THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, September 3, 1995 TAG: 9509010256
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Random Rambles
SOURCE: Tony Stein
LENGTH: Medium: 84 lines
One day in the 1980s, it snowed in Baltimore and the radio was full of conflicting information about traffic snarls. The confusion irritated a guy named David Saperstein, and he figured there had to be a better way. What he came up with was a business called Metro Traffic Control, one central source for the accurate word on highway conditions.
Now fast forward to 1995 and say hello to Don DeIulio. He's the Chesapeake man who is operations director for the local office of Metro Traffic Control. Each morning and evening, the Metro Traffic troops, airborne and land-bound, feed reports to TV and radio stations, where listeners and viewers learn about the gridlock in between the rock or the Rachmaninof.
DeIulio, 53, was a Norfolk cop for 25 years before signing on with Metro Traffic in 1987. He was a Crime Line spokesman the last seven of those years and really enjoyed it. ``Crime Line gets the whole community involved,'' he says. ``It has put a lot of felons in jail.
``There's no way a police department can do it all without the help of the community. They've gotta look out for each other.''
While DeIulio was a still a cop, he was also moonlighting for local radio stations that put up a traffic 'copter. But what goes up must come down, and, in 1977, DeIulio did just that in the wrong way and the wrong place. He was flying with a pilot and a newspaper reporter named Jack Dorsey when the 'copter hit something that spun it out of control.
It was about 50 feet up before the crash. DeIulio suffered a bad chest injury, but says he was lucky. ``Jack Dorsey saved my life,'' he says. ``I was going to jump out when Jack grabbed me. The 'copter rotor was spinning and would have decapitated me.''
Even after Dorsey's rescue, DeIulio came closer to the Pearly Gates than he ever bargained for. He had passed out and woke up in an ambulance with the name of a funeral home on the window. No, the funeral home wasn't impatient for business. It just happened to have the closest emergency vehicle to the wreck.
Those of you nodding your heads and saying, ``Man was never meant to fly,'' should know that DeIulio has also taken a beating on the ground. He was a motorcycle cop and was the victim in four crashes caused by motorists using his motorcycle for unintentional target practice. Among his souvenirs are knees that puff like footballs if he jogs a block.
But these days DeIulio works out of an un-motorized chair in a non-flying command post in Virginia Beach. He can survey the traffic without combating it. Ask him where the most dangerous place in Chesapeake is and he cites Kempsville Road between Battlefield Boulevard and Centerville Turnpike. ``Too narrow,'' he says. ``Ditches on both sides. No place to go. Head-on collisions.''
Another driver danger zone is George Washington Highway along the Dismal Swamp Canal until it hits the Carolina line. The Virginia side is narrow two-lane with very little room to dodge disaster when it comes straight at you at 55 mph.
However, don't blame those accidents the Metro Traffic reporters tell you about on bad roads alone. Step forward and take a bow, bad Tidewater drivers. There are apparently a lot of you.
For instance, Metro Traffic people consistently see you following too close, even when the roads are soggy and slick. ``Particularly when it's wet,'' DeIulio says, ``you are supposed to allow one car length of space in front of you for every 10 miles of speed. At 55, that's five car lengths.'' Good theory, impossible execution. As soon as you open up any space at all, some interstate NASCAR wannabe passes you and fills the space.
And following too close is why Tidewater highways have seen occasional chain-reaction collisions that have turned as many as 15 or 18 cars into metallic chop suey.
On the plus side for Hampton Roads drivers, though, is the Monitor-Merrimac Memorial Tunnel. It's kind of an undiscovered gem, DeIulio says. It will hustle you over to the Newport News side, usually without a shred of the endless chain of cars that can clog the Hampton Roads Bridge-Tunnel worse than a family reunion in a phone booth.
Yes sir, you say, that DeIulio could probably find his way around blindfolded. Yes and no. In fact, he has a confession to make:
``I know the main roads well,'' he says. ``But not some of the side roads. And I don't like to stop and ask directions. Typical male. Anyway, there are times when I get lost.''
Just think of the message he would have to send: ``Hey, Metro Traffic Control, SOS. The boss is bewildered.'' by CNB