Category Archives: journalism

It’s What We Do

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We are replacing today’s usual reflection on life by Dr. Frank Crane with a reflection on a regrettable reaction by our governor to a good piece of journalism in which the journalist did what journalists are supposed to do journalistically and did what a good citizen should have done ethically.

In all my years of covering Missouri politics I have never heard of any of our top leaders suggest a reporter should be jailed for giving the state a chance to correct a serious problem before a story was published.

Let’s be clear:

There is nothing wrong with testing whether the information about us held by government is safely held.  You would expect a journalist to defend another journalist who was able to prove some private information held by the Department of Elementary and Secondary Education wasn’t so private after all.

And I am.

Good journalists test and challenge systems, people, programs, and policies to see if they are what they claim to be.  It’s a responsibility we have.  If I can get information about you that the government claims is protected, how safe are you from those who want that information for malicious purposes?

We were involved in just such an issue many years ago and it exposed a weakness in state government that could have exposed everybody’s most important private information.  This is the story, as I remember it.

Steve Forsythe was the bureau chief for United Press International back then. In those days there were two highly-competitive national wire services.  Steve’s office in the capitol was next door to the Associated Press office in room 200 , which now is carved up into several legislative offices.

One day, Steve called the Department of Revenue because he couldn’t find his previous year’s income tax return, something he needed for the current year’s return.  Could the department send him a copy of his previous year’s return?  Yes, he was told. What’s your address? And a few days later it showed up in his mail box.

Steve was a helluva reporter who instantly realized what had happened.   The Missourinet was a UPI client.  He called me and we talked about what he had learned and we decided on a test.

We lured one of State Auditor Jim Antonio’s employees to call the department and use the same line that Steve had used. The department gladly agreed to mail the previous year’s tax return to her.

—except the return she asked for was that of State Revenue Director Gerald Goldberg.   And the address she gave was mine.

A few days later, a fat envelope arrived in my mailbox.

Steve and I went to the Jefferson Building that afternoon and, as I recall it, stopped Director Goldberg in the lobby as he was returning from lunch.  I handed him the envelope and asked him to open it.  He was stunned to see his personal state income tax return inside it.  There was a brief moment of, I suppose we could say, anger. But as Steve explained to him why we had done what we had done, he calmed down.  On the spot he said he’d immediately look into the situation.  I don’t think he wound up thanking us but we didn’t expect any thanks.

We could have asked for anybody’s tax return, I suppose, even Governor Teasdale’s although that might have been a harder ask.  But this was bad enough.

There naturally was a certain amount of hand-wringing and anguish and probably some hostile thoughts about two reporters who were not known as friendly toward the administration to begin with pulling a stunt like this. But rather quickly, the department recognized that we had not opened that envelope and we had not looked at the director’s return, had not made any beneficial use of the information, had not yet run a story, and that we certainly did not intend anything malicious in our actions.

Antonio was less than enthusiastic that we had used one of his trusted employees as a tool for our investigation, but he also recognized the problem we had pinpointed.

The department almost immediately changed its policies to outlaw accepting telephone requests such as the ones that led to the stories UPI and The Missourinet later ran and instituted a process designed to protect the confidentiality of those returns.

From time to time in later years I wondered if I should see if the department’s policies had slipped back to those days when Steve and I embarrassed it.   But I never did.   Every year, Nancy and I file our state tax returns and assume you can’t have them mailed to you with just a phone call.

I suppose Governor Teasdale could have demanded a criminal investigation of our actions but he didn’t.  His Department of Revenue just fixed the problem.  Steve went on to a long career with UPI, which eventually lost in the competition for wire service clients to the AP and closed its capitol bureau.  I went on to a long career with The Missourinet, which still serves a lot of radio stations in Missouri. We didn’t often care if we ruffled some feathers from time to time as long as we were reporting the truth—and that always was our goal.

Good reporters do what they are called to do—question, investigate, test, and report.  Sometimes those whose skirts that turn out to be dustier than they think they are don’t like the findings.

One big difference between the days when Steve’s tax return and the security of private information turned into a state policy-changing news story and today, when a reporter’s news story about the security of private information has led to threatened criminal charges, is the change in times. We are living in stressful times that not only breed physical and political disease, but tend to breed reactions that are less prudent than necessary.

But that won’t discourage good reporters from doing what they have a calling to do.  And the day it does, all of us are losers, even those who are embarrassed by what reporters find.

 

Food at It’s Best

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“Ignorance and laziness have won,” said retired British journalist John Richards a while ago.

