Posted on September 20, 2017
UPDATE 10/14/18 This man is still harassing women in local news. If you have any information on him- numbers, emails, screenshots- please send them my way. Thanks. He may go by a different name now.
I got a phone call last Thursday I wasn’t too surprised to receive.
It was a serial harasser who targets female journalists.
My phone buzzed, the word “Unknown” flashing up on the screen. I hesitated before picking up- who answers an Unknown call?
“Hi, Ellen,” the man said. “This is Chris from NBC. I found your reel online.”
My reporter reel was on Youtube with my email and phone number. I asked him which station he was with, and where he was located. He told me New York City, at their national station.
The man sounded like he was in his late 20s, early 30s- a little awkward, a little nervous.
It did not sound like the voice of an NBC job recruiter. And generally, job offers don’t come from Unknown numbers.
At that point, I knew it was him.
I told him I was busy and I’d call him back tomorrow- but I needed his number. Oddly enough, his phone wasn’t working properly- he would call me.
He hasn’t called.
Here’s the thing. “Chris” isn’t really Chris. He’s also Tom. And Mike. And Jason.
He says he’s from NBC. CBS. GMA.
Because those are all names and networks used by a man who calls female journalists and harasses them. And most likely, it’s all one man.
I first heard about “Chris” after seeing several posts on a Facebook group:
I’ve seen dozens of these stories- same setup, same structure. As I searched through posts and asked around, I found warnings about him going back to 2015.
Three years of making women feel simultaneously violated and stupid- which I’m sure is what he wants. For someone to commit to harassing women for three years straight in this very specific manner is some next-level dedication.
While phone calls are his normal method, it looks like “Chris” sometimes emails people- and some women heard from him through both mediums.
I want to make something very clear:
This man is most likely using an alias. There are a lot of Chris Burke’s out there, and there’s nothing to suggest he’s any one of them. Please don’t harass them. As time goes on, he’ll probably switch to a different name.
Now armed with his email address, I reached out.
He never responded to my email, but he did call me once more. When I started asking too many questions- where was he located; what was his name- he hung up.
And that’s where I am. Struggling to connect a name and a face to a man who spends years harassing women. Right now, an email and a voice is all I have.
If you’re a woman in TV and have a reel out there- heads up.
For more about harassment in local news, you can read my full piece, “Eye Candy: The Harassment in Local News You Don’t See”.
(NOTE: I did not record our phone conversation. While Oregon is a “one-party consent” state, I have no idea where Chris is located. It may be in a “two-party consent” state, meaning he could push legal action on me if I recorded him without his knowledge.)
Posted on August 30, 2017
Last summer, I stood in front of the biggest fire I’ve ever seen in my life and talked about it on live television. And then I ate a handful of mixed nuts meant for farm animals.
It was a hot July evening in Oregon, but a late summer wind stirred the thick heat. I was at KVAL News, the television station I work for. It’s a little building perched up on a steep hill in the south of Eugene. The evening news shows were underway, and I was planning to slip away from the newsroom soon to enjoy the summer night- which in Oregon means sitting on a patio for 3 hours and drinking beer.
Summer is not only beer season in Oregon- it’s also fire season. The hot, dry snap of a Pacific Northwest summer mixed with blustery wind is the perfect cocktail for a stray, fiery spark from machinery; or for a forgotten cigarette butt left in the woods, to erupt into something catastrophic.
So it wasn’t a shock when we heard some chatter on our police and fire radio scanner that there was a fire out in Junction City, about 20 miles away.
Our newsroom has the luxury of an amazing view- one of the positives to being up on one of the highest hills in South Eugene. As I walked into the newsroom, I noticed people craning their necks, looking out windows. A few opened the front door, peering up at the sky. Someone aimed our station tower camera in the direction of Junction City.
A massive plume of smoke pooled into the sky, miles away, curling and billowing in the late day sun. It looked like a huge, fluffy cloud rising up from the earth.
Bounds Hay Company, a huge hay exporting company in Junction City, was on fire– and I was tapped to go.
I zipped up an oversized caution vest that made me look like I was wearing an orange plastic bag, and then tore out of the parking lot. It was a 30 minute drive, but I followed the smoke to my destination- a yawning field of fire, lighting up the charcoal remains of a building in smoldering flames. Up close, it was vomiting thick, black smoke into the sky.
I turned onto the road that ran parallel to the farm and found myself facing a fire truck barricade yards down the road. I spotted a few other cars parked on a field nearby and veered onto a bumpy dirt farm road.
People gawked at the fire from the field I parked in. I stood next to them, gawking through my camera lens and almost knee-deep in dry, itchy grass. I was still relatively far away- aka, the correct, safe distance someone should be away from a massive factory on fire.
Obviously, I needed to get closer.
I noticed a firefighter sitting in his dusty car out on the road. He rolled down his window as I stepped up to the truck.
“How close can I get?” I asked. My camera was in one hand, tripod in the other- purse slung over one shoulder. I looked like a pack mule.
