Cause of Death: Shark Attack

Amity resident Alex Kintner was killed in what appears to have been a shark attack. He was playing in the waters of Village Beach this afternoon around 2 when the attack occurred.

His body has not been recovered, but his raft floated ashore shortly after the incident with what seems to be a large bite taken out of it.

The mangled body of local teen Chrissie Watson was found washed up on South Beach this morning. An autopsy is underway to determine the origins of the attacker and the police are investigating the incident.

Watson was last seen alive leaving a beach party with former island resident Christopher P. Hoggenbottam III around 11 p.m. on Sunday. According to Hoggenbottam, Watson decided to go swimming and entered the water near the South Beach Shoal bell buoy. Hoggenbottam notified police around 6 a.m. when she  did not return from her swim.

           

Watson, 17, was a member of Amity High School’s varsity swim team and a lifeguard at the Amity  Island YMCA pool. Witnesses told police that the two teens had been drinking and possibly smoking marijuana during the evening.

A special meeting will be held today at 6 p.m. in Town Hall. The mayor, the Amity Board of Selectmen and the police chief will be there to discuss the matter.

An investigation is pending regarding the connection of the two deaths.  

What is Truth?

           On Facebook (the best source of news ever!) someone posted a video where they interviewed people that went to the Coachella Music Festival about fake bands. The people talked about these bands as if they knew who they were, even though they don’t exist. One of the comments on the post said how the videos could have been dubbed over, as in the attendees’ interviews could have been real but the questions were different (asking about actual bands). And whether this is real or fake isn’t the interesting thin. It’s the fact that these things have come into question.

            The sheer possibility that it can happen is quite mind-blowing. We have so much amazing technology today that anything and everything can be manipulated. It was funny because the thought that the video could have been altered didn’t even occur to me. This got me thinking: what else has been altered that I’ve seen or heard? How do we know what’s real and what isn’t? What is truth? Somehow a Facebook post got me thinking about such profound questions. But it’s important to think and to question everything. That’s what we as journalists must do. 

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

            Of course as a journalist I should comment on the recent Boston tragedy. To be honest, I don’t know much about it. But that’s because I haven’t sought out the information. I’m not a big fan of politics or the news, so all I’ve heard about it is what’s on Facebook and what my friends have told me. But even with this I know a fair amount, because that’s the nature of newsworthy things. Even without journalists people would hear about what goes on in the world. News travels through the channel of human interaction as naturally as water flows in a river. But I suppose the purpose of journalism is to do it better, faster and more efficiently.

            It is these principles that were called into question concerning the coverage of the Boston bombing. Misinformation, conspiracy theories and false accusations littered news outlets. Twitter blew up, Facebook blew up and at first no one knew what was going on. It’s hard to know what is fact and what is fiction. Which leads me to my next blog post. 

Many years later, a carillon--miniature bells played with a keyboard, with the music broadcast via speakers--was the center of yet another bell tower controversy. The carillon had been given to UNH in 1952 to honor the late "Dad" Henderson, longtime UNH registrar. Soon after it was installed in Thompson Hall, former UNH News Bureau Director L. Franklin ("Frank") Heald '39 began playing the carillon as a favor to Irving Bartley, a music professor. When called upon, Heald would walk up one flight of stairs, and play the noontime concert. Appointed the official UNH carillonneur in 1982, Heald continued to select the music, which by then was played by a computerized 246-bell system located in the Elliott Alumni Center and broadcast through eight speakers in the Thompson Hall tower. He also fended off complaints about the volume--since affection for the carillon seems to be inversely proportional to distance from it. (One nearby listener describes the volume as "decibels beyond reason.")

But complaints of a different sort came to a head in 1992. Some faculty and students felt it was inappropriate for a state university to broadcast Christian hymns across campus, and then-president Dale Nitzschke silenced the music while a committee studied the issue. A media storm ensued. Heald, who has a puckish sense of humor (he often wears a chef's hat when presenting alumni office staff with birthday gifts of his home-baked bread), was astonished by the furor. "I've played the carillon for 40 years, and I never received the attention that I have received in the last week for not playing it," Heald quipped at the time. Many wrote Heald to express their support. "The bells remind us of home," one alumna wrote.