Richards, who turned 96 when he made that observation, started the Apostrophe Protection Society about twenty years ago.  He crusaded for the correct use of the “much abused” apostrophe.  But he has given up.   He told the London Evening Standard late in 2019 there were two reasons for disbanding his organization: “One is that at 96 I am cutting back on my commitments and the second is that fewer organisations and individuals are now caring about the correct use of the apostrophe in the English Language. We, and our many supporters worldwide, have done our best but the ignorance and laziness present in modern times have won.”

His society was a small one.  Depressingly small, it seems.  He told the Standard he started the APS after he saw the “same mistakes over and over again.”  He hoped to find a half-dozen people who felt the same way.  He didn’t find a half-dozen.  Within a month of his announcement of the founding of the society, he said, “I received over 500 letters of support, not only from all corners of the United Kingdom, but also from America, Australia, France, Sweden, Hong Kong and Canada.

But that wasn’t enough (Note the apostrophe).

That sentence is an example of one of the three simple rules Richards has given for proper use of the apostrophe.

  1. They are used to denote a missing letter or letters.
  2. They are used to denote possession.
  3. Apostrophes are never used to denote plurals.

And there’s a corollary.  “It’s” only means “it is.”  The possessive version is “its.”  The cat had its breakfast.

Otherwise, this sign says “Food at it is best.”  The Towne Grill in Jefferson City isn’t (note the proper use of the apostrophe to symbolize the elimination of the letter “o”) going to change its (note proper use of the possessive) sign.  It has become an institution in Missouri’s capital city, a quirky but incorrect use of the apostrophe that is part of the city’s (proper use of the apostrophe to denote the possessive) culture.

The Apostrophe Protection Society seems so English.  The story about it reminded us of Professor Henry Higgins in Lerner & Lowe’s Broadway musical “My Fair Lady,” of a half-century ago.  Professor Higgins decided to teach an untutored London flower girl to speak proper English and lamented:

An Englishman’s way of speaking absolutely classifies him
The moment he talks he makes some other Englishman despise him
One common language I’m afraid we’ll never get
Oh, why can’t the English learn to

Set a good example to people whose
English is painful to your ears?
The Scots and the Irish leave you close to tears
There even are places where English completely disappears

In America, they haven’t used it for years!

To end this on a couple of more serious notes:

First, John Richards died earlier this year—March 30.  He was 97. Mr. Richards’s Washington Post obituary is at: https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/obituaries/john-richards-dead/2021/04/25/9c7c1994-a425-11eb-a774-7b47ceb36ee8_story.html.

Second, I had a friend named Ed Bliss who used to write news for Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite at CBS.  Ed, who died several years ago, often conducted newswriting seminars at our conventions of news directors. I can still hear him say, “We have become a nation slovenly with language. The slovenliness in grammar, punctuation, and spelling is all about us.”

If we lack respect for our language in speaking and writing, we limit our abilities as a people to communicate effectively and we damage the trust we can have in one another. Today, we shout more than we speak; we talk but we don’t listen; we tweet more than we write; we dismiss one another with disparaging personal assessments.  In the midst of this noise, this transformation of the grace of our language into crudeness, it is no wonder that a group that upheld something as small as an apostrophe should feel that “ignorance and laziness” have won.

It’s not just the continued improper use of apostrophes that should concern us.  Our language deserves better use than we are making of it. We cannot respect one another if we do not respect the language we use with one another.

 

How to identify political corruption

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I lost a good friend a year ago (March 12) when Tracy Wood stopped living with cancer. She was 76.  The Los Angeles Times called her “a hard-charging reporter who broke through the male-dominated press corps to cover the Vietnam War and later helped The Times win a Pulitzer [Prize] for its coverage of the L.A. Riots.”

Tracy, a United Press International correspondent in Vietnam, became the only woman to serve as president of the Association of Foreign Correspondents in Vietnam.  She worked in the UPI bureau at the California Capitol and let Nancy and me go with her to a Ronald Reagan news conference on the day we dropped in on her. She was a founding member of the editorial staff of the Voice of OC, a non-profit digital news operation founded when Orange County’s newspaper went away in the Los Angeles area. She thrived on investigating corrupt politicians and bureaucrats.

The photo is from a book about Tracy and the few other women correspondents who covered the Vietnam War,  War Torn. Among other things, she covered the release by the North Vietnamese of American POWs, including the release of John McCain.

I remember her because she was a New Jersey girl who came to the University of Missouri intending to go to the School of Journalism.  She left school before she got her degree but she taught me how to play bridge (badly) and a friend of ours, Richard Montgomery, and I taught her how to sop gravy with pieces of bread, a Midwestern practice totally unknown, apparently, in New Jersey.  I consider the experience a valuable cultural exchange.

