Roving Camera On Facebook

Facebook Pagelike Widget
ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Travel • Muse

Eiffel: What Goes Up

As the Seine meanders aimlessly through Paris, Gustave Eiffel’s work of wonder appears to glide from one bank to the other. Our Batobus commuter boat docks in the shadow of the Tower, and I shepherd my small flock to the shore.

Razi, 14, and Danny, 11, have been troupers on this first trip to Europe, and they are eagerly anticipating the Eiffel Tower.

Except … my wife Susan has a phobia. Elevators make her anxious, and she’ll only ride in one if there’s no alternative. Fortunately, the small hotels we have stayed in on this trip have booked us on low floors so she can climb the stairs. But the Eiffel Tower is no walk-up, and we approach with some apprehension. . . . CONTINUE READING: Eiffel: What Goes Up

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Muse

On Discarding Books

How Not to Be a Library

Today we gave away over 300 books from our dusty shelves. Many bags, crammed full of books, all in excellent shape, an alarming number unread and unopened.

It started with a holiday season when our kids were away most of the time, coupled with a desire to reduce dust and sneezing, amplified by a dread of our kids someday discovering that our vast collections were both voluminous and virginal.

The latter dread, which is not uncommon for retired folks, is a byproduct of having lived in the same house for 32 years. Without regular purges of stuff, every closet, shelf, or cabinet would be stuffed. That’s why they call it stuff. 

The last book purge took place a few years ago, when we discarded funky old open shelving and invested in glass-doored book cabinets from, you know, the huge Swedish place. But the cabinets didn’t close tight, the dust seeped in, and the number of books doubled. 

So this week, it was time to purge. Drag them all out, dust them off, wipe down the shelve, then triage the books into keepers, getriddas, and a few specific giveaways. Stuff the getriddas into 10-cent supermarket bags. Eighteen bags in all, averaging 15-20 books in each.

It’s not easy. I was an early reader, devouring books from age three, and always an acquirer. If I loved a book, I had to own it, even if I never looked at it again. Part of that was  . . . CONTINUE READING: On Discarding Books

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Storytelling • Muse

A Storytelling Journey

I gave a talk on Storytelling at my 50th Dartmouth College Reunion last month. Following is the text of my ten-minute introduction. If you want to see the whole, one-hour presentation, including video clips and stories, click on the video player below. Closed Captions (CC) available.

I never wanted to be a performer … until I discovered storytelling.

About two-and-a-half years ago, a friend of mine had a gig playing classical guitar at The Marsh, a club in Berkeley that was hosting a monthly storytelling night called Tell It On Tuesday. She urged me to come along. After she finished playing, five people, all roughly my age, stood up in turn and told stories. . . . CONTINUE READING: A Storytelling Journey

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Storytelling • Muse

BILLY SOLO Video — Part 2

One-Man Solo Storytelling Soirée Salon

4/20/18 at Silk Road House, Berkeley, California

Part 2 includes these stories:

"FDR: Fear Itself"

"Evelyn’s Story: Alex and the Cole Porter Show"

"Mendocino: The Essence of Nature"

"Snow Story: The Moon and Dr. Zhivago"

. . . CONTINUE READING: BILLY SOLO Video — Part 2

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Storytelling • Muse

BILLY SOLO Video — Part 1

One-Man Solo Storytelling Soirée Salon

4/20/18 at Silk Road House, Berkeley, California

Part 1 includes these stories:

"Anansi"

"Dog Years: Pop, Sophie, and the West Wing"

"The Seven Lies"

"Chartres: Ecstasy at the Altar"

. . . CONTINUE READING: BILLY SOLO Video — Part 1

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Storytelling • Muse

BILLY SOLO: One-man, One-hour Storytelling Soirée Salon with BILL ZARCHY

Friday, April 20th at 7 pm / Silk Road House, 1944 University Avenue #107, Berkeley (6-minute walk from Downtown Berkeley BART)

Tickets are ON SALE NOW: http://bit.ly/billysolo OR Go to zarchy.eventbrite.com . . . CONTINUE READING: BILLY SOLO: One-man, One-hour Storytelling Soirée Salon with BILL ZARCHY

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Storytelling • Muse

Moose Encounter

(Loosely inspired by a tall and nearly true tale)

Jake rushed through the door—sweaty and disheveled—to find Al playing solitaire in the main lodge.

