If there is going to be not only a trend, but a distinct business decision to “open up” newspapers to community participation via the Internet, then I think the community participators need at least a flash course in Journalism 101.
I say this as a man who has been in the journalism profession since 1969, both as a newspaperman and a college instructor. When you do this work long enough, you realize that you may be original, and get great stories, and inform and influence the citizenry, but what you really are, at the end of the day, is a defender of principles.
These are the principles that I want known to citizens in Lawrence, Kansas, and Greensboro, N.C., two places where newspapers are introducing what they call “participatory journalism,” or “citizen journalism,” and also here in San Diego, at the online Voice of San Diego, whose very name mandates such participation.
It scares me to read, in The New York Times, that such newspapers mean to become “a virtual town square, where citizens have a say in the news and where every reader is a reporter,” without some assurance that those readers are least are familiar with journalism principles that are older than the Constitution and are the bedrock for the First Amendment.
The Founding Fathers knew that. Concerning the press, the First Amendment says: “Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of the press.” Since “abridge” means reduce or diminish, it means the authors understood that freedom of the press already existed in this country and was not created, but simply protected, by the First Amendment.
This nation’s principles don’t come any more basic than that, and I, for one, don’t hold with hordes of yahoos tromping all over this hallowed space without some understanding of that.
Journalists go to school to learn their trade, and the first thing they learn are the tools, rules and definitions which we use to defend journalism principles. Most people know about the famous Five W’s: Who, What, When, Where, Why.
The actual tools and realities used every day in this business are not known, however, to the general public, because they aren’t taught anywhere but journalism school. These are the tools that I insist on exposing to the coming generation of “hands-on readers,” as The Times calls them, but there is another even more compelling reason that they become generally known. These same tools are at the heart of every sitcom, every commercial, every movie, every talk show, every media product offered in a world that has become flooded with media products.
People blame the media for the flood, and for such dubious results of this flood such as reality television, the Bush Administration’s scripted town halls, and Paris Hilton, without the slightest idea of what is going on.
Media producers know exactly what is going on and use journalism’s basic tools in ways that become more sophisticated all the time. Consumers need to know those tools, too, and understand how they work, because if they do, then the media will know that the consumers know what is going on, and that will start to change the media-consumer relationship.
There is a blinding irony at work here. The media did, in fact, create a couple of the tools it uses. The rest were created by people. Almost all of the tools, definitions and rules of journalism were created by people thousands of years before the media came into existence. The media only took those ancient tools and turned them into a business.
In the Media Toolbox, you will find 10 news, or event, values. They are Conflict, Progress, Disaster, Consequence, Prominence, Proximity, Timeliness, Human Interest, Novelty, and Sex & Sensationalism.
There are three media realities in the Toolbox: Balance, Professionalism and Competition. There are also three public realities: Information, Demographics and Curiosity.
And there are two laws of media: 1) The media is a business; 2) The media is an exercise in the power of small numbers.
More about this after Thanksgiving. Speaking of which, have a happy one!
November 21, 2007
Joe Gandelman and TMV
Joe Gandelman and I were colleagues at the old San Diego Union, before it was merged with the old, and moribund, Evening Tribune, in the early 1990s.
We both left the paper, went our own ways, and I always remembered Joe for his energy. First and foremost, Joe Gandelman was energetic. I had no idea how energetic, though, until years later, when I discovered his blog, "The Moderate Voice." I have a blog, yes, but I am not a classic blogger. I post essays, and I post them when I feel like it. A classic blogger posts in stream-of-consciousness rhythm, pouring out thoughts and observations in such volume that I don't know when they eat or sleep.
Joe was doing this, when I found him again a couple of years ago. At that time, I also discovered that he was a ventriloquist. He does shows, mostly for kids, all over the country. During and after our October fires in San Diego, he was going to evacuation sites, doing his show to distract kids, and others, from their fears.
Joe is now editor-in-chief of "The Moderate Voice," or, TMV. If you have visited the blogosphere, you know that it is highly politicized and opinionated, or at least it can be. There is endless shouting in the blogosphere, from the left and from the right, much of it from people who represent a majority of one. These are the MOOs. A blogger can make a gentle observation, such as, "Water is wet," and count on streams of abuse from MOOs.
Joe's niche is moderation, politically and vocally. A centrist voice, he calls it. I have contributed a couple of pieces to TMV in the past year, and Joe has occasionally linked to my blog. This week, we took another step. One of the constant blogosphere themes is the media. In a long career as a journalist and educator, the media – what it is, and how it works, and how the general public doesn't know what it is, or how it works – has become a major personal theme.