She wrote an article once headlined “The Ingredients of Corrupt Governments.” It’s good to keep what she wrote in mind.

Corruption doesn’t happen by accident. Here’s a rundown of tools used worldwide by corrupt leaders.

  • Patronage and its siblings, nepotism and cronyism. Government leaders appoint loyalists and relatives to posts without requiring them to have the experience and qualifications needed to perform the job competently. Patronage employees also often work on government time or resources to ensure their patron or patroness gets re-elected. The result is bureaucracies that exist solely to stay in power, not serve the public good.
  • Secrecy, one of the most valuable tools of a corrupt government. In the U.S., in spite of decades-old state and federal laws that mandate government openness, corrupt officials still try to hide their meetings and communications with lobbyists and others who influence their decisions. Lack of transparency is the canary in the coal mine signaling government corruption.
  • Attacking and even shutting down a free press. The No. 1 enemy of a corrupt ruler is a free and unfettered press. That is why you’ll see authoritarian rulers in places like China, North Korea, Vietnam, the Middle East and Russia — go to great lengths to stop journalists from doing their work. For example, China this month sentenced a 71-year-old reporter to seven years in prison, according to the Los Angeles Times,because she obtained an internal Communist Party document and leaked it to a U.S. based news organization. The document she got, the Times said, “urged tighter ideological control over Chinese society and warned against promoting judicial independence, media freedom and civil society.”
  • Cash, gifts or assets handed or promised to a government official in exchange for an official favor, like a vote, or for using his or her influence to benefit the briber.
  • Contracting/procurement. It’s a universal practice of corrupt government officials. Make sure government contracts or other payments go to supporters, even if others are more qualified to do the work.
  • Financial accountability. Corrupt governments fear exposure and one way to prevent it is to falsify, minimize or simply not allow strong financial audits.
  • Election fraud. Rigged elections, which unfortunately are commonplace throughout the world, undermine the foundation of democracy. Orange County has acted to combat its own election abuses. For example, then-GOP Assemblyman Curt Pringle and the Republican Party paid a $400,000 federal court settlement after they stationed guards at 20 Santa Ana polling places in 1988 in what those who filed suit alleged was an attempt to intimidate Hispanic voters.Eight years later, former Pringle aide and current county executive Mark Denny was one of three GOP workers convicted of election fraud as part of a scheme to manipulate an Assembly election by illegally circulating nominating petitions for a decoy candidate.
  • One-sided justice. Corrupt officials everywhere use law enforcement to go after political foes but protect—or simply don’t prosecute—their supporters or those who are friends of their allies. In some cases, they avoid enforcing the law against their backers by simply not equipping their offices with professionals who are good enough at their jobs to prosecute political crimes. In that case, even if they are forced to bring charges against a supporter, there is little likelihood of a conviction.
  • Keeping voters at a distance. The rise of professional political consultants over the past half-century has made it easier for corrupt politicians to get elected and re-elected because direct mail and other campaign tools allow them to avoid personal contact with voters. Officials truly interested in representing their constituents, meet face-to-face and listen to small groups representing a range of views. Sarah Chayes, in “Thieves of State, Why Corruption Threatens Global Security,”emphasizes the importance of all government leaders holding such small group meetings. Among other things, it reduces the ability of unethical aides to filter information that reaches the top leaders. And it gives leaders accurate information about public concerns.
  • Deliberately running yes-men—and now women—for office. Behind-the-scenes power brokers keep control by seeking out and running women and men who will take orders. Even better, finding candidates who will do what they believe their benefactors want without being told. That includes elected women and men who bully those around them or only think of government as a way to make themselves important, as well as financially better off.

Resources for government corruption information:

In another article in 2015 in which she recalled the corruption of the South Vietnamese government, Tracy warned, “…All governments, not just those at war, suffer when corruption takes hold.  The corrosive effects of government corruption can be seen wherever the symptoms appear, like political patronage, attempts to stifle the free press, government secrecy—and where complacency takes hold of the electorate.”

Tracy was not one for conspiracy theories, not one to think all people in politics are corrupt (because almost all of them aren’t). She recognized corruption and went after it, though, as all good reporters do.

She also knew corruption will take root when the complacent public ignores its responsibility to pay attention, to think for itself, to ignore those who try to make them think they are victims rather than partners in government, and to support and elect the best people.

Every couple of years we have a chance to recognize that responsibility.

 

Journalist vs. citizen

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The criticism of Bob Woodward for not making public sooner our president’s remarks indicating he had early knowledge of the dangers of the coronavirus but chose not to tell the public rekindles an old and probably unresolvable question.

