It's Debatable

Don't know about you, but I sure wasn't ready for 2007 to be a campaign year. Nor was I quite ready for a series of televised debates among the announced candidates vying for both the Democratic and Republican presidential nominations. I prefer to watch the opposing nominees go after each other in the run-up to the general election, which is, ah yes, still 16 months away.

Nevertheless, it's difficult to escape the fact that we are, for all practical purposes, thick in the middle of Campaign 2008, regardless of what the calendar tells us. Debates have become de rigueur.

Just too bad they're so lame, note columnists Marie Cocco and Kathleen Parker. This week's Democratic cattle call in Charleston, S.C., caught their attention -- and not for the "historic" and "groundbreaking" reasons cited by others stage-struck by the fact that everyday people were asking questions that they had submitted to YouTube.

As Parker noted of one particular question: "Brilliant. If you're 5."

Or, as Cocco put it: "The idea was supposed to be revolutionary, a new force of democracy brought to bear upon the insularity that characterizes American presidential campaigns. The point was to pry out of the candidates something other than the utterly scripted, overly strategic responses that they usually give."

Didn't work.

"YouTube invites silliness, which is part of its appeal, but inviting so-called 'ordinary Americans' to film themselves posing questions to presidential candidates does not advance democracy, no matter how much hoopla we manufacture," wrote Parker.

"What anybody can do, anybody can do. Anyone can make a goofy video and ask a goofy question, but the man or woman intending to lead the free world should resist dignifying the charade."

And it left Cocco longing for a better way -- the way it used to be:

"There is something about the Internet that makes people feel they can be blunt or irreverent or even profane -- the language of instant messaging and e-mail. This isn't the tone at a traditional town hall meeting where candidates take questions, and where those asking the questions are amid their neighbors, co-workers and friends.

"Abandoning the electronic town hall and returning to the high school gym or church basement won't make presidential politics less democratic. Just a bit more decorous."

Ellen Goodman, meanwhile, wishes we could all be a bit more decorous when it comes to the dress of Hillary Clinton, former first lady, a U.S. senator and the front-runner in the Democratic race.

Her attention directed at a Washington Post article by Pulitzer Prize-winning fashion writer Robin Givhan discussing Sen. Clinton's modest display of cleavage, as captured by CSPAN 2, Pulitzer Prize-winning commentator Goodman commented:

"Only in Washington would a fashion reporter get tips watching C-SPAN2. But the Post piece managed to make a media mountain out of a half-inch valley. As one of the thousands who have scrutinized the black V-neck top on the Internet, I can attest that it barely (in both senses of the word) fits Wikipedia's definition of cleavage, as in: 'The cleft created by the partial exposure of a woman's breasts, especially when exposed by low-cut clothing.'"

Goodman asks for a little perspective here: "Do I notice what a woman wears? You bet. At the CNN/YouTube debate, Hillary was coral in a sea of gray. Watching her campaign, I'm glad she's finally gotten it right -- right colors, right style, right fit. I'd give her clothes the female presidential seal of approval. But is there one?

"In the end, the question is not whether a candidate can show a hint of breast but whether you can have breasts and be president."

Charles Krauthammer, it seems, would settle for moxie. Remarking on the one serious issue that came out of what some of his colleagues dismissed as a nonserious debate, Krauthammer concluded that Barack Obama got his clock cleaned by Clinton, both in the debate and in its aftermath.

He wrote that Obama's response to a question about meeting with leaders of rogue states was strike 2 in the Illinois senator's attempts to establish himself as experienced enough to be elected president.

"During our 1990s holiday from history, being a national security amateur was not an issue," penned Krauthammer. "Between the 1991 death of the Soviet Union and the terrorist attacks of 2001, foreign policy played almost no part in our presidential campaigns. But post-Sept. 11, as during the Cold War, the country demands a serious commander in chief. It is hard to imagine that with all the electoral tides running in their favor, the Democrats would risk it all by nominating a novice for a wartime presidency."

Still, observed E.J. Dionne Jr., Obama's bat might just be getting hotter. At least he's still at the plate.

"The eagerness with which Obama's camp kept the battle going reflected a cardinal rule in politics: Front-runners should be wary of picking fights with challengers," Dionne wrote. "In this case, Clinton allowed Obama to make one of her prime vulnerabilities, the Iraq vote, a central part of the campaign dialogue. She also let Obama place himself to her dovish side."

And Dionne left readers to contemplate whether this tussle in a debate more than a year before Election Day might not be looked upon some day as a turning point, rather than just a midsummer diversion:

"This dynamic, over a stray comment in a single debate, could be remembered as the moment that defined the Democratic presidential contest. Clinton faces trouble if she allows Obama a monopoly on the future."

