Several dozen Gulf coast journalists gathered in Biloxi and New
Orleans last week to reflect on the experience of covering the
catastrophic storms and to discuss where they — and their newsrooms —
go from here. The conferences were sponsored by The Poynter Institute
and the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma.
By Karen Brown Dunlap
Poynter President
As the plane began its descent toward New Orleans
and the terrain came into view, the passenger next to me became
chatty. He offered to explain what we’d see of his home region,
pointing out the blue roof tarps that carpeted an area beneath us. He
talked about the slow recovery of the economy, the problems with
schools, the huge amount of work to be done, and doubts about the levee
system.
He’s thinking about moving away, he said, thinking of starting over in another state.
“Will things get better here?” I asked.
He paused, and then answered, “Only if the news media keep covering it. Only if they don’t stop covering it.”
It didn’t occur to me to ask his name, but I wish I had. I’d like to
share with him what happened on the ground over the next couple of days.
That evening about 40 members of the region’s news media gathered in
New Orleans for a two day conference on covering the hurricanes and
their effects, sponsored by Poynter and the Dart Center for Journalism
and Trauma. Another group of journalists gathered near Biloxi for
a similar conference.
News directors and editors, reporters, photojournalists and others
told and retold stories of the storms: Katrina, Rita, and for at least
one Miami journalist, stories of Wilma.
They talked about the shocks. David Vincent, news director of
WLOX-TV Biloxi, told of his station’s work while Hurricane Katrina blew
off portions of the station’s roof. “We huddled in the hall and
kept reporting,” he said. “We had a table set up for the anchors.
It was really pretty dangerous.”
Earlier, Anzio Williams, news director at WDSU-TV, New Orleans, told
of sending out teams of journalists to the Superdome, an emergency
response headquarters in the Hyatt Regency hotel and other sites that
were supposed to be safe. As the hurricane hit and the levees
broke, all the locations failed. He and others went from
telephones to cell phones — and then to text messaging – in efforts to
find staffers and report the news.
Stories abounded of living in offices or in the homes of colleagues
for weeks at a time. The pre-hurricane drill for staffers included
evacuating families. Like other residents, many members of news
staffs found that damage prevented them from returning home after the
storm had subsided.
“The station’s generator provided power so many of us stayed there,”
said Dan Gresham, morning anchor/producer at KFDM-TV Beaumont.
Vicki Zimmerman, news director of WAFB-TV in Baton Rouge, said her
house became a camp-out site for some, including journalists sent from
out of town by her corporate office. “There were about 11 there
at one point,” she said. “We worked long hours and they were a big
help.”
Much of the conversation during the conferences revealed pride in
the coverage. Zimmerman said one of her station’s goals was “to
minimize harm.” That caused the station to shy away from some
stories on weapons sales in Baton Rouge to avoid inflaming a city rife
with rumors of rapes and gunfire.
Paul Cloos, assistant managing editor
of the Mobile Register, said his station sent a reporter to New Orleans
after readers in Mobile kept telling the newspaper stories of violence
in New Orleans. He said that the result was that the Register was
among the first to report that many of the claims of violence were
untrue.
As conversations continued, a deeper effect of the storm emerged.
Roger Simpson, executive director of the Dart Center for Journalism and
Trauma, led participants in the Biloxi/Gulfport group in talking about
how they have changed. They spoke of sleeplessness, irritability
and anxiety about next year’s hurricane season. Some spoke of
guilt at suffering only minor damage as they witnessed so much loss
around them.
The roads from New Orleans to Gulfport reveal the long-term
destruction from the storm that greets residents. Along I-10,
some shopping areas and housing complexes are quiet. Houses sit askew
and windows are missing. Highway billboards sag at odd angles,
some large metal poles bend in half.
Across from the beaches of Gulfport, trees dangle ghostly white and
colored objects: paper, clothes, shredded sheets and towels, pieces of
businesses and lives. Only the inner frames of hotels
remain. All that’s left of restaurants are signs, some saying
that they will return. The steeples of historic, stately churches
rise but missing windows and doors reveal that the insides are empty.
A car pulls over and two tourists jump out. One takes a
picture while the other smiles before a backdrop of what used to be.
Nearby, an older woman wanders through a yard, searching through what’s
left. Small signs crowd the ground near intersections advertising for
painters, haulers and roofers. For some poorer areas, the
devastation doesn’t look new. It’s a reminder that some folks
have lived in the middle of a storm much of their lives.
Traffic hassles add to the misery. A westbound bridge is out
along I-10 near Slidell, so the eastbound lanes divide to serve both
directions. That causes major back-ups for those leaving New
Orleans in the afternoon. Many intersections operate as four-way
stops in the absence of swept away traffic signals or
electricity.
Journalists live with their own stresses while reporting on those of
others. At last week’s meetings, they spoke quietly of friends
who avoid church because they don’t want to see others, of loved ones
who had white collar jobs but now spend their days as laborers in the
clean-up and repair.
Roger Simpson of the Dart Center explained
that post-traumatic stress was once believed to be caused by unexpected
events, but doctors are beginning to agree that it also results from
the cumulative effect of listening to others’ distress.
Journalists in the gulf would qualify for both causes.
Simpson reminded them that the symptoms they described, including
headaches and forgetfulness, were typical of stress. He led them
through a process aimed at helping them understand it and deal with it.
“We need to look at stress in individuals, in the newsroom and in the community,” he said.
Most organizations have stories of staffers who left their jobs
after the storm. Some took early retirement, jobs elsewhere or
simply decided to leave.
In the long post-hurricane phase, journalists continue to inform and
lead their communities. As the groups met Friday, the New Orleans
Times Picayune front page announced federal plans for a $3.1 billion
outlay to rebuild levees. The page featured a picture of Mayor
Ray Nagin and President George Bush shaking hands. There was also
news about phone service and a feature on the reunion of two Canadian
tourists and the New Orleans family that helped them escape flooding.
On the day before the conference the Biloxi Sun Herald carried an editorial
saying attention is turning away from destruction in
Mississippi. It said the devastation of the storm,
particularly in Mississippi, cannot be forgotten.
The weekend gave journalists a chance to repair and compare.
To hear from others who have covered communities after devastation and
to rethink their craft skills and their approaches to the news.
After guests fly away, these journalists continue on. If things
are to change in the battered coast, the news media will have to bind
its wounds and keep covering the storm.