Is a reporter a citizen first or a journalist first?  The question probably has been raised most often when a cameraman or a reporter shoots video of a bad event happening without personally intervening to limit or prohibit harm to one or the other of the participants.

The issue has a broader context in the time of cell phone videos that lately have become triggers for more events. At what point does a citizen have a responsibility to put away a cell phone and step in to keep harm from happening to a fellow citizen? It’s not just the reporter who must make a split-second decision. The potential now exists for all of us.

Woodward is being criticized for not revealing the president’s (we think) terrible decision to conceal the dangers of the virus while assuring the public for several weeks that everything was under control and would be fine.  While the president claimed he did not want to cause a panic, anyone with any knowledge of history knows this nation does not panic. It has reflected uncertainty but it relatively quickly has steadied itself and acted. It did not panic after 9-11. It got angry. It picked up pieces. It mourned. It exhibited empathy and sympathy and dedication.

When Pearl Harbor was bombed, the nation did not panic. It gathered itself, dedicated itself to necessary steps to fight back.

In those two instances, we went to war.

Name your historical catastrophe and you won’t find national panic. We have a tendency to absorb our tragedies, mourn our losses, and take necessary steps to come back. We might hazard the observation that a president who doesn’t understand that lacks a significant understanding of his country.

If the president wouldn’t shoot straight with the people, should Woodward have stepped forward? And when?

Let’s turn to the Poynter Institute, a journalism think tank if you will that studies issues within journalism—including ethics.  Al Tompkins is a senior faculty member and someone I highly respect.  He asked whether it was ethical for Woodward to withhold that information: https://www.poynter.org/ethics-trust/2020/was-it-unethical-bob-woodward-to-withhold-trumps-coronavirus-interviews-for-months/

The institute’s senior media writer, Tom Jones, had his take: https://www.poynter.org/newsletters/2020/more-fallout-from-bob-woodwards-book-on-donald-trump/

We don’t expect you to read all the way through these pieces; we present them to show that journalists face issues such as this every day, just about, and we do not treat them cavalierly.  The stories are seldom as severe as the coronavirus. But the issue of when a reporter has enough to go to press or to put it on the air is something we face a lot.

Rushing a story into print or onto the air without waiting for the context of the story to develop might do no one any good.

We are not sure Woodward should have released that first tape with our president as the president was saying telling the public that everything was under control and the fifteen present cases soon will be down to zero.  The dilemma grows as circumstances change and additional interviews are recorded with additional actions and words—or the lack of them—that make the story more important.  When does the weight of the accumulated information reach a tipping point? And as events advance, what is the best way to handle a changing tipping point?  Reporters sometimes reach a point of asking whether releasing the information will stop the story’s evolution or whether the public is better served by letting the story keep unravelling.  Does the reporter have a responsibility to a public figure to keep that person from digging a deeper hole for himself or herself? Or is it an ethical violation to tell that person to quit shoveling?   This reporter never felt he had any business telling an office-holder he should not be doing troubling acts. But there were plenty of times when it became clear that public awareness of a situation was paramount.

At a certain point, some stories move beyond the ability of the reporter to stop observing and start writing. The evaluation of when that point is reached is purely subjective. When is the time to get off the horse although the horse keeps moving?  Why not wait to see where the horse goes?

Did Bob Woodward have to sit on those tapes as long as he did?  If not, when should he have written the story?  And would writing the story have made any difference in the president’s attitude and actions?  Would publishing the story earlier have saved any lives?  Or would the president have just dismissed the story as more fake news and continued his course?

There also are times when promises are made by a reporter to get a source to divulge information. We don’t know if there was such an arrangement in this case but the reporter-source relationship is essential to the eventual flow of information and promises of anonymity or promises of holding information that is only part of a story must be honored, uncomfortable though it might be for the reporter.

We don’t know about that relationship and speculation about the potential benefits of early release of information is not our long suit. But the issue is a complicated one and it is far easier to analyze the issue after the fact than when the reporter is caught up in the events developing around him or her.

These questions however ignore the central issue and the central issue is not what Bob Woodward learned and did not report.

President Trump knew what Bob Woodward knew before Woodward knew it.  Our president knew about this virus first. He could have reacted differently and many think he should have done so. Maybe Woodward should have reported the information sooner. But the person who could have acted differently than he did because he had the information first, did not.

Which of them bore the primary responsibility for alerting the public to the danger it was going to face?

Bottom line: Actions speak louder than words. If actions had been taken by the president then, words today from Bob Woodward might not have the impact they are having.

In fact, they might not even be a story, let alone a book.

