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It was just last May that Mike Keller and Joshua Norman graduated from Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism, eager to face whatever tough assignments the news world would hand them. They did not have long to wait. On Aug 28, Hurricane Katrina hit them both with what may turn out to be the biggest story of their careers. Keller and Norman, who were working at their first full-time reporting jobs for only a few weeks, found themselves spending several nights in the Sun Herald building, living on generator power and no phones, with the destructive sounds and perils of the deadly windstorm howling outside. For the recent graduates, the experience has meant an educational opportunity that Columbia could never provide. Keller said that he is now firmly in it for the long haul. But in Norman's case, his reaction is mixed. He says he is proud of his work, but unsure if he would want to cover that kind of event again.

Copyright VNU eMedia, Inc. Oct 2005

IT WAS JUST LAST May that Mike Keller and Joshua Norman graduated from Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism, eager to face whatever tough assignments the news world would hand them. They didn't have long to wait.

On Aug. 28, Hurricane Katrina hit them both with what may turn out to be the biggest story of their careers. As the Category 5 hurricane barreled down on Biloxi, Miss., and the Sun Herald newspaper offices in Gulfport, the two rookie reporters were among just four reporters who agreed to wait out the storm in the newsroom. "The paper said that everyone needs to take care of themselves and can leave, but if you wanted to stay here, you are welcome to do it," Keller, 29, recalls. "We decided to ride it out."

Keller and Norman, who were working at their first full-time reporting jobs for only a few weeks, found themselves spending several nights in the Sun Herald building, living on generator power and no phones, with the destructive sounds and perils of the deadly windstorm howling outside. With little opportunity to get news stories out during the first 36 hours of the hurricane, the reporters spent hours monitoring a police scanner and venturing out whenever possible. They then started a revealing, poignant blog.

Keller, who joined the paper in early August, had come south for the job at the suggestion of his friend and former schoolmate Norman, who had started at the Sun Herald just weeks earlier. A 1998 graduate of the University of Florida, Keller had spent several years as a geographic analyst before he was bitten by the news bug in 2004, when he entered Columbia. During his first weeks at the paper as an environmental reporter, Keller's stories looked at typical coastal development issues.

So when the hurricane came along, Keller and Norman saw the chance to be on top of the story. "Part of it was stupidity," admits Norman, 27, who came to the paper after a stint in the Peace Corps and non-reporting jobs at other papers. "I had no understanding of how powerful the hurricane was," he added, noting the "terror of the winds."

By midday on Aug. 28, the newsroom was empty except for Norman, Keller, and fellow reporters Anita Lee and Margaret Baker, two veterans who also took up the challenge. About eight non-editorial staffers also remained at the paper through the storm.

"I only slept for about three hours that first night, in a sleeping bag under my desk and went to sleep to the sounds of the police scanner," says Keller. "It was creepy. They were calling into the station with reports of each road as it submerged. The scanner was just cops and firemen calling each other for help."

During that first night, as the hurricane wreaked havoc on the Big Easy, Keller says the reporters would venture outside occasionally but could not go beyond the parking lot: Pebbles seized by the gale "could come through your skin." Norman went on a ride-along with a local fire official.

Norman and Keller launched a blog of their own, unrelated to the newspaper, aptly called Eye of the Storm, at www.dancingwithkatrina.blogspot.com. On it, they offered candid reporting, photos, and their own, often profanity-laced comments.

One blog insert by Norman, posted just as the storm was hitting, read: "We're holed up in a heavily concreted part of the building. Panic is in everyone's eyes, but no one's saying it. I've got my boots on, blue jeans, even though it's hot. Mike suggested I do it in case we have to run, but I cannot imagine to where. Buildings are imploding in downtown Gulfport."

"We did it both to kill time and keep a diary of it," Norman says of the spontaneous blog. "We knew that massive amounts of people wanted to know what was happening. I got phone calls from people crying to me after reading it, reading about someone we just mentioned and knowing they were still alive."

Keller says that while the two continued blogging they had to ensure that newsroom windows did not get smashed in, and that the roof stayed on. "The plywood barricades put up in front of the front entrance were off in the first hour of the storm," he adds.

Once the storm subsided, Keller and Norman went to their apartments in Gulfport and Biloxi. Keller found his digs in good shape, although he stayed at the paper for several more nights after the hurricane. Norman had less luck at his apartment building, which was close to being condemned when he moved out on Sept. 12.

"White mold was growing everywhere, and it is gross," Norman told E&P as he prepared to move into one of the dozens of recreational vehicles Knight Ridder had provided for Sun Herald staffers outside the newspaper's offices. "It was time to move."

Editor Stan Tiner, who somehow put out a newspaper every day during and after the storm, praises the duo for staying on the job under the most difficult circumstances. "It is wonderful to see young journalists who are fearless," says Tiner. "But after you cover the biggest natural disaster in the U.S., where do you go from there?"

One place: their blog, which is still active. It has carried dozens of photos by Norman of everything from dead pelicans to flooded-out casinos. Blog entries have ranged from ripping the local Air Force base ("for hiding behind your gates when your community was hurting so bad") to describing the deterioration of Norman's apartment. "I am proud to say that I have just consumed my 10th Spam sandwich on Wonder Bread since the storm. That would make the 10th Spam sandwich on Wonder Bread I have ever had," Keller wrote two weeks after the hurricane. "I now find that a slathering of mustard and just a hint of Louisiana hot sauce cut the flavor that I can only faintly compare to urine."

For the recent graduates, the entire experience has meant an educational opportunity that Columbia could never provide, they say. "I am now firmly in it for the long haul," Keller says when asked about his future in journalism. "It backed up the fact that people need information. They want someone to tell them a story."

But in Norman's case, his reaction is mixed. Admittedly still worn down from the story, he says he is proud of his work, but unsure if he would want to cover that kind of event again. "There is no better way to learn," says Norman, whose father, Michael, is an associate professor at the Department of Journalism and Mass Communication at New York University. "It has confirmed for me my desire never to be a war correspondent. I've seen more bodies than I want to see, and talked to more people who have lost everything than I want to."