As he regularly does for people with serious content to contribute, Joe offered to make me a "co-blogger" at TMV. I accepted, and contributed my first co-blog this week, four paragraphs at TMV, and an invitation to read the rest here, at my own blog. Practically all of my TMV co-blogs will concern media, which of course will be posted in their entirety here (see above), while also allowing me to wax on non-TMV issues which are important to me, such as turkey surgery (see below).
We both left the paper, went our own ways, and I always remembered Joe for his energy. First and foremost, Joe Gandelman was energetic. I had no idea how energetic, though, until years later, when I discovered his blog, "The Moderate Voice." I have a blog, yes, but I am not a classic blogger. I post essays, and I post them when I feel like it. A classic blogger posts in stream-of-consciousness rhythm, pouring out thoughts and observations in such volume that I don't know when they eat or sleep.
Joe was doing this, when I found him again a couple of years ago. At that time, I also discovered that he was a ventriloquist. He does shows, mostly for kids, all over the country. During and after our October fires in San Diego, he was going to evacuation sites, doing his show to distract kids, and others, from their fears.
Joe is now editor-in-chief of "The Moderate Voice," or, TMV. If you have visited the blogosphere, you know that it is highly politicized and opinionated, or at least it can be. There is endless shouting in the blogosphere, from the left and from the right, much of it from people who represent a majority of one. These are the MOOs. A blogger can make a gentle observation, such as, "Water is wet," and count on streams of abuse from MOOs.
Joe's niche is moderation, politically and vocally. A centrist voice, he calls it. I have contributed a couple of pieces to TMV in the past year, and Joe has occasionally linked to my blog. This week, we took another step. One of the constant blogosphere themes is the media. In a long career as a journalist and educator, the media – what it is, and how it works, and how the general public doesn't know what it is, or how it works – has become a major personal theme.
As he regularly does for people with serious content to contribute, Joe offered to make me a "co-blogger" at TMV. I accepted, and contributed my first co-blog this week, four paragraphs at TMV, and an invitation to read the rest here, at my own blog. Practically all of my TMV co-blogs will concern media, which of course will be posted in their entirety here (see above), while also allowing me to wax on non-TMV issues which are important to me, such as turkey surgery (see below).
Best Turkey: Shot, and Smoked
For the 26th straight Thanksgiving Day, the findings of the Kettner Blvd. College of Turkey Surgeons and Airport Relocation Committee remain unchanged.
The surest way to have a moist, flavorful turkey for Thanksgiving is to shoot it and smoke it.
If you are new to the debate, the KBCTSARC was created to research answers to two dilemmas of our time:
Is there a way to make turkey moist?
Where should San Diego locate its new airport?
The first issue is universal, or at least as widespread as those regions on the planet where turkey is cooked and served.
The second issue is local. I was born in Texas, where you can put an airport almost anywhere, but since 1972 I have lived in San Diego, California. Sometime in the 1930s, San Diegans started talking about the need to relocate their airport from Lindbergh Field to some better location.
Three-quarters of a century later, that question is still in the hands of a committee (not the KBCTSARC) which meets regularly to discuss potential locations as disparate as the Imperial Desert (a two-hour drive) and the Pacific Ocean (airport built on piers or pontoons).
The KBCTSARC, meanwhile, goes about its business casually, a pace consistent with our motto: “Not likely to happen in our lifetimes.” Our current airport relocation advice is: leave it where it is.
Regarding the turkey, a fresh bird (not frozen, or previously frozen) is best, about 18 pounds. You will need a large syringe, used originally by large-animal veterinarians but now a popular item in kitchenware stores and catalogues. And you will need a Weber kettle cooker, the 22-inch size, and a bag of charcoal briquets laced with mesquite. With the syringe, inject into the bird’s breasts and thighs a mixture of melted butter, chicken stock, and a couple tablespoons of sherry. In this mixture, saturate a clean dishcloth and place it over the bird.
Build small, 20-briquet fires on either side of the fire grate. Close the kettle and lid vents halfway. Place the bird, unstuffed, in the center of the grille, to create indirect-heat cooking. Moisten the cloth every 45 minutes and tend the fires, adding a few briquets each time. Remove the cloth the last hour of cooking and inject the bird again. Cooking time should be about four hours. When a thigh wiggles freely, he is done. When he is finished, he will come out with a deep mahogany glaze.
But he won’t taste “barbecued.” He will have a smoky essence, but he will be all turkey. Turkey is like hamburger; it remains turkey no matter what you do to it. Thus the usual accompaniments are correct. Roast a big pan of dressing, with oysters and walnuts in it. Make a mess of giblet gravy, and sprinkle a quarter-cup of leftover coffee on the giblets as they are sautéing. Make a big pan of oven-roasted (350 degrees) vegetables: new potatoes, onions, carrots, red and green bell peppers, broccoli stalks, all chunked and tossed with a little olive oil, salt and pepper. When these are starting to get tender, add the broccoli florets and plenty of crimini mushrooms and let it go another 15 minutes.