Medical ink

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(The media took some not-unexpected bashing during the Republican National Convention last week. It bashed back by pointing out the numerous misleading and false claims that fell from the lips of various speakers. There also were misleading and false claims in the Democratic convention that were pointed out although one fact-checker said the challenged “truths” of the entire Democratic National Convention “didn’t have the number of misleading and false claims made on the first night of the Republican convention.” In a time when medical treatments for a terrible disease are almost desperately sought, and fact-checking has become more necessary in contemporary medical as well as political circles,  it might be time to turn to Dr. Frank Crane, a retired Presbyterian minister-turned-newspaper columnist whose writings were widely published a century ago when he referred to—-)

PRINTERS’ INK AS A MEDICINE

Printers ink is saving more lives than any other single agency employed by modern health-workers,” said Edward A. Moree, assistant secretary of the New York State Charities Aid Association, in an address at Rochester the other day.

Right for him!

Printers’ ink is the essential liquor of democracy. Kings hate it. All the manipulators of privilege dread it. It is poison to the tyrant of the Old World and the boss of the New.

It is the “sine qua non” of liberty. Liberty to human souls is what light is to human bodies.

Where there is no liberty there is darkness. Where there is darkness there is disease.

It is printers’ ink that has scared the food fakers. Only at a good round of printers’ ink will the vile, carrion flock of unclean birds that fatten on human credulity and ignorance take flight, they that sell plaster of Paris for bread, carpenter’s glue for candy, and God knows what vileness for fish, flesh, and fowl.

Printers’ ink has prevented more tuberculosis than all the doctors have cured. It has spread right ideas of sanitation, upset old mildewed superstitions, opened windows, lured people outdoors, flooded fearsome brains with truth and despairing hearts with hope.

It has built hospitals and supports them.

It has prevented epidemics, driven hush-mouth authorities to activity in remedial measures of cleansing. Cholera and smallpox were conquered by it; malaria and yellow fever flee before it.

It is all well enough to give an individual Epsom salts or calomel, but what the public needs for what ails it is plenty of printers’ ink.

There is some value in the medical profession, but also a deal of hocus-pocus, as there is in everything that becomes professionalized. The best part of the science of medicine is that part which can be told in plain language so that the common man can understand. Every newspaper ought to have its health department.

What people need to know is the truth about health, about food, and about simple living. The more truth they know the less drugs they will take, the less useless and harmful food they will eat, and the less they will run after religious cure-alls and crazy fads.

The newspaper is the health of the state.

“You may cure individuals of their ills in the privacy of the sickroom,” says Mr. Moree, “but to cure the public of its ills you must get into the newspapers.”

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If you want to read a more complete version of Moree’s feelings about health and newspapers, you can go online and find an article he wrote for The American Journal of Public Health, February, 1916. The article is “Public Health Publicity: The Art of Stimulating and Focusing Public Opinion.”  https://ajph.aphapublications.org/doi/10.2105/AJPH.6.2.97 He  also wrote on “Public Health and Politics.” https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/000271621606400114

 

 

Innocent

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A brief observation about the vote on President Trump’s impeachment:

One of the things we journalists were taught early in our careers is that a “not guilty” verdict in a criminal court case does not mean the accused person is innocent. It only means the prosecution failed to convince the jury “beyond a reasonable doubt” of the guilt of the accused.

Another word sometimes erroneously used after such trials: “exoneration.” Finding someone “not guilty” does not absolve someone from blame, which is what “exoneration” means.

The partisan nature of the vote on the impeachment articles aside, the outcome in no way bestows innocence on President Trump. If the results would have been identical but reversed they would not have bestowed guilt.

To use a tired phrase, it is what it is. Claiming it is more is dishonest.

Of course, all of this is lost in today’s world of “Forever Trumpers” vs. “Never Trumpers,” a world in which reason, perspective, and understanding of a process are lost in the shouting.

But somebody had to mention this and it might as well have been mentioned here.

There is a third word that is appropriate: acquit.

The word “acquit” seems to be a better fit. The Senate vote discharged the president from the accusations against him, which is one meaning of the word.   There is a second meaning: to conduct oneself in a proper way, particularly in stressful situations

So now that the president has been acquitted, we shall see how he acquits himself, to use both definitions in the same sentence.

 

Courage

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I find myself using the word “courage,” or at least thinking of the word, too often in observations about our political world at state and national levels. It takes courage on both sides to break from partisan ideology, to challenge entrenched and powerful private influences, and to take stands that benefit the benign many more than the influential few. We wonder if lack of courage by those entrusted with leadership translates into lack of trust by those who think courage to truly provide for the common good is needed.

