At a moment when American newspapers seem to be hurtling down a mountain toward insignificance, it’s time for news alumni to step up in support of their young, hard-working heirs.
Some of us may have been fortunate enough to work in a newsroom with a news/editorial staff of, say, 400 — an enterprise now sustained by fewer than 80.
I belong to a social media group of retired journalists. The members enjoy connections with former colleagues, mostly with good intent: to check in on the still living, to mourn the now dead, to tell stories about the glory days, and to build a collective legacy of journalist achievement. I admire them.
Good journalists, we know, are a skeptical group. We should not be surprised at some occasional geezer grousing about the performance of the current leadership and staff of a news organization. Here are some typical complaints (paraphrases, not direct quotes).
- Why are there so many ads and other interruptions in between paragraphs of the stories?
- Whatever happened to news judgment? How can you have an important story like (such and such) and not put it on the first page?
- So and so (copy editor) would be turning over in their grave to see a spelling mistake like that in a headline.
- It’s not hone in; it’s home in!
- Why do they make me log in every single time? Why can’t they remember my password!!!
- How can you lay off more reporters when the bosses are making so much money?
You get the idea.
There’s a type of story told for generations by “alter kakers” (old poops) like me that goes like this: The kid wants a ride to school because it is a rainy day. Answers grandpa: “You kids don’t know how easy you got it. Back in my day, we walked 10 miles to school — each way! — in 10 inches of snow — with bare feet!!!”
Journalism professor James Carey from Illinois and Columbia once described for me how a good psychiatrist works. From memory: “If he is a good doctor, he will listen to the story you are telling about yourself. He will try to identify the parts of your story that are making you sick. And, over time, he will guide you on how to tell a new story that will help make you well.”
It is not paranoid to say that the haters of true, fact-based journalism seem bolder and more vicious than ever, sharing or inventing countless narratives of malpractice or worse.
One way to neutralize that poison is for journalists, the old ones and the new, to start telling a new story about ourselves, a story in our personal, but also in the public interest.
Veteran retired journalists know, in their hearts of hearts, that they were lucky to be working for newspapers at a time of prosperity. They did not have to walk in the snow to work. They could ride in golden chariots like the emperors we thought we were.
As for the new kids in the newsroom — if they are lucky enough to have a newsroom — they are the new barefoot boys and girls trudging through the snow.
How might we help them?
I have adopted a simple habit. When I see a story I admire, I check the byline. Who wrote this? Their work email is right there in the credit line. It’s so easy to write a few words of praise and appreciation:
To Colleen Wright: What an amazing job you are doing covering the city of St. Pete in recent years. First came the pandemic. Then came three hurricanes. Then the roof got torn off the stadium. Oh, and a crane crashed into your office. Your dogged reporting means a lot to all of us at a time like this. Cheers.
Tell the kids how much you admire them. They deserve it.
P.S. Oh, and one more thing. I will stipulate that Jeff Bezos, the billionaire who owns The Washington Post, when it comes to responsible journalism and editorial integrity, has turned out to be a self-serving tool. You think you are hurting him by canceling your subscription to the Post? You are really hurting dedicated reporters and editors, journalists who are working their butts off in the public interest. How do we support them? Renew your subscription. Hold your nose if you must.