“Al! I just had a moose encounter,” said Jake. “Up on Bacon Ridge. It was pretty great, dude. Wait’ll I tell the guys at home about this.”

“Was it sweet and chocolatey?”

“No, dipshit! Not that kind of moose, with a U! Moose with two O’s, like Bullwinkle. Huge, with antlers. I just saw one.”

“Tell me.”

“I grabbed my camera, hiked to the top, then took a few snaps, looking down at the ranch in the fall foliage. It was right purdy, pardner.”

“Jake, you’ve gotta cut that shit out. We’ll be home in Baltimore at the end of the week, and you’ll still be a dental hygienist. Not John Fucking Wayne.”

“Whatever. I blazed a doobie up there, lay in the sun for a while, then began to walk slowly down, through a clearing covered with wildflowers. Then, up ahead, off the trail, I saw movement in the trees. Something big and brown. Large, broad, flat antlers. Lots of points on them.”

“And you’re sure it was a moose? How do you know? You’ve never seen a live moose before.”

Jake looked at him with the same expression he might have if he’d been watching a baboon scratch its balls. “Al, I’ve seen enough ‘Bullwinkle’ episodes to identify those antlers.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Hey, whatevs. Dude, trust me, this was a moose.”

. . . CONTINUE READING: Moose Encounter

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Storytelling • Muse

A Writer’s Debut As a Storyteller

About two years ago, I went to a storytelling event at The Marsh in Berkeley and watched six people tell six very different stories. Some personal, some historical, all about 10-15 minutes long.

My first reaction: I can do that.

Little did I know.

The tellers were all from Stagebridge, a Senior Theatre Company housed in an old church in Oakland, so I started taking storytelling classes there. Stagebridge also offers courses in acting, directing, singing, dancing, and many other kinds of performance. It’s the only “senior” thing I’ve ever done. But close friends, both recently retired psychologists, have found new passions in performance at Stagebridge, and, so I dove in.

I’m a big fan of “The Moth,” the NPR show, and the storytelling of travel writer Jeff Greenwald. I’ve always liked reading my written stories in public. I saw storytelling as a way to extend that fun with different audiences. But it’s not as easy as I thought it would be, because it’s all done without notes or text.

At first I tried reading some traditional/folk tales to myself and then trying to deliver them in class, adhering as closely as possible to the words I had read. Then I tried to convert some of my own written stories for oral delivery. The tendency for newbies like me, especially writers, is to want to memorize and reproduce the pearly prose I put on paper. That’s not how they teach it at Stagebridge.

It’s more about learning/knowing the . . . CONTINUE READING: A Writer’s Debut As a Storyteller

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing

Listen to My Interview on FCC Free Radio

Radio host Lilycat interviewed me recently about my writing on FCC Free Radio.

The show ran live on September 18, broadcast from their studios in the Civic Center/UN Plaza District in downtown San Francisco. For two hours, we talked, she played music, and I read three stories from my book, Showdown at Shinagawa: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil.

Lilycat, aka Melinda Adams, hosts a weekly show, called “Lilycat on Stuff,” every Sunday at noon. Once a month, she hosts authors like myself from Left Coast Writers.

FCC Free Radio, an Internet-based radio station, is home to over 50 original programs each week, that produce more than 1,000,000 listeners per month. Melinda recorded the whole broadcast, which is now available as a podcast.

Click here to listen to the podcast, which starts with a long musical interlude.

More about “Lilycat on Stuff”

More about my interview

More about FCC Free Radio, from their website:

FCCFREE RADIO opened in July 2008 as a pirate radio station at 107.3 FM with 3 shows and a dream to be San Francisco’s number one radio station, but the FCC came and told them NO!! So FFR transformed into San Francisco’s #1 designation for podcasting and internet broadcasting.