Just remember folks, it's almost August. David Ignatius, surveying the passing scene, is ready for an escape -- with a good book.

"If ever there were a summer for escapist literature, this is it," he writes. "The news of the real world is so bleak that it's a blessing to retreat for a while into the imagined worlds of fiction. There is a character in Evelyn Waugh's 'A Handful of Dust' who, at the end of the book, flees London and is stranded in the Amazon jungle, where he is compelled to read the novels of Charles Dickens over and over again. That sounds pretty attractive right now."

Indeed it does. If you're an escapist, in the Amazon or just browsing Amazon, happy reading.

James Hill is managing editor of The Washington Post Writers Group.

Revisiting a Nightmare

Journalism reviews -- most notably, the Columbia Journalism Review and the American Journalism Review -- too often come off as exercises in navel-gazing.

I don't mean that as a putdown. It's just that by the time a journalism review gets hold of a good story, daily journalism has moved on in its never-ending chase to keep up with the news. Yesterday's issues are, well, yesterday's news.

But on occasion, a journalism review will carry a story so compelling that it should be required reading for everyone who practices the profession, from publishers down to news aides. Let me point you to one -- Rachel Smolkin's outstanding retrospective in the June/July edition of the American Journalism Review on the Duke University lacrosse team's collective nightmare in the national, and therefore media, spotlight.

There is no yesterday to this issue. The repercussions are still being felt, and will be for years to come. Careers were scuttled, reputations ruined, a great university tarnished -- all by a juicy story of pampered college jocks gone wild that turned out to not be true.

This was a story with red flags flying at topmast. For instance, about a month after the story slowly broke, columnist Kathleen Parker had seen enough reaction to write: "That pounding you hear is the sound of nails being driven into the hangman's gallows."

But the skepticism showed by Parker and a few others could do little to counter the Amen Corner. That so many reputable newspapers refused to look for the red flags is alarming; that so many cable talk shows picked up on faulty reporting and turned the story into a nationwide bar fight is shameful. We should all hang our heads.

What I find so astonishing in Smolkin's analysis is the number of news executives who try to justify the unjustifiable. She quotes Bill Keller, executive editor of The New York Times, as saying "I think we were a little slow to get traction on the story, frankly. Partly we were slow figuring out who had custody of the story: sports, national, investigative. It took us awhile to get specific people focused on this as their responsibility."

That might be bureaucrat-ese for "we blew it," but it sure doesn't quite convey the thought, does it? And what I found most shocking about Smolkin's investigation was the number of journalists -- editors, reporters, news anchors, commentators -- who refused to apologize, either for their individual actions or for the coverage of their news outlets. Ruth Sheehan of the Raleigh News & Observer, was the exception, after 14 columns about the case.

So, are there lessons learned from all of this? Here's Smolkin's take: "All too soon, the next lurid crime story will explode into the headlines. The media will have a chance to show what they learned from this fiasco. Will they remember that sometimes the accused are innocent? Will they proceed with caution, combing through the facts and avoiding sweeping generalizations? Will they remind viewers and readers, 'It looks bad now, but not all the evidence is in'?"

Her conclusion: "So does another rush to judgment await some hapless citizen thrust into the media's glare?

"Almost certainly."

As I said, required reading.

James Hill is managing editor of The Washington Post Writers Group.

And These Are the Filing Cabinets ...

Ah -- how lovely it is to be the intern.

No, seriously.

As someone fighting tooth and nail to break into the ever-expansive and yet oh-so-elusive journalism world, to have my first internship at The Washington Post is really quite exciting.

But let me back up. As I was packing my bags for Blacksburg, Va., three years ago, I was all set to have Virginia Tech educate me in vocal performance and physical therapy. Yes, I began as a student double-majoring in music and pre-med. You may have a quizzical expression on your face; I agree. What was I thinking? Even if those two majors weren’t incredibly labor intensive (albeit in very different ways) and polar opposites, what the heck would I do with that combination of degrees? But there was no telling me that at the time.

I quickly found biology to be a bit more formidable than I had thought (OK, so I’m terrible at science), and began to cycle through the change-of-major process, oh, at least five times in three semesters. Enough times to hear the following from my mother every time we spoke: “So, what’s your major this week? Going into forestry this time?”

Knowing that music will forever be a passion and that I can write well enough, it took a surprisingly long time for the perfect career to come to me: music criticism!

Brilliant! I can keep my music minor and continue to study privately, and add a communication major!

... Now what?

It was this section of my plans that resembled, in my mind’s eye, a big, ugly blinking cursor on a blank resume. Between education (check) and that dream job (being paid to go to performances I’d flock to anyway), there lay a bit of an obstacle: work experience.

I needed an internship. Or two.

