West
side Weekly
|
|
FRIDAY, MARCH 3RD, 2000
In the Air & On the Air with
Jennifer York
|
KTLA's Jennifer York can't stand traffic, so she works
around - and above - it
At the same time most of Los Angeles groggily awakens
to buzzing alarm clocks, Jennifer York puts on her lipstick - while hovering
1,000 feet above L.A. "I am up in the sky before my newspaper is delivered
and Starbucks has opened," York, 37, said calmly on a recent morning while
sipping on a cup of coffee from 7-Eleven. Five days a week before dawn
breaks, she is "sky bound" in a helicopter launched from Van Nuys Airport.
As the airship prepares for takeoff, she gives the pilot directions for
the "KTLA Morning News" traffic report. York circles the Southland each
morning from the northern tip of the San Fernando Valley to the southern
point of Orange County. On this rain-swept day, the vibrating Aerospeciale
350-B - called Skycam 5 - lifted into the clouds and cut across the Sepulveda
Pass. Streaking red and white highway lights glimmered on the wet windshield.
As the chopper approached the south 405 at
La Tijera Boulevard, a flood of red lights illuminated
the freeway below. |
Jen puts on some last minute
makeup.
|
"There it is," she cried as she slipped
on a pair of eyeglasses. "We are looking at least a five-mile backup."
Throwing back her hair, York adjusted her head-phones and microphone. The
KTLA morning broadcast resounded in the tiny air cabin. "Jenny, you're
hot." a voice from the KTLA ground news desk warned York she was live.
The monitor showed a live shot of the SigAlert causing the traffic below.
At 5:30 a.m., York cautioned viewers to "be safe on the wet roads." With
the aid of freeway maps, she sent advice from a bird's eye view on alternate
freeway routes. From her moving perch in the sky, York looks for
offramps, center dividers and pavement color to help differentiate the
chaotic coiling freeway system congesting the grid city of Los Angeles.
"I visualize Los Angeles from air," York said. "Each freeway has a distinct
character." A good flight record Of course, there are perks of flying above
the congestion of traffic bound city. York happily admits enjoying the
early morning hours because she doesn't touch traffic. In fact, she steers
her entire life clear of traffic: York plans all business and personal
meetings around the traffic flow. "My job is a product of the '90s and
Los Angeles's expanding borders and shrinking freeways," she said. The
10-year veteran airborne graduating from UCLA, she gained her wings as
a Metro Traffic air reporter for KFWB-AM (980).
Since 1991, York has been launching before the rush hour
grind begins. And her KTLA broadcast concludes as peak traffic commuters
approach the office. During her decade in the air, the veteran airborne
reporter has noted changes in rush hour. Congestion in no longer a 7 to
9 a.m. crunch. Rush hour pounds the freeways at 6 a.m. and continues its
pulsating flow to 10:30 a.m. Nonstop flying for four hours can make York
feel like a "caged animal." On the ground, York works out many mornings
at 2:30 a.m. to drain her energy before work. She also grounds herself
with music, playing for an all-female jazz group, the York Quartet. She
loves to strum an electronic and acoustic bass guitar. But in the air,
she finds simple pleasures in stopping in a local airport for a coffee
break. When traffic is minimal, the crew likes to zoom out to the ocean
at 120 mph to catch a glimpse of the Westside coastline at sunrise. The
lush green rolling hills of the rich and famous also pique their curiosity.
Dropping in at 900 feet above Hollywood and Beverly Hills paints a panoramic
view of dwarfed red-roof mansions, tennis courts, long circular brick driveways
and pools that glisten like blue jewels. Below, the morning city lights
emanated a soft amber hue. Los Angeles disguised in the night appeared
innocuous. The deep navy tumultuous sky screened the beams of sun breaking
through to daylight. |
The Twin Towers
|
We interrupt this broadcast... The downside of helicopter
reporting? There is no bathroom on board. At 6 a.m., without a shake of
shame, York informed the pilot she needed to make a pit stop. Within minutes
the airship landed in El Monte's airport. The facility resembled
a desert rest area toilet. Simple and dirty, but it was good enough. Racing
across the tarmac in the dark, the field reporter ducked beneath the propellers
spinning in force. Boarding the chopper York caught a glimpse of the Wescam
monitor. "Deja vu? An instant replay rolled across the screen with
a subtitle reading "bathroom break?" The Wescam mounted in a glass bubble
on the nose of the chopper films any outside action. The crew laughed as
the navigator prepares their next broadcast. Earning high praise Safety,
teamwork and communication run the air show. York's
crew is mainly concerned with capturing the visual elements of her
reports. "We make sure Jennifer has no worries and she is comfortable,"
said pilot Hanyo Kell, 33. After all, Kell and cameraman Sam Lafoca said
in unison: "She is the princess of traffic." York tunes into nine
air traffic frequencies. A flurry of traffic accidents across the Southland
buzzed in her headphones around 7 a.m. She furiously scribbled on a clipboard
transcribing traffic trouble spots. Skycam 5 gives an element of "immediacy"
to traffic reporting in widespread Los Angeles. "We can be there 10 times
faster," York said. A commute from PCH to downtown by ground without
traffic is 40 minutes versus an eight-minute chopper jaunt. "In Skycam
5 we are on top of the action," she said. But the airborne reporter admits
losing the human element on a breaking news story. She cannot interview
witnesses or a neighbor involved in a crime scene. "At a breaking news
shooting scene, we can't taste, smell or see the blood," she said. York
has covered the obvious high-speed car pursuits and also mother nature's
earthquakes, floods and fires. York recalls flying 18-hour days during
the Malibu fires in 1993. The crew dropped from the air only to take time
to "hot fuel" - refueling with the engine running. Circling for hours in
thick black clouds of smoke, York said they used the chopper lights and
radio communication for a sense of direction. "It was pitch black. We didn't
even know what time of day it was," she said. "Malibu looked like a mass
exodus from the Bible." York's audience praised her and many wrote
letters describing her reports as "their saving grace." |
Living the "Night Life", through
Jen's Eyes
|
"I reassure people. I try and calm them instead of provoking
fear,' she said. A lighthearted altitude Funny stories abound. Like the
time York and her crew popped in on a man who spent the night in his office.
"He was in his underwear stretching in front of his office window on the
30th floor," she giggled. "I always say if you see our rudder blades, we
can see your navel." As she finished telling her story, York received word
from the ground news desk to "wrap it up." She stretched back in the co-pilot
chair as the chopper headed back to the landing pad. The journey is different
everyday, she said. Her work day lands to a close at 10 a.m. She drives
home on afreeway clear of traffic and picks up the morning paper on the
way. As most of Los
Angeles is getting their workday started; York's is ending. "Everyone
in L.A. should
have a helicopter," she said with a sly smile.
|
|