He looked at the fire, considering it. “We’re worried there could be some explosions, so…I’d recommend staying here.”
“Am I allowed to get closer?”
He gave me a look that suggested I wasn’t that bright. “I wouldn’t advise it.”
I did get closer, because his suggested assessment of me was potentially correct. A reporter from another station and I walked further into the field- the flames getting brighter; the shimmering air getting hotter- until we found a fire chief who assured us we weren’t going to be caught in an explosion anytime soon. Whew.
Miraculously, and thankfully, no one was hurt in the fire- but there was more than a million dollars in damage done to the property, with about one-thousand tons of hay burned up to a crisp.
Thankfully, the fire chief understood our reporterly desire to get closer to the fire. He was going to let us follow him…even closer to the fire.
A photographer I work with, Emily, met us before we left with the fire chief. We jumped into our news car and followed the chief down the long strip of road hugging the farm. I remember passing right by the massive wall of flames, feeling the car window get hot under my hand.
We turned a corner and suddenly we were off the road- wheels bumping on the hard dirt and tall grass. As we followed the chief’s big pickup truck, my eyes were wide.
We followed him into a field bordering the fire, jerking the wheel to avoid divots in the dirt that could mean bad news for our news car. The fire reared up on the horizon like a sunset, and the chief pulled his car to a stop about 200 feet away from the wall of flames.
We reached our destination.
I stepped out of the car, grass crunching under my feet. The sky was dark and a cool breeze picked up on the air, but the ambient heat of the fire kept us warm.
I thought I would be terrified standing next to a massive fire that could potentially light up the field I was standing on, but I was weirdly calm. The chief assured us it was safe, and I trusted him.
After hours of action and uncertainty, we were at a lull- this was our camp for now, the place we would go live from for the 11pm news. In the sudden stillness, the fire a dull roar behind me, I suddenly realized something…I was starving.
I hadn’t eaten anything in 12 hours, and for someone who is constantly eating, that is an impressive fasting period.
I asked Emily if she had any snacks. She frowned and thought for a moment, slowly shaking her head- and then, her face brightened.
“I think I have something!” She set down her camera gear and went to the car, rooting around in the backseat as my blood sugar continued to drop. I would’ve literally eaten the grass at that moment if I didn’t think it would’ve made me sick.
She ran back over, a big Ziploc bag of mixed nuts in her hand. At that moment, she looked like an angel sent from heaven.
I grabbed a handful and munched on them happily. Sweet, sweet sustenance. As we set up for our liveshot, chatting about nothing, I asked Emily if she kept the mixed nuts for emergencies.
“Oh,” she said, “I was actually on a story and I met a farmer. He gave them to me. He said he ordered the nuts for his pigs, but ended up not wanting to give the nuts to them. So I got them.”
I regarded the mixed nuts in my hand for a moment, unsure of how I should feel about eating mixed nuts originally meant for pigs. I wanted to be disgusted, but…they were so good, and I was so hungry.
“He said they’re fine for humans,” she added, probably noticing the sudden alarm plastered on my face.
While I appreciated the reassurance, at that point? I honestly didn’t care. Emily and I had tromped around in fields all day under the flickering eye of an ever-looming fire. I was dead tired, sunburned, and smelled like smoke. At that moment, those weird pig mixed nuts were a 5-course meal.
I grabbed another handful from the bag.
This is the first part of my new post series, “Things I Ate on Breaking News”. I’ll look back at some of the most impactful stories I’ve covered, and how I remember them through food.
Posted on August 14, 2017
The 2017 total solar eclipse is almost upon us! In about a week, the sun will experience a total eclipse of the heart.
The excitement continues to grow here in the great state of Oregon. Strangely enough, the “path of totality“, the area where one can see the full eclipse, hits both my alma mater, Clemson University, and my current state of residence!
Thousands of people are expected to crowd Oregon to catch a glimpse of this astronomical wonder. Government officials are preparing for a dwindling supply of gas, crowded campgrounds and lots of confused tourists. On the day of the eclipse, the estimated travel time between Portland and Salem is at 6 hours (it’s usually 1 hour). The eclipse is sure to be a monumental (if not stressful) event.
And what better way to celebrate the eclipse than to make a playlist for it! I’m a child of the 90s, this is the closest to a “2017 Eclipse Mixtape” I’ll ever get.
May I present to you my “Oregon Eclipse 2017 Playlist”. Jam out to these tunes as you don your protective glasses and experience totality.
Think I missed a song? Comment your eclipse song recommendations!
Posted on July 7, 2017
I’ve spent summers in the Mid-Atlantic, the South and the Midwest. But in my opinion, the Pacific Northwest does summer the best. I think all Oregonians have a dreadful, creeping thought in the back of their heads…we only get 3 months of this, so we better enjoy it.
I hosted a local food show, Tasty Tuesday, which allowed me to sample lots of different restaurants and food trucks throughout Eugene and Springfield. Here’s a breakdown of some cool spots to check out during Eugene’s fleeting summer months!