A poem by Yevgeny Yevtushenko comes to mind often these days. Yevtushenko was a Russian (and Soviet) writer, poet, novelist, and film producer whose works questioning and challenging Soviet authority led to his expulsion from the Gorky Institute for Literature, and a ban on travel. (Both of his grandfathers had been declared by Stalin to be “enemies of the people” twenty years earlier.)

In 1961, he wrote a poem he called “Conversation with an American Writer.”

“You have courage,” they tell me.

It is not true.

I was never courageous.

I simply felt it unbecoming

To stoop to the cowardice of my colleagues.

 

I simply mocked at pretense and inflation.

I wrote articles, scribbled no denunciations,

And tried to speak all on my mind.

 

Yes, I defended men of talent,

branding the hacks, the would-be writers.

But this, in general, we should always do,

And yet, they keep stressing my courage.

 

Oh, our descendants will burn with bitter shame

To remember when punishing vile acts,

That most peculiar time

When plain honesty

Was labeled “courage.”

 

We suspect many people today would appreciate that kind of courage, seeing instead only bowing to power in the interest of personal security.

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Bob

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More than forty years ago, in the months before we set up The Missourinet, when we were still in local radio in Jefferson City, a new guy showed up to cover city council meetings. He was working for a then-new FM station that hadn’t shown much in terms of news coverage but he’d been hired as the news director and he arrived determined to carve a place in this market for a new news voice.

I was impressed with this kid right away. And I was impressed with him right up to the day he died, Sunday, a third day after gall bladder removal surgery.

I liked Bob Watson’s ambition and his work ethic right away. He wanted to be part of the Missourinet when we started it and I kept putting him off through several cycles of new reporters on our staff because I didn’t want to tell him he just didn’t have the kind of voice we wanted to have on the air. I respected his commitment to reporting, his desire to be a good reporter, the persistence he brought to his work. On top of that, he was a good guy. But finally, I forced myself to break the news to him. I was sorry I had to disappoint him.

Bob left the radio station and worked for the local television station where his conscientious behind-the-scenes role shaped the content of the newscasts. Fortunately, Betty Weldon, the owner of the News-Tribune, saw in Bob Watson the kind of reporter she wanted on her newspaper staff. She hired him more than thirty years ago; Bob said it was the best thing that ever happened to him. That is where he carved his place. In years to come, when people look at the microfilms of the newspaper for the last thirty years they will find the byline of Bob Watson everywhere in the News-Tribune. I used to joke that there were times when he wrote the entire front page. While he might not have really done that, he came darned close a lot of times. His passion for reporting is reflected in the volume and the quality of solid reporting on those pages.

Mrs. Weldon died several years ago and the family sold the newspaper to an Arkansas-based company that, unlike many businesses that are buying the media today, maintains a high standard of local news coverage. A few months ago it named Bob its employee of the year.

He was the statehouse reporter for the newspaper and was a tenacious questioner of governors and lawmakers—-there were times when some of his colleagues had to force themselves to interrupt him to get OUR questions in. He, as all good reporters, hated vagueness and contradictions from the newsmakers. He never backed down in questioning their statements or their intentions. I knew when I read a Bob Watson story that it was accurate, balanced, and thoroughly-developed.

We sat at the Senate press table for many years, both of us at times going into what I call “screen saver mode,” Bob because he dealt with a sleep disorder and me because my work day had passed the eight-hour mark by 1 p.m. most of the time. Both of us always had our recorders running so we didn’t miss anything.

Bob’s coat pockets always bulged with pens of multiple colors. He had a color-coded system of note-taking of some kind that I never asked him to explain. His notes were always neat, his handwriting always clear—while most of us at the table filled notebooks with scrawls that only we could read.

One of his last stories was published on the anniversary of the first moon landing. It was about the reunion of the Apollo 11 astronauts with their space capsule that happened to be at the state capitol on July 20, 1970. Bob knew that I had broadcast the event and he tracked me down at a family gathering in Colorado for an interview. He wasn’t feeling well and had taken a rare day off from work the day before and still wasn’t back up to snuff but he had to get the story, had to find the person he wanted to interview, wanted to tell the tale.

That’s a good reporter for you. As long as you can drag yourself to the keyboard, there’s reporting to be done, a story to be told.

One thing Bob did that I never have done—-a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/reporterbob

You’ll find a lot of his own words and informal photos that capture the spirit we’ll remember, his joy of being a journalist, his love of his family (official and unofficial families), a bit of his self-deprecating humor, and a face that says kindness, steadfastness, and  “character” in both senses of the word.

We have lost invaluable institutional memory. We have lost a good friend, a man who committed his life to good journalism, a newsroom mentor. His church has lost a willing worker, a good soul. His children have lost a proud parent, his grandchildren a proud grandfather. All of us have richer lives because God gave us Bob.