Have fresh white bread and a full jar of mayonnaise ready for the turkey sandwiches on Friday. Always the best part of Thanksgiving dinner.
The surest way to have a moist, flavorful turkey for Thanksgiving is to shoot it and smoke it.
If you are new to the debate, the KBCTSARC was created to research answers to two dilemmas of our time:
Is there a way to make turkey moist?
Where should San Diego locate its new airport?
The first issue is universal, or at least as widespread as those regions on the planet where turkey is cooked and served.
The second issue is local. I was born in Texas, where you can put an airport almost anywhere, but since 1972 I have lived in San Diego, California. Sometime in the 1930s, San Diegans started talking about the need to relocate their airport from Lindbergh Field to some better location.
Three-quarters of a century later, that question is still in the hands of a committee (not the KBCTSARC) which meets regularly to discuss potential locations as disparate as the Imperial Desert (a two-hour drive) and the Pacific Ocean (airport built on piers or pontoons).
The KBCTSARC, meanwhile, goes about its business casually, a pace consistent with our motto: “Not likely to happen in our lifetimes.” Our current airport relocation advice is: leave it where it is.
Regarding the turkey, a fresh bird (not frozen, or previously frozen) is best, about 18 pounds. You will need a large syringe, used originally by large-animal veterinarians but now a popular item in kitchenware stores and catalogues. And you will need a Weber kettle cooker, the 22-inch size, and a bag of charcoal briquets laced with mesquite. With the syringe, inject into the bird’s breasts and thighs a mixture of melted butter, chicken stock, and a couple tablespoons of sherry. In this mixture, saturate a clean dishcloth and place it over the bird.
Build small, 20-briquet fires on either side of the fire grate. Close the kettle and lid vents halfway. Place the bird, unstuffed, in the center of the grille, to create indirect-heat cooking. Moisten the cloth every 45 minutes and tend the fires, adding a few briquets each time. Remove the cloth the last hour of cooking and inject the bird again. Cooking time should be about four hours. When a thigh wiggles freely, he is done. When he is finished, he will come out with a deep mahogany glaze.
But he won’t taste “barbecued.” He will have a smoky essence, but he will be all turkey. Turkey is like hamburger; it remains turkey no matter what you do to it. Thus the usual accompaniments are correct. Roast a big pan of dressing, with oysters and walnuts in it. Make a mess of giblet gravy, and sprinkle a quarter-cup of leftover coffee on the giblets as they are sautéing. Make a big pan of oven-roasted (350 degrees) vegetables: new potatoes, onions, carrots, red and green bell peppers, broccoli stalks, all chunked and tossed with a little olive oil, salt and pepper. When these are starting to get tender, add the broccoli florets and plenty of crimini mushrooms and let it go another 15 minutes.
Have fresh white bread and a full jar of mayonnaise ready for the turkey sandwiches on Friday. Always the best part of Thanksgiving dinner.
November 20, 2007
Reading Media
It is time for Americans to learn how to read media.
“Reading Media” certainly means reading newspapers, magazines and books – and now Websites – and watching television and movies, and listening to radio.
But “Reading Media” also means understanding a second level of whatever you are looking at or listening to that is always there. At that level are the reasons that someone decided to write the story, or the sitcom, or the movie, or the book, or the commercial.
Those reasons are all about you. Media professionals can “read” you like a book. They know what pushes your buttons, what pulls your triggers. They go to journalism and media schools to learn how to read you, using a system of tools and definitions that I call a Toolbox. Then they become professionals in one of the three media production industries: information, entertainment, and persuasion.
Unfortunately, the Toolbox isn’t part of regular education in the United States. If it was, the general public would understand why news is news. People would understand the difference between news and entertainment (a difference that many media pros are working very hard to blur these days). And they would understand the reactions they have to things they see in media, and that understanding is very important. In everything from beer commercials to political programming, the media uses the Toolbox to manipulate people, to create persuasion that leads to choices.
People know they are feeling something when they see this content: happiness, anger, satisfaction, disgust, agreement, disagreement, connection, alienation. But they may not understand the feeling, where it comes from. Seinfeld mugs an old lady just to get a loaf of rye bread, and people laugh and laugh.
Why do people laugh at a mugging? The answer is in the Toolbox. When people use the Toolbox to read media, they become more informed consumers, whether the product is information, entertainment or persuasion. Informed consumers have the best chance to make choices they will feel good about. When the media starts to realize that the consumers know what is going on, it will move the media-public relationship toward a more honest balance. To change the media, change the audience.
“Reading Media” certainly means reading newspapers, magazines and books – and now Websites – and watching television and movies, and listening to radio.
