Radio Free Montone: Just The Facts...
By John Montone, 1010 WINS
There are mornings on this job when I swear I can hear the gravely voice and staccato delivery of Sgt. Joe Friday, "Just the facts…"
And then I begin to think, the facts alone won't cut it. Or more precisely they won't cut through all the other noise. And that's when I need my heart and brain to stop pulling against each other and work as a team.
This past Wednesday was one such morning. The facts of the Metro-North crash are horrifying. An SUV at a railroad crossing ripped apart by the speeding Harlem Line train, the electrified third rail ripped from the tracks by the violent collision, piercing the first passenger car creating a fireball that exploded and incinerated at least five passengers and seriously injured many more. And if we needed a dose of philosophy we had Governor Cuomo speaking about, "…how precious life is and how random it can be."
And yet, it wasn't enough.
"This is a placid place," I reported. I wanted our 1010 WINS listeners to quickly understand the area, "…a stretch of Harlem Line tracks through the woods that became in an instant a scene of fire and death." What it was and what it became.
There is an ancient Latin prayer that begins, "In the midst of life, we are in death." It is a haunting thought. Death lurks. It is always a split second removed from our lives. And while that may seem morbid, it happens to be true. But it is a bit too, as the hippies used to say, "heavy."
So I said in another LIVE report, "Death came suddenly, violently at this railroad crossing on a wooded stretch of tracks." From tranquility to horror.
Just the facts! Shouted my brain. The human touch! Demanded my heart. These are living, loving human beings, not numbers.
Flesh and blood! How many dead? How many hurt? Why did the electrified third rail come out of the ground and pierce the train car like a lightning bolt?
"In the midst of life…," cried my heart.
Listen: Radio Free Montone
I try to strike a balance. I try to think of the audience in their kitchens and cars, walking with ear buds tuned in on the stream. What do they even need from those like me who are their witnesses? Just the facts? The human touch? Some magical mix?
I've been doing this a very long time and I'm still not sure. All I can do on the saddest mornings is trust my instincts.
