There isn’t much difference between covering a tropical storm and covering a hurricane before it arrives…

We still have to pack all our bad weather gear, stock up on water, dry food and supplies and find a suitable place for the satellite truck to park so we can stay live thru the storm.

Wednesday morning we flew to Savannah Georgia from New York, then had to drive nearly four hours north to Myrtle Beach South Carolina because Hanna shifted her path. We scouted a couple possible locations along the way, including the Litchfield Inn on Pawleys Island (great spot but too far south)before settling at the newly built Sandy Beach Resort just south of the main drag in Myrtle.

When we found out the city wouldn’t let us park our sat truck on the sidewalk in front of the hotel (the only spot protected from the expected winds) we found another spot just up the road at the Windsurfer Motel.

Today we shot interviews and b-roll on the beach, on a pier and in town for a story we put together for our affiliates across the country. We’ll be live until 2 am ET and do it all again tomorrow.

So far the weather has been picture perfect, but forecasters say we’ll get at least tropical storm force winds tomorrow afternoon and evening and heavy rains thru the night.

He calls himself “Robin Hood 702.”

He’s a high stakes blackjack player well known in certain Las Vegas casinos for wagering thousands of dollars a hand, sometimes winning (or losing) hundreds of thousands of dollars in a single day.

Now he’s offering to use his gambling skills — and his own money — to help a family in financial need, like a modern-day Robin Hood, taking from the rich and giving to the poor. He wants to remain anonymous to keep the focus on the good deed he’s ready to do.

“I’m looking for a well deserving family up against hard times” he told me over a recent dinner on the West Coast. “People $25,000 to $50,000 in debt who did right by family or neighbors in the past. Now it’s their time to be helped and I want to be the one to help them.”

He’s created a website, Robinhood702.com, where he’ll collect submissions now through Sept. 15 before choosing a winner. He says anyone can nominate anyone in need, like a friend, relative, neighbor or themselves, by sending a 1- to 3-minute video explaining their hardships, contributions or other reasons they should be selected.

He’ll choose a winner after confirming the details of their story and financial crisis.

Robin Hood 702 promises the chosen family “an unforgettable experience” in Las Vegas or a similar gaming venue (he’s still looking for the right casino to host the event). He’ll fly them in, put them up in a high-roller suite and cover meals, spa treatments and show tickets. Then, at some point he’ll go into the casino’s VIP high-limit room and win the money necessary to pay off their debt.

“What if you lose?” I ask him. “I won’t” he insists.

Then, because he’s superstitious, he asks me not to use the “L” word again, guaranteeing he’ll set aside half the money the family needs to be debt-free and hand it over, no matter what happens at the blackjack table.

“But that won’t be necessary. I’m gonna win the money” he tells me, and after seeing him play, it’s easy to believe the boast.

He says he’s been gambling since he was 16, experiencing every emotion imaginable, “up, down, over and out”, but says he’s figured out after all these years how to win consistently, crediting much of his success to good karma and good luck.

He doesn’t recommend that others try this and says he knows some perceive gambling as “the dark side,” but he believes he can use it to do good and says he hopes to start a national movement, with people using their skills or expertise in other fields to help families in crisis.

For now, he’s focusing on finding the first family, he told me while sipping Evian with a slice of orange (he doesn’t drink alcohol).

“My goal,” he says, “is to save someone’s house, pay their debts and win back their American dream.”

Courtroom 14D in the Federal Courthouse in lower Manhattan is large and well-lit, modern but grand with high ceilings and walls of dark wood with crown molding and decorative arches over the doors.

I’m sitting on a bench seat in the back of the room with a couple dozen reporters, lawyers and other interested parties.

The jury box is empty.

An assistant U.S. District Attorney sits in the center, next to a lawyer from Georgetown University representing the National Archives, one of several plaintiffs fighting for the release of Grand Jury testimony of 44 witnesses called for the Julius and Ethel Rosenberg Espionage case in 1950.

Judge Hellerstein sits facing us in a high back leather chair on the bench next to a large American flag. His words and those of the lawyers are well-amplified and clear.

It’s an impressive setting for a historic ruling on the release of evidence 55 years after this nation’s only execution ever of American civilians for spying.

Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were convicted in a sensational espionage trial of passing atomic secrets to the Soviet Union during World War II. They were Communist sympathizers, executed at Sing-Sing prison in 1953.

Sam Roberts, a New York Times writer, author and expert on the case told me, “Communism looked a little more appealing after the depression when a lot of people were not benefiting from Capitalism, when there was anti-Semitism in this country and there was a perception, certainly not a reality, that there was a lot less of it in the Soviet Union.”

But Roberts and others have long suggested the evidence against Ethel was weak and her execution may have been a mistake.

“Ethel Rosenberg was an actress…,” Sam reminded me. “At some point she realized this was her greatest role. Whatever loyalty she had to Communism and towards the Soviet Union she could perform a lot more as a Martyr than she ever could as a spy.”

There is little doubt Ethel’s husband Julius passed atomic secrets to the Soviets, notes and sketches of the atomic bomb he got from Ethel’s brother David Greenglass, another communist sympathizer who worked at the Los Alamos lab in New Mexico.

David gave Julius notes and sketches of the bomb and Ethel allegedly typed them up before the materials were handed off to the Soviets.

But decades later David told reporters he lied at trial. It was his wife, not Ethel, who typed up the stolen secrets. He helped prosecutors win a death sentence for his sister to keep his wife out of trouble.