Music criticism is a rather specific field. Of course there are publications such as Rolling Stone, which would’ve been terrific if I knew anything about pop music. Being classically trained with a love of jazz, I had no idea where to turn. So, I turned to newspapers, which do a little bit of everything.

Born and raised in Northern Virginia, I’ve grown up reading The Washington Post. Of course I knew that the Post reviewed shows, CDs, and other various performances. But it was a newspaper giant, one that I might meet after I’d been climbing the beanstalk for a few years.

I decided to apply for an internship at a D.C.-area music venue’s publication department. Weeks later, however, I thought, “Oh, what the heck? It can’t hurt to apply at the Post.”

Fast forward!

So here I am, the intern for The Washington Post Writers Group. Which, incidentally, has nothing to do with music criticism whatsoever.

We all know that the description for internships should read something like, “You will be doing the work that no one else wants to do. An enjoyment of databases and the ability to entertain yourself are preferred, but not required.”

Alas, this is the game we unemployed play. In order to break into the field of our choice, we must compete ferociously for internships. Only those with the highest GPA, most experience, best attitude and greatest willingness to work will be able to attain those coveted positions in which we … file and create spreadsheets.

I know this sounds very dark and gloomy, but an internship does, on the other hand, provide a wealth of opportunity. Forgetting the fact that this isn’t exactly my intended career path, the Writers Group is showing me the inner workings of the fifth highest circulating newspaper in the country. In addition, the Writers Group works closely with other newspapers worldwide, as the entire purpose is to market to those people in the syndication of its columns and features, so I’m gaining valuable insight into the business of writing. As every writer knows, getting someone to buy your pieces is the hardest part.

Oh, and did I mention that the Style section works right outside my office?

And so, I file with a smile and truly enjoy coming to work every day, with ears and eyes open.

Laura Massey is a summer intern for The Washington Post Writers Group. She has been a features reporter for the Collegiate Times in Blacksburg, Va. This fall she hopes to write a music column for a local online publication.

Aw, @#$% It!

Danged if I can find my source now, but, many years ago, I remember reading something Mort Walker wrote about the various marks that cartoonists use to convey emotion and cussing, and what he called such symbols. I don't recall reading his book The Lexicon of Comicana, but I suppose that's what it could have been. And I could have sworn he called them "emoticons." But since I can't find the book or anything else he wrote on the subject, and since what I DID find is all kinds of other words to refer to those symbols, I have to assume my porous memory is at fault. So I ask that you indulge me, please, in referring to them as "comics emoticons," or just "emoticons" for now.

Anyway, on July 9, along comes an e-mail from an editor taking issue with this Candorville strip and this one, complaining that newspaper readers "are not morons" and that "%@#$ doesn't really hide anything."

This is breaking news: EDITOR ADMITS READERS AREN'T MORONS. If I had a dollar for every editor who told me his/her readers "wouldn't understand" something, I wouldn't be typing this right now; I'd be sailing.

I happily concede the assertion that newspaper readers aren't morons.

Next point: Are emoticons insufficient if they represent an actual cuss word that a newspaper's readers (who, I have already conceded, are not morons) can figure out?

Well, if you go back to that first strip, TWO words come to mind as possible substitutions. One would of course be the F-bomb and the other would be the word for a little metal fastener. Not quite as offensive but still worthy of emoticons for polite newspaper readers. For the second one, a couple of words come to mind. Still, if this were the Match Game, odds are I'd be six-for-six with the celebs. But maybe not. A sometimes hyphenated, sometimes compound word (see last graf) is another contender, also worthy of an emoticon veil.

But back to that first one...I suppose if you don't read the newspaper or surf the Internet or watch the nightly news or The Daily Show, you might automatically go for the little metal fastener-type word because a polite person would assume a less offensive word. (Except that a polite person wouldn't admit even knowing the less offensive phrase.) But newspaper readers would assume the emoticon represented the F-bomb. Because they, not being morons, know that CHENEY SAID IT on the floor of the senate.

Sigh...the problem, it seems, is that we expected too much politeness of our newspaper readers. We expected them not to ADMIT they got it. They were supposed to ever-so-slightly blush -- not at the thought of the word itself, no, but at their superior intelligence in comprehending the cartoonist's intent. Superiority is a quality one is too humble to acknowledge about oneself. Except when someone else is being rude to one, but then one is only allowed to think it (albeit no blushing required).

I guess this is what happens when our leaders go around peppering their prattle with profanity in public. The veil of politeness is shoplifted -- swiped from the shelves of our organized society. Consequently, a wonderful little convention that cartoonists invented is being all politically corrected now. It's not enough for them to use the emoticons; cartoonists must obscure the obscenity to the point of leaving readers scratching their heads, not getting the joke. Because the joke is that the Angler is at times as foul-mouthed as crabbers on the Chesapeake. (Er, if you're a crabber on the Chesapeake and take offense to this statement, I'll apologize if you promise to keep your crab pot floats out of the float-free channels. Because having to navigate through a field of crab pot floats makes a sailor cuss like, well, a sailor.)