When Google calls you an “Iconic Staple of San Francisco” and a “Frontrunner in Internet Broadcasting” there must be a reason! Tune in and find out why.

FFR has podcasts that range from talk, comedy, sex, health, politics, sports, indie, . . . CONTINUE READING: Listen to My Interview on FCC Free Radio

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Travel • Production • Muse • Teaching

How to Succeed in the Film Business While Really, Really Trying

An old friend from the East Coast contacted me recently to see if I had any career advice for her friends’ son, a recent film school graduate who was trying make it as a filmmaker in New York City. I told my friend that, though my experience as a freelance crew person in the Bay Area wasn’t directly applicable to his efforts at finding production clients in New York, I would be happy to offer some general advice. Here it is.

Hi,

Nice to hear from you. As I explained to our mutual friend, I’m not sure how to advise you, other than telling you a bit about my career.

A little background:

Though I grew up on Long Island, I’m not too familiar with the world of production in New York City, having worked my entire career in the SF Bay Area market. I did do some shooting in New York at times, but primarily for California-based clients, usually Silicon Valley companies. And I worked as a freelance director of photography, not producing films as a production company, so my advice will be pretty general.

After graduating from Dartmouth with a major in government, I taught high school for two years in Vermont, then applied to several film schools. I got into one, at Stanford, and emigrated to California for good. Stanford was great. Small program. The one production teacher at that time had been a rerecording mixer at the National Film Board of Canada, and, though he . . . CONTINUE READING: How to Succeed in the Film Business While Really, Really Trying

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • VIdeos • Muse

Incense Cedar

As we pass the 30-year mark in our home next week, the tall tree in the right rear corner of the yard, an Incense Cedar, stands tall and true, more than twice the height of the house.

When we moved in, there were two tall trees. The left rear corner held a Monterey Pine, so enormous and overgrown that many low branches reached 25 feet across the yard to touch our deck. Others extended over our neighbor’s fence, then across her yard, to rest on the opposite fence on the far side.

The pine was a happy, magnificent, giant forest tree, but clearly it lived in the wrong part of the world. The neighbor remembered that the pine had been a smallish living Christmas tree that the previous owners of our house had plunked into the ground just a dozen years before. The neighbor and I removed 20 huge, low limbs with a pruning saw one day shortly after we moved in, then we had a tree guy come in and take off another 15 higher limbs. A few years later, another tree tried to remove the pine, which by then was over 60 feet tall and continuing to grow rapidly, but he couldn’t deal with its massiveness in our smallish suburban backyard.

Eventually a different pair of tree guys—who climbed like monkeys, wielded wicked chain saws, and lowered limbs with pulleys and ropes—vanquished the pine. It ended up as a scatter of stump seats, a pile of firewood, . . . CONTINUE READING: Incense Cedar

ROVING CAMERA BLOG • VIdeos • Travel • Production • Muse

Showcasing ‘Showdown at Shinagawa’—The Video

Video of a presentation by Bill Zarchy at Northbrae Community Church, Berkeley, California on 2/3/16.

The author reads excerpts from four of the stories in his book, Showdown at Shinagawa: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil.” He also discusses the ins and outs of self-publishing, as well as his background as a globe-trotting cinematographer.

The stories read:

  • “Starstruck at Cannes: Morgan Freeman on the Red Carpet”
  • “21st Century Village: Telemedicine in Rural India”
  • “Dog Years: Sophie, Pop, and Bill Clinton”
  • “Shanghai Lunch”
  • Please note: Video is from an iPad. Sound level is low, but audible. Crank it up!

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Travel • Production • Muse

    Bangkok, the Saudis, and the Jism Balls

    Sunset over the Chao Phraya River in Bangkok

    “I’m hungry,” said Randy, as we set up a sunset shot from the overpass near the end of our first day on the ground. “We need something to eat.”

    “Okay,” Larry agreed. “I’ll get street food. There’s lots of it around.”

    “Is that safe?”

    “This is at least my fifth trip to Thailand. I’ve never gotten sick on street food here.”

    “Unlike Mexico,” I put in, “or India, or Uganda.”

    “Or other places. I think everything’s very fresh here. When you buy something, it’s usually been made just minutes before.”