Some call it a Shakespearean tragedy and the Rosenberg’s descendants are among those hoping for answers, including how the Government was able to win its case with what may be faulty testimony.

But while the Judge ruled testimony from 39 of the 46 witnesses can be released, he decided some still can’t be because of it’s sensitive nature, inability to determine if the witnesses are still alive, or in Greenglass’s case because he wants to maintain the privacy guaranteed him by the Feds before he walked into the Grand Jury room in August of 1950.

“He may be a scoundrel, a hypocrite and a liar and may have violated the 2nd and 7th Commandments…” the judge said, “…but that doesn’t override the value of Grand Jury secrecy.”

Greenglass’s words remain hidden at least until he dies. The National Archives will now work on releasing the testimony from 39 others, probably sometime within the next couple weeks.

I went to cover a political fund raising event in a New York City nightclub earlier this week as part of a story on a congressional race in Brooklyn featuring 13-term incumbent Ed Towns and challenger Kevin Powell, a writer and activist who may be best-known (in some circles) as the often-angry guy in the very first season of MTV’s “The Real World” show back in 1992.

Powell says he’s been friends with comedian Dave Chappelle for years, even profiling him for an Esquire cover story after Chappelle famously opted not to sign a $50 million dollar contract with Comedy Central in 2005 and disappeared to South Africa.

Their friendship and Chappelle’s star power were among the reasons Powell’s staff booked the comedian to appear at the fund raiser where he would presumably draw a large crowd of supporters and donors, injecting money, energy, excitement and maybe even some controversy into Powell’s campaign.

I met producer Shushannah Walshe and our crew at the club (”Eugene”) before the doors opened at 7 p.m. to set up our equipment and coordinate with staff for a one-on-one with the candidate and maybe Chappelle too.  People arrived in waves and the bar quickly filled to capacity.  We met Powell and interviewed him in the quietest spot we could find, then took our position near the stage to wait for the show to start.

Powell spoke to the enthusiastic crowd around 8:30, discussing his background and reasons for running, ending with a chant “Together, We Will Win.”  He told everyone Chappelle was “on the way” but hadn’t yet arrived and promised “more to come” before retreating to the VIP area to meet the biggest donors and huddle in a booth with comedian Chris Rock, who has roots in the 10th District.

Time passed with no sign of Chappelle.  The crowd grew restless.  At one point a local print reporter got on stage and told a couple jokes about 99-cent stores.  The captive audience didn’t seem to think he was very funny, showering the guy with some jeers and boos and scattered applause before he sheepishly waved and walked off.

The cameras stayed trained on the entrance to the VIP room just off the stage, waiting for a sign of Chappelle or maybe Chris Rock.

Finally at 10:15, the candidate walked out and back on stage.  To apologize.  There would be no performance by Dave Chappelle.  The comedian “missed his flight” and then “missed the next flight”.  Rock wouldn’t perform either, “out of respect for his fellow comedian.”

The assembled were remarkably understanding, considering most had waited three hours and many paid between $50 and $2300 to be there.  “We’re here for you, Kevin!” one man yelled as Powell spoke.  The candidate promised free admission to the “next celebrity event” to all who’d paid and said the DJ and bartenders would stay until 11pm, but most people headed for the doors when he walked away from the microphone.

I wonder if they’ll ask Chappelle to headline again?  And if they do, I wonder how many of the people who waited for him this week will come back for another try?

I’m pretty sure we’ll be there either way and will let you know what happens.

I haven’t been on a stakeout in a while. We’ll do it on occasion, waiting for someone to arrive or leave a location, efforting video and/or an interview with someone who doesn’t necessarily want to be on television.

It can be extremely boring, depending on how long it takes to get the shot.

Sometimes we sit in a vehicle and read the paper or listen to music. Sometimes it’s cold or rainy and we’re stuck outside.

Today was nice. I stood at the corner of 120th and Amsterdam on the edge of Columbia University’s campus under blue skies with the temperature in the mid to upper 70’s. My producer Ian Rafferty had to wait in the car since we were illegally parked next to a coned-off zone where they’re supposed to shoot an episode of “Law and Order”. My cameraman Paul Alvarez stood in front of the side door with a still photographer while I manned the corner about 20 yards away, keeping an eyeball on the front entrance, scanning back and forth in case our subject stepped out Paul’s way.

We were waiting for Dr. Madonna Constantine, a just-fired Columbia Teacher’s College professor who’s accused of plagiarizing the work of two students and a former colleague. She gained national attention during the investigation into her alleged misdeeds when a noose mysteriously appeared on her office door, leading to her claims the school was targeting her in some sort of racist witch hunt.

About an hour after we arrived outside her building I spotted her, dressed in black with a male escort, hurrying out the front door and towards a town car that was quickly u-turning to a stop in front of her building.

“There she is!” I yelled to Paul and jogged down the sidewalk towards her, microphone in hand. “Dr. Constantine!” I shouted. “Dr. Constantine!  Can we ask you a question?”. She ignored me and climbed into the backseat. Her escort followed and closed the door as we reached the car.

“Dr. Constantine?” I asked again. She never turned her head and the car sped off towards the light, where the still camera grabbed a shot.
She’s apparently headed to her lawyer’s office to discuss her next move.

We fed the video via our mac book pro and set up the streambox for a Studio B live shot.

I felt a bit like a paparazzi but my goal wasn’t profit or exploitation. I was trying to give her a chance to respond to the allegations against her. Maybe her lawyer will talk instead.