Heald took the position that the carillon should play examples of the best music of all kinds. After 11 days, a compromise was reached. "Onward Christian Soldiers" was banished: other hymns, including the Alma Mater (to the tune of "Lead On, O King Eternal") stayed. The carillon music resumed.

Brooke McMullen is a freshman communication sciences and disorders major and a previous Boston Marathon runner. McMullen was running for the Best Buddies team, a non-profit organization that works with individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities. As McMullen got to the starting line on Monday, however, she realized she had a problem.

“So, for the past week I have been limping with quadriceps muscle strain, but I wasn’t going to let the injury stop me after all the hard work,” McMullen said. “Even as I was walking to the start line I was in a lot of pain, and 26.2 miles seemed a bit farfetched.”

McMullen ran for nine miles on an injured foot before her coach saw that she was limping. He then picked up and carried her on his back for another mile to meet up with McMullen’s family.

 “My family and friends were waiting for me at Natick Center, and planned to cheer me on several stops along the marathon route, but once they saw the condition I was in we took off,” McMullen said. “In the car, I argued that I wanted to at least walk the last mile so I could be there to support the rest of my team, but when we stopped the car to use the restroom I fell out of the car and couldn’t hold myself up.”

Her family took her to the Newton Wellesley Hospital to be examined. The coverage of the bombing came on TV as she was waiting in the emergency room.

“It was devastating to see such a terrible thing happen in Boston, with so many runners, children, staff, and families affected,” McMullen said. “I am so unbelievably thankful that I was in the hospital with the ones I love and not at the finish line, because if I wasn’t injured, that would have been my intended finish time.”

42 Flavors: Almond Joy, Black Raspberry, Brownie Batter, Butter Pecan, Butterscotch Vanilla, Cake Batter, Camp Coffee, Caramel Caribou, Cherry Amaretto Chip, Cherry Vanilla, Chocolate, Chocolate Chip, Choc Lovers Choc, Choc Rainforest Crunch, Cookie Dough, Cookies N' Cream, Deer Tracks, Disappearing Bubblegum, French Vanilla, Graham Central, Grape-nuts w/Vanilla, Maine Black Bear, Maine Deer Tracks, Maine Lobster Tracks, Maine Maple Walnut, Maine Wild Blueberry, Mint Chocolate Chip, Moose Tracks, Muddy Bean Boots, Old Fashioned Vanilla, Pnt Btr Crml Cookie Dough, Peanut Butter Cup, Pink Peppermint Stick, Pistachio Nut, Quarterback Crunch, Smurf (Cotton Candy), Strawberry, Strawberry Cheesecake, Toasted Coconut, Vanilla Bean, Cappuccino Yogurt and Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup Yogurt.

The carillon was given to UNH in 1952 to honor the late "Dad" Henderson, longtime UNH registrar. Former UNH News Bureau Director L. Franklin "Frank" Herald began playing the carillon in 1982.

Speakers Speak, Students Listen and Learn

            Chris Outcalt is a good journalist. Not that I have much experience but from what I have read of his writing, he’s pretty good. His articles are interesting--I read all one million pages of his Murder in Vale piece--and he seems like he has a lot of knowledge to offer.

            I thoroughly enjoyed class the day that he came to speak. It really brought everything we’ve been learning into focus. It made me realize that these things actually apply to our future careers as professional journalists and that the skills we develop now will be useful later on.

            Chris brought up an interesting point. He talked about all the internships he’s done and how they have led to jobs and it made me think about my future and how I should be preparing for it. I need to be lining up internships and writing articles and reading articles and…………….so many things. It almost made me panic because I feel like I am not doing enough. But it was very beneficial to see what a successful journalist has done, is doing and will do. 

There is no me in article but there is an i

            I’ve learned that you’re not supposed to put yourself into your articles, that a journalist should write about a subject and not get involved. Opinions = bad. But when is it appropriate? Obviously opinion pieces will be full of--you guessed it--opinions, but what about everything else? Where is the line?

            I personally dislike not being able to put myself in my pieces. I feel like I’m not even a part of them. I am the writer, the one choosing which words to use, where to put quotes and when to hit the return key, but I still don’t feel like I’m involved. How is one supposed to stay removed enough to maintain the focus on your subject, but involved enough to instill life and personality into an article?