    Larry crossed to the other side of the pedestrian bridge, past a mutilated street beggar, to one of several food carts there. We resumed setting the camera for a shot of traffic below on Sukhumvit Avenue near our Bangkok hotel.

    Two men walked up and caught Randy’s eye. “Are you people Americans?” asked the larger, more prosperous-looking guy.

    I looked up from the camera as Rod adjusted the focus for our shot and Conrad set up his mic. The strangers didn’t look Thai. “Why?” Randy asked.

    He regarded us with a big smile and open arms. “We are from Saudi Arabia. We L-O-V-E you people!” The smaller guy behind him said nothing, but beamed a beatific smile.

    Larry returned with a bag of stuff from the food cart. We looked inside. It was filled with golden fried spheres of something piping hot.

    “Tell me, my friend,” asked the larger Saudi . . . CONTINUE READING: Bangkok, the Saudis, and the Jism Balls

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Muse

    Dog 3.0—Good Golly, Miss Molly

    Meet Molly.

    The third in the Pantheon of Zarchy Family Dogs, she follows, in succession, Sophie the Wonder Dog and Montana Banana Zarchy, all of them delicious sources of unqualified love.

    Molly is eight months old, about 45 lbs., a super-cute Boxer mix with light fawn-and-white coloring and a longer snout than the typical purebred Boxer. She was a stray found in another part of the state, without tags or microchip, then rescued from a “high-kill” shelter by the fine folks at Milo Foundation in Point Richmond. We adopted her two weeks ago, and she is making an easy transition from pound pup to pampered pooch.

    (Kudos to the Milo people, BTW, who rescue over 1500 animals per year.)

    Molly makes herself right at home.

    I didn’t always love dogs. When I was six, my dad realized that I was afraid of dogs, because my mom was scared of dogs and her mom was scared of dogs.

    So we got a dog, a little Fox Terrier mutt named Honey, who was sweet and soft and cuddly and shed like a husky. Despite her size, she was famous as a fierce watchdog who came tearing through our house when the doorbell rang, sliding the last few feet on a throw rug, barking at whatever intruder dared to approach the house.

    One day Mr. Wolfe, our mailman, arrived as usual. He had seen Honey slide wildly toward him many times, but this day she was feeling more intense or . . . CONTINUE READING: Dog 3.0—Good Golly, Miss Molly

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Muse

    The Moon, the Snow, and Dr. Zhivago

    One autumn about a million years ago, I was living with friends in Vermont, teaching high school, avoiding conscription, and just starting my California Dreaming.

    We lived on a farm on a dirt road off another dirt road. The farm didn’t grow anything. The owners lived on Guam, used it only as a summer house, and were dumb enough to have rented it to four just-out-of-Dartmouth, draft-dodging, occupational deferment, Vietnam-avoiding high school teachers.

    They decided to rent it because they had been burglarized the year before when the house was empty and thought having someone live in it year-round would enhance security. They also installed a bright street light over the yard to ward off burglars.

    The farm consisted of 80 acres of beautiful, rolling Vermont hills, four streams, fields separated by stone fences, and a gentle hill to climb at sunset when the deer came out to feed. The total rent was $150 a month.

    The farm was easy to find. From Windsor, where I was teaching, you drove a few paved miles to Hartland Three Corners, a tiny hamlet among verdant fields, then another few miles to Hartland Four Corners, even tinier. From there the rest of the trip was on dirt. You took the Hartland-Quechee Road toward Quechee, and after a few miles, you turned left at the Van Vlack place. Everyone knew where that was, and if they didn’t, you could remind them it was the place that had the barn fire, but they were . . . CONTINUE READING: The Moon, the Snow, and Dr. Zhivago

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Baseball • Muse

    Present at the Re-Creation: The Loma Prieta Earthquake

    October 17, 1989, 5:09 pm

    Section 51, Upper Deck

    Candlestick Park, San Francisco

    “It’s in the drink, man! The Bay Bridge has fallen down!”