But, and this is a big but, comic strip cartoonists, like newspaper editors, are in the news and entertainment business. They have important, humorous things to communicate to readers. And I, as a comics editor, do too.

So if I tell you that I heard someone say "the F-word" or "the word for female dog" or "the-word-for-a-metal-fastener you" or "aw, H-E-double-hockey sticks," I expect you to assume it's a euphemism -- the emoticon equivalent -- that I find necessary in order to communicate something that I think is important, or that I think you will think is very funny, but that I'm too polite to ACTUALLY say.

At least to you.

Amy Lago is comics editor of The Washington Post Writers Group.

AH, NOSTALGIA

Jack Shafer of the online journal Slate is one of the better media critics around, so when he has something to say, journalists take notice.

Shafer departed a bit from the usual mix of media criticism this week to take his readers down memory lane -- specifically, 1972, the year of the Watergate break-in, continued negotiations to end the Vietnam War, the Richard Nixon re-election effort, detente with the Soviet Union, follow-ups to the opening with China, and a U.S. tour by the Rolling Stones. In news terms, it was a very good year.

What Shafer wanted to examine was how two of the country's premier dailies -- The Washington Post and The New York Times -- covered such momentous events at a time when their news staffs were roughly half the size they are today. His verdict: Not bad.

And not altogether by staff, either. He notes that of the Page One stories in The Post of July 6, 1972, two were provided by wire services and one from The Manchester Guardian.

Another thing catches Shafer's eye: The Post and The Times were much thinner then. Sports, business and feature sections were a shadow of what they are now. The Post ran about half the comics it does today (the Post picked up most of the comics from The Washington Star when that newspaper folded in the early 1980s).

"The 1972 Times and the Post place greater reliance on more short wire stories to deliver the day's news," Shafer writes. "How much of this was to inform the reader and how much just to make pages fit is anybody's guess."

Yet, as Shafer correctly observes, it's no guess that in these days of buyouts, layoffs and other budgetary restrictions on newspapers, editors and publishers are going to have to do some serious thinking about how they allocate resources in the Internet era. It is not just The Post and The Times that have witnessed explosive growth in the size of news staffs over the past 35 years. Virtually all of the major dailies and even many middle-sized papers have added staff and more sections. You can't judge writing contests such as the one sponsored by the American Association of Sunday and Feature Editors and not come away with the conclusion that journalism has been well-served by offering more choices to attract and keep readers.

Which to my mind makes today's cutbacks so maddening. The readers are the first to suffer, and some of them are plenty sore about it. We received vivid examples of readers' anger after a recent column by Kathleen Parker on disappearing book sections. These readers complained about more than book reviews, they were upset over losing features in other parts of the paper as well. Some bore grudges dating back years.

Editors and publishers alienate their readers at their own peril. Rather than identifying strong points and committing themselves to maintaining institutional memory, they seem to be taking a let-the-chips-fall-where-they-may approach, cutting pages and thinning staffs first by early retirement offers and then pink slips. The result is often weakened or abandoned coverage, including of those institutions that only the press can hold truly accountable.

In some cases, a newspaper's business is distorted by directives from headquarters. One retired editor of a large daily told us a few months ago that the papers in his group had been flourishing, but headquarters kept asking for more and more profit until the paper was so weakened that readers began disappearing; budgets at this group are now being mercilessly cut. An editor of a small newspaper said recently he was ordered by headquarters to cut a specific number of dollars, with no regard to local needs. He told us he was dropping one of his most popular columnists because he was required to slash spending in that particular category; he had no choice.

Readers notice, and it's one of the reasons they're turning elsewhere.

Shafer asks: "How many journalists can a newspaper jettison before its hair falls out and its ribs start showing?"

I'd say a lot of ribs already are showing. When newspapers drop features and then tell readers to look elsewhere (I kid you not, it's been done), then you've not only thrown out the bath water. There's a baby missing too.

Cost-reduction campaigns might make the bottom line look attractive to investors, but ultimately, the most important investor in newspapers is the reader who plunks down some change for a copy or orders a full subscription. Content has to be a consideration.

The papers of the early '70s had their own battles to fight, mainly competition from television but also strike-prone unions, changes in printing and graphic technologies, and the beginning of suburban sprawl that taxed circulation departments.

But I think as Shafer points out, newspapers then were also committed primarily to delivering the news -- and they played to the strengths that would allow them to do so. For today's editors, throwing up your hands shouldn't be an option.

James Hill is managing editor of The Washington Post Writers Group.