            I especially struggle with this because I normally write poems and song lyrics, so I am used to including my own thoughts and perspectives into my writing. The switch to this more removed sort of writing style is hard for me, but I am getting used to it. Perhaps it’s just a matter of balance, or it goes on a piece-by-piece basis. 

Leopard Reported Missing

Danger! Danger! Leopard missing!


This morning zookeepers at the Durham Zoo discovered that their rare spotted leopard had apparently gone missing. A search of the zoo grounds is underway, but the leopard may have left the area and be walking through Durham.


“We will first search every inch of this zoo,” said Police Chief William Blair. “If possible, Fluffy will be shot with a tranquilizer gun. But if necessary, we will shoot to kill.”


The 10-year-old Romanian spotted leopard---whose name is Fluffy--is black with white spots, weighs 146 pounds and can run 60 miles per hour. A rare breed of leopard, it is the only known female spotted leopard in existence. Its kind was driven to the brink of extinction in Romania due to its appetite for children under 8 years old.
 

"Fluffy is a wonderful, warm, gentle cat who has never hurt anyone," said the zoo's chief zoologist, Kitty Smith. "But if these cats are cornered--or encountered on a dark night or in a dark alley--their defense is to kill, and to kill quickly."


If you encounter the leopard, the best course of action is to avoid eye contact at all costs and to slowly drop to the ground, go limp and lay still. Fluffy may sniff and lick you, but she is not likely to react violently unless she senses fear.


The Durham Police, in addition to the New Hampshire State Police and the State Wildlife Department, are scouring every inch of the zoo in order to find the leopard. If their search is futile, they will begin to search the neighborhood—moving farther and farther away from the zoo.

 
“We are concerned because this is a residential neighborhood with an elementary school and many daycare centers and we don’t want Fluffy wandering around after the kids get out of school,” said Blair.


Their goal is to find her by 2 p.m. before schools let out for the day. If this does not happen, it could be a “very messy night”, according to Blair. Leopards have excellent night vision and to combat this advantage, the National Guard is supplying five helicopters with infrared sensors.


“We’re gonna find this cat if it kills us,” said Blair.
 

Finding Fluffy is a must because not only is she a threat to the public, but she is also loved among the zoo workers and the Durham community.


“We love that cat, and we don’t want to lose her,” said zoo director Gerry Durrell.
 

Fellow Fluffy fan James Petronkis is equally upset. A resident of Newmarket, he comes to the zoo every day in order to see Fluffy. When he arrived this morning at 9:30, everything seemed normal. But once he got to the cage, he could tell that something was wrong.


“Fluffy usually draws the straw up into a nest when she sleeps,” said Petronkis, “but there was no nest—there wasn’t even any straw.”


Petronkis claims that he told the guard and was told to mind his own business. To get the attention of the zoo workers, he pulled the fire alarm. After a half hour in which nothing happened, Petronkis told them again. When they checked the cage, they discovered that the leopard was missing and, as Petronkis puts it, “all hell broke loose.”

 
Police flocked to the scene and visitors were pushed toward the exits. Petronkis hid behind a building to witness the events unfolding.

 

“Cops with guns drawn were everywhere,” he said. “People were screaming. It sounded like a thousand cars squealing their tires. It was mayhem.”

 

According to Durrell, they immediately noticed Fluffy’s absence when they opened the zoo this morning at 9:30. The door was shut and did not appear to be altered. The fencing was unbroken and everything seemed normal at the time. Fluffy was last seen in her cage last night at 9 o’clock.

 

“We have no idea what time Fluffy escaped or where she went,” said Durrell, who teared up while speaking to reporters. “We are doing everything we can to find her and bring her back.”

 

 

Coming Down to the Wire

            Spring is a season that arrives and then is gone. It is an in-between time that separates winter from summer. Everything--the whole world aka every college ever aka UNH--is gearing up for summer vacation. Exams, projects, papers, graduations, internships, jobs, travelling. It’s all very crazy. Students are trying to raise their grades, do extra credit and generally making sure they don’t f*** up.