    Uh oh, it’s going to take a while to get home tonight. The man in front of me with the radio pressed to his ear continues to relay news to the fans around us. We’re here for the third game of the World Series. Five minutes ago, the earth shook, and the crowd cheered. Now we start to realize the magnitude of what’s happened. And where the heck is Darrell? . . . CONTINUE READING: Present at the Re-Creation: The Loma Prieta Earthquake

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Muse

    A Chance Encounter

    Running the clapstick. First year at Stanford Film School.

    Sometimes the course of your life can turn on one small thing, one chance encounter. It happened to me, many years ago, the day Beverly invited me to visit her.

    Of course I had the hots for her—pretty, round face, sparkling blue eyes, long blond hair. But ever since our one blind date during college, I had known we would never be more than friends.

    I ran into her at Butcher and Stephanie’s wedding about a year after graduation. She was the maid of honor and I was an usher. During the reception, at a fancy club on the harbor in Marblehead, Massachusetts, Beverly and I wandered down the hill to the beach, got high, and played on the rocks at the water’s edge.

    “I’m living with three other girls in Cambridge this summer,” she said. “Why don’t you come visit? Come hang out with us.”

    Wow, four girls in one apartment! An attractive offer after four years of monosexual education at Dartmouth, and another year of monastic existence while teaching high school in northern Vermont. So a week later I drove to Cambridge to see her.

    John, a former classmate of mine, was also visiting Beverly and her roommates. I hadn’t known him very well in college, though we shared a number of common friends, including Butcher. John had dated Stephanie for a while, but they’d broken up near the end of our senior year, and he had . . . CONTINUE READING: A Chance Encounter

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Muse

    We Loved Our First House

    We loved our first house in San Francisco, in the Excelsior district of the Outer Mission. We loved the fact that we owned it, loved that we had managed to move quickly enough to evade eviction by our last landlady (who had suddenly decided to move into our apartment), loved that our living space had increased to include three bedrooms and two baths, loved that we now had a huge, two-car garage with washer and dryer and a concrete back yard we transformed into a garden with roses and sunflowers and paths of brick and camomile.

    We loved our location across from Crocker Park, loved taking our toddler to the swings there, loved jogging around the park, loved watching the Samoans play cricket there on Sundays, loved seeing others play softball, loved strolling through the Eucalyptus-lined lanes.

    We didn’t love the gunshots that emanated from the park in our first month living there, didn’t love the fact that our jogging route behind the grandstands took us through a smelly concrete canyon which had been used as a urinal since the beginning of time, didn’t love the handful of unsavory characters who hung out there, didn’t love that the long-promised clubhouse the city built there was finally completed around the time we left the neighborhood.

    We didn’t love that our house was in direct line with the Daly City Fog Gap, didn’t love that it was usually cold and foggy and windy there, didn’t love that the previous owner (when . . . CONTINUE READING: We Loved Our First House

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Muse

    Pop’s Podunks

    Whenever my dad wanted to speak metaphorically about Podunks—places that were remote and sparsely populated—he often cited Broken Elbow, Indiana, and Frozen Dog, Iowa.

    I always assumed they were real places, and recently I dug around to find out how they got their colorful names. Internet research truly is the best!

    Googling “Broken Elbow, Indiana” yielded a few promising results: a juicy lead about an Indiana Pacers player (Chris Copeland) who broke his elbow; an informational site for medical elbow and shoulder providers in Indianapolis; another site for orthopedic surgeons in northwest Indiana; and a news alert about an Oakland A’s player (from Indiana) who broke his elbow throwing a pitch this weekend.

    My search for the origins of “Frozen Dog, Iowa” also seemed rife with possibilities: a TV news story about a man discovering a frozen (human) body while out walking his dog in Des Moines; another self-explanatory headline “Frozen Dog Found in Trash in Iowa;” and a pet food site (for dogs, cats, and ferrets) called “My Pet Carnivore” which, among other things, sells frozen pet food in Iowa.