When I dropped in at his room at St. Mary’s hospital Saturday, the day after his surgery and shortly after the nurses had gotten him up for his a post-surgery shuffle to the end of the hall and back, I asked him, “Watson, what’s a good Presbyterian boy like you doing in a place like this?” He took it in all good humor. We talked for a few minutes but just before I left I said, “You know, people are going to start asking, ‘How can you have the gall to ask that question?’ after this.”

“You don’t have to have a gall bladder to have gall,” he answered with a weak smile.

That was Bob Watson.

(The photo is from the News Tribune “contact” page)

 

Notes from a quiet (and perhaps flooded) street

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Might one offer an observation about the extensive coverage of rainfall by the television weatherfolk?    They do an excellent job when weather is awful except for one thing.

What does it mean when they say the Missouri River is expected to crest at—for example—32.3 feet at Jefferson City?   Will there be 32 feet of water over the Jefferson City Airport?  Or in the River Bottom area west of the Capitol?  Will the community garden in what once was Cedar City (and the nearby Highway 63) have 32 feet of water over it?

Uh, no.

When we did flood stories at the Missourinet, we never used numbers like that.  Here’s why.

Flood stage at Jefferson City is 23 feet.   That means that a Corps of Engineers river gauge is someplace that measures the bank of the Missouri River at 723 feet above sea level.  The altitude changes as the river flows east or downhill. (Bank full at Washington is only 720 feet, or “20 feet” as is commonly said.)  Any water higher than that means the river is out of its banks.

So, 32 feet means the river is nine feet above bank full at Jefferson City.  It always seemed to us to be more meaningful to report the river was expected to crest nine feet over flood stage.  And a flood stage at 30.2 feet at Washington means the river will be about ten feet above bank full there.  Nine feet and ten feet are more meaningful to people who are five-feet-ten inches tall than thirty-two feet.

The record flood crest at Jefferson City in 1993, by the way was 38.65 feet, or as we reported it, 15.65 feet over flood stage.   There’s a graphic example of the accuracy of reporting flooding using the 15.65 feet standard we used.  Go to the restaurant at the airport and look at the markings on the door which record the levels of various floods.  The mark for the 1993 flood is almost at the ceiling level of the restaurant, about sixteen feet up, not thirty-two.

Having gotten that out of my craw—-

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A few days before the end of the legislative session, your observer watched some of the debate in the House about whether undocumented immigrants living in Missouri should be denied in-state tuition and financial aid when attending our state colleges and universities.

Among those banned from paying in-state tuition and financial assistance using tax dollars were the DACA people, children brought here at a young age by their undocumented parents.  The legislation says the state universities can use their own resources to provide that assistance or to make up the difference between in-state tuition and international student tuition.

The Columbia Daily Tribune had a story about then noting there were 6,000 people in Missouri approved for the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, or eligible for it.

 

A thought occurred during the discussion: Why couldn’t our universities, state or private, offer a course for those students that would lead to American citizenship, online for adults and especially for DACA high school students and current college students?  Might solve a few problems.

Might not be a bad idea to have a lot of our non-DACA students enroll, too.

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Come to think of it:  The capitol is awash in third-graders each spring, students who are taking their courses in Missouri government.   They sit in the visitors’ galleries for a few minutes and are introduced by their legislator and given a round of applause and then go downstairs to look at the old stage coach and the mammoth tooth.

It will be nine years before they graduate, months ahead of casting their first vote.  That’s a long time to remember what they saw and learned as third-graders.

I THINK I can remember the name of my teacher and the building I attended in third grade.  But that didn’t make me qualified to cast a learned vote the first time I had the chance to do so.

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I was driven out of retirement this year to lobby for the steamboat museum bill in the legislature.  The opportunity to help do something great for my town and my state forced me back into coat and tie more times in the last four months than I have worn them in the last four years. I found that I was regularly turning the wrong way to get to a meeting with a legislator in the most efficient way.  I had forgotten my way around the Capitol.

I confess there are some things I liked about being a lobbyist and being back in the capitol while the legal sausage was being made.  In all of my years as a reporter, my contacts with legislators were arms-length business arrangements.  As a lobbyist I got to spend a half-hour or more—sometimes less—in the office talking to lawmakers. And I met some REALLY interesting people, particularly the members of this year’s freshman class.

But, boy, did I miss my guilt-free naps. (A few times I hid behind a column in a side gallery of the House and snatched a doze—but those instances sometimes ran afoul of a school group that came in to see five minutes of debate that I’m sure didn’t teach them a darned thing about their government in action.  Or inaction.) And living by my own clock.  And going around in tennis shoes all day.  And going to the Y three days a week for the fellowship there that replaced the relationships I had while I was working.