            My problem (wow I sure have a lot of them, don’t I?) is that we only have a few weeks left in which to complete all our articles. I’ve been pretty good about satisfying the requirements (profile, TNH, meeting etc.) but I have my local issue story to do and also my pass to use. I don’t know if anyone can answer this question, but do we have a story do on the last day of class (May 6)?

            If we do, there are three articles left; if not, there are two. That means there is not a lot of room for messing around. I definitely need to do my local issue story for next week and I am starting to feel the pressure to fit everything into this little slot we like to call Finals Month. Okay, I just made that up but it is fitting. Everyone I have talked to has a ridiculous amount of work to do and I’m pretty sure it’s not going to let up until school has finished.

            Let’s do this! 

Registration Problems

           When the bitter hand of winter lightens its grasp on the UNH campus and warm days tempt students with the promise of summer, you know what’s coming. It is that time of year again, ladies and gentlemen. Registration time.

            I, personally, find a certain amount of pleasure in choosing my classes. Making one’s schedule is akin to solving a puzzle. It can be complex and challenging, but in the end--when all the pieces have fallen into place--it is ever so satisfying.

            It is usually this way for me, but Fall 2013 is quickly becoming the most difficult puzzle yet. This is due to one reason: Advanced Newswriting, also known as ENGL 622. You see, I have to take this class next semester because it is a prerequisite for just about every other journalism class. The class in itself (not that I know of at least) is not the problem. The problem is that it is only offered on Thursdays from 9:40 to 11:30. Oddly enough, this two hour period conflicts with all the other classes that I was thinking about taking.

            Why?????????

            Good-bye interesting English classes that I so wanted to take.

            I guess that’s what happens when you get older. As you progress in your college career, there are less classes that you need to take and less time to take them. I am also studying abroad next spring, so I have to take certain classes before I am a senior.

            Obviously this is not a huge problem, but it is annoying.

            Looks like I’m stuck with Intro to Puppetry.

            

The Not So Scary New Hampshire

            I went to a TNH meeting! Yay me. Yes this is another post about TNH.

            It was really weird. To say the least.

            I practically ran there from the gym (red-faced and pony tail whipping back and forth) but I made it on time. All I knew about this endeavor was the time, the room and that I had to be there for my journalism class. Other than that, I didn’t know what to expect.            

            It was oddly informal. An oval table in a room in the MUB, chairs scattered about and people trailing in at random. I thought it would be more like a court hearing, all tense silence and strict guidelines. It was in the sense that writers were on one side and editors were on another but other than that it was fairly relaxed. To start, we went around the room and said our names and major. In addition there was an icebreaker: which UNH Facebook page do you like the best? Most people said UNH Confessions (understandably so), but the interesting thing was that this icebreaker actually did what it was supposed to do: it broke the ice. People started talking about funny posts they had seen on the pages and in no time it was like a normal college kid conversation. All laughs and that’s what she said jokes.

            After we had gotten back on topic, each editor introduced their pitches and tossed them onto the table. I didn’t know how people would get their stories but I did not expect that it would just be a free-for-all. When everyone had pitched their stories, it was pretty much like “Go!” Everyone started grabbing papers and it was first come first serve.

            In conclusion, those TNH people are cray.

           

A Ride Through the Town

            I just went to my friend’s concert and as I was listening to him play, I thought about writing (per usual). If I had to write a story in the half hour that I was there, what would I write about? (As a disclaimer I would like to include the fact that I had recently finished my article and so was still in the crazy journalistic mode where all I can think about is writingwritingwritingwriting.) There was a game on the television, the bands strumming along on the stage, the odd-looking teenagers playing pool. Any of those could be the subject of an article or several articles depending on what angle you use.

            Once you get in the mode of constantly thinking about what you could write an article about, it becomes addicting. Everything is a possible topic and your mind becomes a whirlwind of interviews, word counts, inverted pyramids and delayed leads. For instance when we were driving back from the concert, I was still pondering all of this.

            Cue paragraph of intensely profound reflection.

            As the car makes its way through the streets of Boston, I realized something: the world is pretty damn huge. There’s so many people to meet, so many places to go, so many things to see. There should be no shortage of stories to write. Just in this one city there are endless possibilities. The past, the present, the future. An ongoing string of time. An ongoing string of consciousness. Everything existing all at once.