    But where should I go from there? Some hard thinking was necessary. I mean, really, would anyone name a town after a medical practice? Crazy thought! On the other hand, what if the town’s most distinguished citizen had benefited from special treatments after an elbow break? Well … uh … still unlikely. Then, digging a little deeper on the Interwebs, I discovered the shocking factoid that the Pacers . . . CONTINUE READING: Pop’s Podunks

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Travel

    Good Night, Irene—Confessions of a Mileage Whore

    Bronze Certificate, Funny Travel Category, 9th Annual Solas Awards for Travel Writing from Travelers’ Tales, March 2015

    It’s not easy being a mileage whore. Sometimes you have to do things that don’t seem to make sense.

    United Airlines operates a major hub in San Francisco, and I’ve whored for their miles for years now. On my trip to Brazil recently, because I wanted the mileage, I had chosen a longer United itinerary through Newark going and Washington coming.

    But when things got complicated on the return, I had to decide if the miles were worth it.

    We wrapped our week-long video shoot in São Paulo on a Friday night—amid much hugging and thanking with the cast and crew—and had time to relax over dinner that evening.

    Saturday was the first day all week I didn’t have to set my alarm for 5:30, and I luxuriated in sleeping in. I had plans to meet my co-worker for breakfast before his 3 pm flight back home to Salvador, Bahia, further north up the Brazilian coast. My own departure for the States was scheduled for Saturday night.

    But when I awoke with a start Saturday morning, I had an email and several phone messages from United, warning me that my scheduled 10:15 departure that night to Washington-Dulles had been pushed back five hours to 3:15 am Sunday, because of “late aircraft arrival.” I didn’t mind leaving Brazil later, but I did the math and quickly realized that I would . . . CONTINUE READING: Good Night, Irene—Confessions of a Mileage Whore

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing

    New Book Review? Is This English?

    I just found an online page which appears, at first, to be a review of my book SHOWDOWN at SHINAGAWA. Then I read the page all the way through. I know these are English words, but … is this English? My favorites are learning that “SHOWDOWN at SHINAGAWA … lets you cook flavorful and tasty food without the hassles” and “will go a long way to discourage mischievous activities at the home or business. The one is simply the ultimate for the budget-conscious hunter that refuses to sacrifice performance.”

    Huh?

    Here is the whole piece, from suchwatch.com, which purports to be an “Internet online shopping directory:”

    Showdown At Shinagawa: Tales Of Filming From Bombay To Brazil is a outstanding trait and fairly appropriate creation for the low-cost price. We grant shoppers with the highest mannerism and most innovative productions in the website. You can surely procure the produce and more replacement at the cheap price with reliable transaction.

    You will get Showdown at Shinagawa: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil cut-price price after check the price. You can read more productions subject and features. This unit is high quality and rapid shipping for the market. If you are search for Showdown at Shinagawa: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil, this unit is the best quality product and we are indeed recommend the produce!

    Showdown at Shinagawa: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil lets you cook flavorful . . . CONTINUE READING: New Book Review? Is This English?

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Travel • Teaching • Tech

    Why They Call It Far-go

    At 9 am Monday, I left my home near San Francisco for what proved to be one of my longest trips ever. Twenty-nine hours later, I reached my destination, after a grueling air journey.

    But I hadn’t been hurled halfway around the world. I had finally touched down in Fargo, North Dakota, just halfway across the U.S., a mere 1450 miles from home.

    At that rate—about 50 miles per hour—I could have driven there.

    By comparison, some years before, in 24 hours, I flew from Singapore to Johannesburg to Nairobi to Kampala, Uganda—over 7500 miles. Another time I traveled 8800 miles from San Francisco to Singapore in 23 hours, including a very short overnight in Bangkok. Twice I had flown nearly 10,000 miles to India through Frankfurt in a mere 21 hours.

    But the day before my departure for Fargo, a “Check in Now” email from United hinted that I might have a problem. Though my calendar insisted it was March 30, and that spring had sprung ten days before, Fargo hadn’t gotten the memo. The weather forecast for my destination was “Blizzard” (a word I had hoped never to see on a boarding pass), accompanied by an ominous graphic of dark, stormy clouds carelessly spewing snowflakes, the word “WINDY” ethereally italicized across the skies. Expected high temp: 29, low temp: 12. At my home near San Francisco, it was nearly 30 degrees warmer.