But the chambers are dark and cool now.  And my naps have returned.  Until January when we take a stronger, better organized run at building a National Steamboat Museum in Jefferson City.  You’re welcome to join the effort.

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It was interesting to know that some things haven’t changed at all.  About three weeks before the end of the session, the place starts to get kind of squirrelly.  That’s about when the House gets all huffy because the Senate hasn’t turned fully to debating House-passed bills. And the Senate gets in a snit because the House hasn’t switched to Senate-passed bills.  And the budget isn’t done with the deadline looming.

 

In the second week, a purported compromise budget comes out and the chambers start and stop on no particular schedule depending on who’s filibustering what bill or which chamber thinks its conferees didn’t stand up for their chamber’s priorities, and whether to stop the entire process to have more conferences on a small part of a multi-billion dollar budget, and the Senate decides a “day” can actually last until sunrise the next morning or longer.

And the last week when legislators are like desert-crossing cattle who catch a whiff of water in the distance and scramble to get a bill dead a month ago resurrected and added to something moderately akin to the topic, thereby adding to the legend that “nothing is dead in the Senate until the gavel falls at 6 p.m. on the last Friday.”   And, oh, what a blessing that falling gavel is.

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The end of a session today is nothing compared to the days when the odd-year sessions ended at MIDNIGHT on June 15, usually with a “midnight special” appropriations bill just before adjournment that created funding for new programs approved during the session. The only people who knew what was in it likely were the people who hay-baled it together in the closing hours. Pandemonium hardly describes those nights when everybody was beyond exhaustion and more than a few were seriously—shall we say “impaired?”—because of social visits to numerous offices which were well-equipped with adult liquids.

 

And at midnight, many lawmakers went out to the Ramada Inn to celebrate surviving another session.  The Capitol press corps would start writing stories about the session, a process that was not nearly as much fun as falling in the swimming pool at the Ramada. Both groups would pack it in about sunrise—except for those of us who had newscasts all day Saturday.

One of the best things the legislature ever did was change the adjournment time to 6 p.m. on a Friday night.

Now—-

If we could only get rid of term limits now—–

 

Into the World

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It’s graduation season, the time when hundreds of thousands of young people will be leaving the family nest bound for college, the military, or independent grownup life.

They’re empty or near-empty vessels who will be filled with life experiences that might make them entirely different people in thirty years than they are now.  When they return for class reunions they will find with the passing years that are less a class and more a diverse community.

Kelly Pool, the former Centralia newspaper publisher who was the Secretary for the Capitol Commission Board that oversaw construction of the capitol lived to be ninety years old. Eventually he was editor emeritus of the Jefferson City Post-Tribune and wrote an entire newspaper page of reflections and inspirational thoughts each week for many years. In late 1943, he looked at the way people respond to the “youth will be served” slogan and found many people didn’t agree with it—although thousands of “youngsters” were fighting World War II.  But Pool argued the old saying is true and “more and more the world is coming to recognize the power and grandeur of youth.”

The world is young—always will be,” he wrote. “Youth will has always been in the vanguard,” he said as he put together a list to prove his point:

Alexander conquered the world at 26.

Napoleon made all Europe tremble at 25.

Cortez conquered Mexico at 26.

Alexander Hamilton led Congress at 36.

Clay and Calhoun led Congress at 29.

Henry Clay became speaker at 34.

Calhoun was secretary of war at 35.

Daniel Webster was without peer at 30.

Judge Story was on the supreme court at 32.

Goethe was a literary giant at 24.

Schiller was in the forefront of literature at 22.

Burns wrote his best poetry at 24.

Byron’s first work appeared at 19.

Dickens brought out “Pickwick Papers” at 24.

Schubert and Mozart died at less than 35.

Raphael ravished the world at 20.

Michelangelo made stone to live at 24.

Galileo’s great discovery was at 19.

Newton was at his zenith when only 25.

Edison harnessed lightning when only 23.

Martin Luther shook the Vatican at 20.

Calvin wrote his “Institute” at 21.

(“Judge Story” was a reference to Justice Joseph Story, 1779-1845, who is best known as the Justice who read the decision in the Amistad case. John Calvin as a post-Luther Reformation thinker and pastor whose writings led to the formation of Presbyterianism.)

All of which, wrote Pool, is that “our boys and girls should not let the precious hours of their youth be wasted. Begin early to make your mark in the world, and drive hard to become one of the youths who ‘will be served.”

J. Kelly Pool continued to write his “Kellygrams” pages each week for the newspaper until shortly before his death at the age of 90 in 1951.