Deke Houlgate writes about covering the loss of the Pan Am Stratocruiser "Romance of the Skies" (the lost plane in a publicity shot, below right):
 

That story was a real panic operation. I came to work for my 3 to
midnight shift, and all day long other, more experienced reporters were
lobbying for that assignment. Fortunately, I don’t remember any names,
because I learned later that my selection wasn’t popular among the
staff. I didn’t even know about it till Bill Bastedo called me up to
the city desk and told me to get ready to go. Larry Sharkey took me
home to my Silver Lake apartment, where Olga had just returned after
watching an SC football game with my parents. Larry told Olga to pack
me enough clothes to be gone 10 days. I didn’t even own that much
underwear, but luckily I had a wad of cash from George Rice, the
auditor (I got back at him  that time), and I bought clothes at the
commissary on board the aircraft carrier.

This
was a big deal at the time. Life send a photog, a cocky redhead named
Bill. In those days they were all cocky, red headed and didn’t lack for
confidence. AP Photo sent Hal Filan, an old friend from my childhood.
No other L.A. newspapers accepted the Navy’s invitation to make the
trip. I had one competitor, as the San Diego Union-Tribune sent a young
copy editor named Gerald Warren. (Gerry became a lot more famous than I
did, serving as Nixon’s press aide in the final days of Watergate.) I
was used to working around the clock in my old job at the Las Vegas
Sun. So instead of hitting the officers club I went right to work in
the radio room in the fantail of the ship. The enlisted men back there
and I got along famously. I was told we would be out of radio range at
about 300 miles, but I was still sending copy three days later 1,000
miles out. I don’t know what they did to accomplish that, but I found
something to write about almost every hour of the day. It must have
driven the city desk bonkers. Marvin Miles was doing the rewrite and
staying in touch with Pan-Am. He was the real backbone of our team.

Each day I filed stories AP picked
them up under my byline, and news agencies all over the world were
getting pissed off. The Navy, through my high-ranking friend, the
captain of the ship, had clamped a news blackout on the story and was
letting only my copy and Gerry’s go out. That gave me an idea. We would
probably find something in the water, and I needed to control the
story. So I made a deal with Gerry to work as a team. I had seen plenty
of corpses and debris in my young, misspent life. So I gave that chore
to Gerry and I manned the rewrite desk for both our papers. When we
found corpses, I relied on Gerry for the words and wrote take after
take of copy, 18 hours in all. Around the country news agencies were
doing a slow burn. I don’t know what was going on in San Diego, but my
AP buddies in L. A. were bylining me on every new development. I
believe we filed 30 takes or so. Every one a new development.

After
24 hours of exclusive eyeball coverage the captain or his fleet admiral
ended our adventure. But we were still 1,200 miles out to sea, and
there was no way any news agency could reach the ship till we got back
to Long Beach. Heaven! The wire services and networks could communicate
with the ship, but we were days ahead of all of them. A lot of stories
in Las Vegas were panic button pieces, and organizing the enlisted men
on this huge WW II aircraft carrier was a piece of cake. They didn’t
like the redhead from Life. So as he swamped them with negatives, they
put slow fix to work on them. He was the last newsman to leave the ship
in Long Beach. Filan, a wily old veteran, had his negs quick-fixed,
said nothing to anybody about it and loved his experience.

When
I came ashore, I learned how Marvin tickled my copy and made me a hero.
The head of the USC journalism department nominated me for an SDX
prize, but I didn’t win that either. Didn’t deserve it. Marvin Miles
made me look good. I still have no idea how much of my copy ran,
before or after the body count, but I couldn’t go anywhere for the rest
of the year but somebody would tell me they read my stories.

My
heroes were those incredible radio guys in the fantail who kept me in
touch with the city desk for almost 900 miles farther than they were
supposed to. This is my first chance finally to thank them, 50 years
later.

[Note: Deke doesn’t like to brag, but The Times nominated him for a Pulitzer for his coverage of the crash–lrh]