    I had been tracking Fargo weather for a while. I was flying to a teaching . . . CONTINUE READING: Why They Call It Far-go

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Travel • Production

    New Award & Reviews for SHOWDOWN at SHINAGAWA: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil

    My book SHOWDOWN at SHINAGAWA tells true stories from my long career as a director of photography, working on film and digital cinema shoots across the U.S. and all around the world—Japan, India, China, Uganda, the Philippines, New Zealand, France, Singapore, England, Taiwan, Mexico, and Brazil.

    The book has recently been honored as a Commended Winner in Non-Fiction in the 2014 Self-Publishing Review Awards. One of the three highest non-fiction awards!

    RECENT REVIEWS

  • “Funny, sweet, and wise…deeply moving human interest stories…the doctor in India who doesn’t charge for treating people via telemedicine, the young man in England with cystic fibrosis who has a new lease on life thanks to a portable nebulizer, and the medical student in Uganda who is tirelessly working to help his people.”—Foreword Clarion Reviews
  • “The author recalls his near ‘big break’…as a novice director doing preproduction in the Philippines for a low-budget Japanese sci-fi film…Thumbs up for this filmmaker’s collection of postcards from the edge.”—Kirkus Reviews
  • “’Shanghai Lunch’ is a funny little vignette about Westerners trying Chinese delicacies. ‘The Big Break: Malaise in Manila’ is a great little humor piece for those of you just dying to know how a B-movie gets made.”—IndieReader
  • “The book…really pulls together as a narrative about humanity in general in a very intriguing and heartwarming way, even when . . . CONTINUE READING: New Award & Reviews for SHOWDOWN at SHINAGAWA: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil
  • ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Muse

    For Mom, A Century Later—We Miss Your Bright Eyes and Sweet Smile

    Today is the 100th birthday of my mom, Jeanette Tulman Zarchy, who passed away about two years ago. In her honor, I am republishing this eulogy I wrote for her memorial.

    I want to tell you a little about our mom, whose life mirrored our nation’s history for the last century.

    She was born Jeanette Dorothy Tulman on May 4, 1914. Think about that for a minute. She was born before the start of World War One, when Woodrow Wilson was president, the first of 17 presidents during her lifetime.

    Jeanette was born at home at 107 Bristol Street, in the Brownsville section of Brooklyn, a neighborhood of immigrants. Her family rented, then owned and lived in the three apartments at 107 for generations, the occupants changing a bit from time to time, as these relatives moved out and those cousins moved in. At one point my great-uncle Julius Littinsky had his medical office on the ground floor. Other members of the extended family lived nearby. My great-uncle Israel Brower had a pharmacy a block away, on the corner of Bristol Street and Pitkin Avenue.

    Jeanette’s family was the Fiddler on the Roof generation. They had fled oppression in their Russian-Jewish shtetl and had emigrated to Brooklyn seven years before she turned up. Her father William Tulman, for whom I was named, was a printer. Her mother, Sylvia Brower Tulman, was the oldest of six in her own family and had helped raise her younger siblings when her own . . . CONTINUE READING: For Mom, A Century Later—We Miss Your Bright Eyes and Sweet Smile

    ROVING CAMERA BLOG • Books / Writing • Travel • Production

    SHOWDOWN at SHINAGAWA Now Available in Paperback and Kindle e-Book Versions

    SHOWDOWN AT SHINAGAWA: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil

    New Book by BILL ZARCHY on sale now!

    Introduction by Larry Habegger

    Bill Zarchy’s new book—SHOWDOWN at SHINAGAWA—is now on sale at Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle e-book versions. SHOWDOWN AT SHINAGAWA: Tales of Filming from Bombay to Brazil tells true stories from Zarchy’s long career as a director of photography, working on film and digital cinema shoots across the U.S. and all around the world—Japan, India, China, Uganda, the Philippines, New Zealand, France, Singapore, England, Taiwan, Mexico, and Brazil. . . . CONTINUE READING: SHOWDOWN at SHINAGAWA Now Available in Paperback and Kindle e-Book Versions