Jim Cantore
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seaswing
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Jim Cantore
Is in South Beach already!
Last edited by seaswing on Wed Aug 24, 2005 7:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Posted on Thu, Aug. 25, 2005
TV weather guy blows into town
By NICHOLAS SPANGLER
nspangler@herald.com
A storm is coming. Huge violently orange storm blobs have appeared on television, threatening to engulf the entire state. The anchormen have stopped telling each other jokes, but read urgent messages about schools closing and Red Cross centers opening.
And now Jim Cantore has shown up. He was spotted Wednesday in South Beach wearing Oakleys and a sweat-wicking black muscle shirt.
You may have seen him on Storm Stories, The Weather Channel show about very, very bad storms and the people who live to talk about them. You may have seen him -- years before The Weather Channel got into docudrama -- reporting on Andrew or Fran, Bonnie, Georges, any number of ice storms and blizzards and tornado outbreaks.
Cantore is 41, a bona fide weather star who appears nightly in front of millions. He is the commando version of Willard Scott. He is an athletic, powerfully built guy who could kill Willard Scott in hand-to-hand combat, if that ever came up.
Now he spread his feet wide and talked to someone back at Atlanta. ``I'll bring up Francis, Irene, even '99. There are a lot of uncertainties. I can go into cases where people were unprepared. Yeah. Yeah. Basically, it's a nonconvective storm. Maybe a two or a three. But caught off-guard, there's a possibility of massive flooding, even wind damage with gradient wind.''
Atlanta mulled this over, and Cantore removed his earpiece. ''My job is getting people out of harm's way,'' he said. ``I don't care if it's a thunderstorm in Pocatello, Idaho. That's the bus I rode in on, that's the bus I ride out on. But I do feel like a rock star, sometimes.''
''There's a following,'' said William Rembert, the cameraman. ``It took a while to get like that, though.''
''It's amazing,'' said Simon Temperton, Cantore's producer. ``Anywhere we go there are groupies. We were just in Punta Gorda -- there were two, three hundred people there with shirts, hats and T-shirts for him to sign. There was a guy who gave him cannoli.''
The groupies were elsewhere now. Some kids were running around, trying to get on camera. A woman in a bikini walked by, and Cantore gave her a military salute. Unfortunately, Atlanta cued soon after. Cantore spread his feet again and looked evenly into the camera.
''It was a beautiful day here on South Beach,'' he said. ''But dark skies are looming and rainfall is rolling in --'' he paused here, and raised his eyebrows ``-- compliments of Katrina.''
He rattled off some rainfall statistics from memory and tossed back to Atlanta. Another woman in a bikini walked by; Cantore saw an opportunity for some B-roll.
She was a beautiful tourist from Paris with limited command of English. Nevertheless, would she and her very fortunate boyfriend like to talk about the storm?
``Oh no, thank you, I am not sure I understand your questions.''
But surely, you've heard of the storm headed this way?
``Yes, I have heard about it. I am not scared.''
But are you concerned it might affect your flight out of Miami?
``Yes.''
''Give me that,'' said Temperton, the producer, grabbing the microphone. ''We'll never get anything done like this.'' He stomped off with cameraman Rembert to find appropriately fearful beachgoers.
Cantore suffered this with equanimity. Possibly he did not even notice. ''Weather,'' he said, ``is the one thing we cannot control. There's no shot, no pill, to control it. It comes and it goes and takes what it wants, when it wants. That's what the drama is, for me. It's a reality show called weather.''
TV weather guy blows into town
By NICHOLAS SPANGLER
nspangler@herald.com
A storm is coming. Huge violently orange storm blobs have appeared on television, threatening to engulf the entire state. The anchormen have stopped telling each other jokes, but read urgent messages about schools closing and Red Cross centers opening.
And now Jim Cantore has shown up. He was spotted Wednesday in South Beach wearing Oakleys and a sweat-wicking black muscle shirt.
You may have seen him on Storm Stories, The Weather Channel show about very, very bad storms and the people who live to talk about them. You may have seen him -- years before The Weather Channel got into docudrama -- reporting on Andrew or Fran, Bonnie, Georges, any number of ice storms and blizzards and tornado outbreaks.
Cantore is 41, a bona fide weather star who appears nightly in front of millions. He is the commando version of Willard Scott. He is an athletic, powerfully built guy who could kill Willard Scott in hand-to-hand combat, if that ever came up.
Now he spread his feet wide and talked to someone back at Atlanta. ``I'll bring up Francis, Irene, even '99. There are a lot of uncertainties. I can go into cases where people were unprepared. Yeah. Yeah. Basically, it's a nonconvective storm. Maybe a two or a three. But caught off-guard, there's a possibility of massive flooding, even wind damage with gradient wind.''
Atlanta mulled this over, and Cantore removed his earpiece. ''My job is getting people out of harm's way,'' he said. ``I don't care if it's a thunderstorm in Pocatello, Idaho. That's the bus I rode in on, that's the bus I ride out on. But I do feel like a rock star, sometimes.''
''There's a following,'' said William Rembert, the cameraman. ``It took a while to get like that, though.''
''It's amazing,'' said Simon Temperton, Cantore's producer. ``Anywhere we go there are groupies. We were just in Punta Gorda -- there were two, three hundred people there with shirts, hats and T-shirts for him to sign. There was a guy who gave him cannoli.''
The groupies were elsewhere now. Some kids were running around, trying to get on camera. A woman in a bikini walked by, and Cantore gave her a military salute. Unfortunately, Atlanta cued soon after. Cantore spread his feet again and looked evenly into the camera.
''It was a beautiful day here on South Beach,'' he said. ''But dark skies are looming and rainfall is rolling in --'' he paused here, and raised his eyebrows ``-- compliments of Katrina.''
He rattled off some rainfall statistics from memory and tossed back to Atlanta. Another woman in a bikini walked by; Cantore saw an opportunity for some B-roll.
She was a beautiful tourist from Paris with limited command of English. Nevertheless, would she and her very fortunate boyfriend like to talk about the storm?
``Oh no, thank you, I am not sure I understand your questions.''
But surely, you've heard of the storm headed this way?
``Yes, I have heard about it. I am not scared.''
But are you concerned it might affect your flight out of Miami?
``Yes.''
''Give me that,'' said Temperton, the producer, grabbing the microphone. ''We'll never get anything done like this.'' He stomped off with cameraman Rembert to find appropriately fearful beachgoers.
Cantore suffered this with equanimity. Possibly he did not even notice. ''Weather,'' he said, ``is the one thing we cannot control. There's no shot, no pill, to control it. It comes and it goes and takes what it wants, when it wants. That's what the drama is, for me. It's a reality show called weather.''
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