My favorite Ken Stevens story was when he came out to our farm with a young lady who was job shadowing (Ken was always so generous with his time) to shoot a photograph of Lumberjack Scott Feasby for a big sports story we were doing. I went into the barn to get a bale of hay for a prop and when I emerged, it was like a scene out of The Birds. Ken was helping lift the young woman from the ground after this gigantic (and extremely mean) black swan my husband had acquired for our pond had basically flogged her to the ground and was on top of her.
Ken used his expensive photo equipment to finally free the bird from the woman, who was lying face down on the ground with a pretty good-sized rip in her jeans. And when it was all over. You got it! There was that wry, trademark smile. How privileged I have been to have had so many interesting experiences with this wonderful man. And, of course, we will all miss his five-alarm chili, which was a staple at so many
Chronicle potlucks over the years.