid in advance to “alternative” targets by some of the same chasers who I know end up on the main storm(s) of the day. Talk is cheap. Action is what matters. In forecast mode, take such proclamations with a grain of salt, unless you really are one of the few storm observers (like Mike Umscheid) who are well-known to actively target the alternative play, then actually do what they say. I give Mike all the credit in the world for aiming away from the main concentration on many occasions, and still coming away from the chase day with spectacular photography.
2. Eventually, even the secondary storms, alternative targets and more remote areas like the Dakotas and Montana will become popular and overused, much as alternative music went mainstream in the 1990s. Even on a spread-out day from central Nebraska to central Texas, even a small minority of the total existence of chasers trying to drive to and around the storms would cause crowding in some “secondary” areas, despite with an unevenly skewed distribution of chasers toward the more obvious targets. If we see 5,000 vehicles distributed among ten storms, that’s an average of 500 per storm! Where does this level off? When the alternatives become too popular, then what?
The answers are unknown and entirely speculative. Higher petrol prices may thin the crowds out somewhat; but more die-hards than it may seem (including me) simply will sacrifice other expenditures in life to keep on pursuing amazing vantages of storms. The crowds (and occasional overcrowding) seem inevitable, sometimes inescapable. The demise of transportation itself (i.e., the end of civilization as we know it) seems to be the only end to storm-chase crowding.
Several local constabularies and at least a couple of state highway patrols already have road-blockade policies in place to stop all vehicles (including chasers) from approaching “unsafe” storms, under powers of emergency action. More likely will follow. Storm observers should self-police before more of these jurisdictions (and ultimately, state-level politicians) try it for us.
This is no realm for social cowardice. We can and should call out those who engage in egregiously dangerous and unsafe practices, whether once or on a regular basis. Storm observing inherently is somewhat unsafe, and I know nobody (self included) who hasn’t made a mistake of judgment. Everyone should be held responsible for what they do, me included. By sheer number of reckless and dangerous actions, this applies most of all to the chronic, egregious violators of law, common sense, and courtesy.
This year, my request for chasers is simple: Around those roadways, please drive, park and position yourself and your equipment with modesty and consideration for others in mind. And be willing to sacrifice the “money shots” for another day, if getting that footage is unsafe for or disrespectful to someone else.
After all, it’s not about me, or you, or money, or recognition anyway…it’s about the storms.
Nature Calls at the Worst Times
Have you ever wondered what would happen if a pilot (or co-pilot) had to go to the latrine very, very badly while in final approach and landing? Well, for starters, it’s against regulations. This pilot/BLOGger relates his first officer’s experience in such a situation…
Hilarious, in retrospect! In hindsight, yes…
I can say that because: 1) the first officer didn’t unleash a butt-grenade in his own uniform trousers while landing; and 2) I can relate to his predicament, albeit with much less at stake.
On 21 May 1998 (my birthday, no less), I had just such an experience around Dix, Nebraska, while Rich Thompson I were approaching a supercell — high-based, but nonetheless with tightening cloud-base rotation, looking like it could produce a tornado.
While awaiting storm formation, our lunch had been at the Runza in Sidney–the one on the hilltop by I-80. Now it seemed suddenly like I had the Runza. This was an emergency situation. My ass felt like Mt. Pinatubo in T-minus two-minute mode. The danger was real that I would explode all over the driver’s seat of the Meatwagon. I couldn’t stand it anymore…painful, grinding spasms…and we had to exit I-80 and find *somewhere* in a town with no open gas stations or convenience stores. Even the bar was closed.
Fortunately, I happened upon a garage, threw the Meatwagon into park, bolted straight in past the startled mechanic, said a few desperate words of explanation that I don’t even recall, then slammed the latrine door shut for an experience eerily reminiscent of that copilot. The supercell could have been dropping a big fat tornado at that moment, and I didn’t care. I had other stuff to drop.
Fortunately the supercell was not tornadic then or ever (here it was about 20 minutes later). On the way out I threw a few bucks on the mechanic’s counter and apologized for the aroma. Best money I ever spent on a restroom…
And yes, I do like Runza and have eaten at various outlets since.