Posted on May 29, 2017
The Tamolitch Falls Blue Pool is remarkable.
A glance at the photo above, and you’ll understand why. It is literally a hidden gem on the McKenzie River Trail, a shimmering pool of brilliant, topaz water. You first come upon it from above- a sudden oasis in the forest around you, a shock of color against the rich green and brown of Oregon.
Another remarkable trait? The nickname. Blue Pool. So very to the point. I love it.
Blue Pool is part of the McKenzie River, but the pool is filled from underground. The river water flows up through ancient lava rock at the bottom of the pool, filling the basin.
The most popular way to get to the pool is a 2 mile hike from a trailhead that does not say it takes you to Blue Pool. The first time I visited the trail, someone tried to be helpful and stapled a piece of paper to a log. It said “BLUE POOL 2 MILES”. It kind of looked like a sign a criminal would use to try and trick someone into getting kidnapped. Still, it lead me the right way.
As you continue on the path, the ancient land shifts from soft dirt underfoot and towering trees, to craggy rock that threatens to trip you if you’re not careful. The air smells clean here, tinged with pine.
While the path changes, your companion of the roaring McKenzie River remains constant, following you all the way to the pool. At times, it’s churning rapids. Others moments, it’s a quiet, clear brook under a crude wood bridge, worn smooth by thousands of shoes.
Your first glimpse of Blue Pool will be from overhead. The path leads to a rocky overlook, abundant with large, flat stones- perfect makeshift seats. Look below and you’ll see the vast swatch of crystalline blue, sometimes peppered with people lounging on the right bank or scurrying along the rocks.
It is possible to reach the banks of the pool. The trek there involves light rock climbing, navigating heavy brush, and shimmying down a steep embankment to the pool.
Once at the bank, you’re treated to an up-close view of the shimmering water. On a hot day, after a two mile hike and crab-walk down a steep hill, it looks tantalizing. You have to jump in.
Blue Pool is cold. In early summer, it is truly, painfully cold. My friend and I entertained the idea of jumping in. We waded into the water- it felt like walking through a tub of melting ice. My feet started to hurt almost immediately. We decided to pass.
Some people do swim in the pool, later in the summer, but be careful if you do. According to Eugene, Cascades and Coast, the pool is a steady 37 degrees.
I settled for dipping my hair into the water, which sounds weird, but in retrospect was a fantastic idea. The extra cold water made my hair very soft. It felt like Mother Nature herself blessed me with fabulous hair.
An Important Note If You Use Google Maps to get to Blue Pool. Google Maps has Blue Pool listed as a destination, but that won’t get you to the most popular trailhead. Instead, when you’re on Highway 126, keep an eye out for a lefthand turn onto an unmarked road with an EWEB power station. On Google Maps, it’s marked as NF-730.
Oregon is somewhat funny in that way. One of the most spectacular natural wonders in the state, and the most popular way to get there remains unmarked and somewhat hidden. But I suppose there’s something exciting about a stunning secret hidden deep within one of Oregon’s forests.
You can find it- it just takes a little work.
Posted on May 16, 2017
I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll start with a comfortable phrase.
Time flies, doesn’t it?
It’s been about two years since I last posted on my blog, but that doesn’t mean I ever forgot about it. Rather, it’s been on my mind quite often- but every time I sat down to write a post, I found myself straying away, or losing interest. Sometimes, I was a little worried about what people would think of me- was I still good enough?
In college, my blog primarily featured my journalism- now, life is a little different. I’m a broadcast journalist. My work is featured on KVAL News in Eugene, Oregon. I report, I anchor newscasts and I have my own food show. Yes, I am incredibly lucky- I’m paid to eat and talk about food once a week!
I suppose what I’m trying to say is this: I’m hoping to revive this blog, but it will be a little different than before. I’m still trying to figure out what that entails- whether that’s snapshots of my life, my fiction writing, or something more.
Two years is a long time, as quickly as it seemed to pass. People change; things change; blogs change! But as scary as change can be, it can ignite new ideas and open up new paths.
Let’s see where those paths lead.
Posted on May 12, 2015
This is your intrepid blogger checking in to announce that I graduated from Clemson University on May 8th! I graduated Magna Cum Laude with a B.A. in Communication Studies and a minor in Political Science.
Although it bordered on 2 and a half hours, the graduation ceremony was very nice and well-organized. Around 3000 students graduated that day. Hundreds of other students and I celebrated our big day with decorated caps. I’m in the boat of “go big or go home” for grad caps, as you can see by the photo at the bottom of this post!
The photos on this post, excluding my grad cap, were taken by the very talented Christine Galligan. I’m giving her free press because I was so happy with my photos.
Last month was a whirlwind of getting ready for graduation and “the real world”, so I didn’t have as much time to give to this blog as I would’ve liked. However, I’m looking forward to more posts in the upcoming weeks and months! See you soon!
Posted on August 3, 2014
WHY NOT? Life is short. Eat dessert first. Start a WordPress blog. Take up acupuncture.