But “Reading Media” also means understanding a second level of whatever you are looking at or listening to that is always there. At that level are the reasons that someone decided to write the story, or the sitcom, or the movie, or the book, or the commercial.
Those reasons are all about you. Media professionals can “read” you like a book. They know what pushes your buttons, what pulls your triggers. They go to journalism and media schools to learn how to read you, using a system of tools and definitions that I call a Toolbox. Then they become professionals in one of the three media production industries: information, entertainment, and persuasion.
Unfortunately, the Toolbox isn’t part of regular education in the United States. If it was, the general public would understand why news is news. People would understand the difference between news and entertainment (a difference that many media pros are working very hard to blur these days). And they would understand the reactions they have to things they see in media, and that understanding is very important. In everything from beer commercials to political programming, the media uses the Toolbox to manipulate people, to create persuasion that leads to choices.
People know they are feeling something when they see this content: happiness, anger, satisfaction, disgust, agreement, disagreement, connection, alienation. But they may not understand the feeling, where it comes from. Seinfeld mugs an old lady just to get a loaf of rye bread, and people laugh and laugh.
Why do people laugh at a mugging? The answer is in the Toolbox. When people use the Toolbox to read media, they become more informed consumers, whether the product is information, entertainment or persuasion. Informed consumers have the best chance to make choices they will feel good about. When the media starts to realize that the consumers know what is going on, it will move the media-public relationship toward a more honest balance. To change the media, change the audience.
November 12, 2007
Writers 7, Reality 0
Did you happen to watch the Chargers-Colts game on national television Sunday night?
The game was entirely scripted by the Writers' Guild. The writers have been out on strike for a week now. For a group of people accustomed to coming up with funny sketches on deadline, a week of idleness was maddening, cruel and unusual. So the NFL and NBC came up with this way to give the writers some relief. It was a win-win for the league and the network, making the best of the kinds of scheduling gaffes that regularly occur when prime-time matchups are scheduled months in advance on old expectations.
They provided the writers a simple premise: "The Colts can field only 17 players on offense. The Chargers couldn't beat the Montessori junior varsity. Give us a 60-minute script."
The result was impressive, a three-hour show that only seasoned television writers could dream up. It had a soap-opera pace, the barest relationship to the reality of football as it is played by professionals, heroes and tragic figures popping up unexpectedly, turning tides, Baskerville atmosphere, slow dramatic development with a late shock, and, of course, no ending. Nobody won. I have never seen a football game that engendered such despair in the winning fans.
Of course that was the genius of the script. The writers had Mr. Clutch, Adam Vinatieri, miss a 29-yard field goal at the end. If he makes it, everyone reacts normally. Indy fans sigh, Chargers fans scream, and a terrific script is wasted.
So the script has Vinatieri missing, and haunting conflict settles over all. In Indianapolis, where last year's Super Bowl trophy sits on a shelf, a fan writes to say he has hauled all Colts materials out of his house and is waiting for the trashman to pick it up. In San Diego, fans say, we won, so why do I feel so bad? "Chargers won," writes a fan, "but, how embarrassing!!!!"
You just don't find conflict like that in real life. My hat is off to the writers. I wonder how they got compensated? Official Tom Brady jerseys maybe. They can sell them on eBay to buy groceries until the strike is over. I, for one, hope it is over soon. I never want to sit through another football game like that.
The game was entirely scripted by the Writers' Guild. The writers have been out on strike for a week now. For a group of people accustomed to coming up with funny sketches on deadline, a week of idleness was maddening, cruel and unusual. So the NFL and NBC came up with this way to give the writers some relief. It was a win-win for the league and the network, making the best of the kinds of scheduling gaffes that regularly occur when prime-time matchups are scheduled months in advance on old expectations.
They provided the writers a simple premise: "The Colts can field only 17 players on offense. The Chargers couldn't beat the Montessori junior varsity. Give us a 60-minute script."
The result was impressive, a three-hour show that only seasoned television writers could dream up. It had a soap-opera pace, the barest relationship to the reality of football as it is played by professionals, heroes and tragic figures popping up unexpectedly, turning tides, Baskerville atmosphere, slow dramatic development with a late shock, and, of course, no ending. Nobody won. I have never seen a football game that engendered such despair in the winning fans.
Of course that was the genius of the script. The writers had Mr. Clutch, Adam Vinatieri, miss a 29-yard field goal at the end. If he makes it, everyone reacts normally. Indy fans sigh, Chargers fans scream, and a terrific script is wasted.
So the script has Vinatieri missing, and haunting conflict settles over all. In Indianapolis, where last year's Super Bowl trophy sits on a shelf, a fan writes to say he has hauled all Colts materials out of his house and is waiting for the trashman to pick it up. In San Diego, fans say, we won, so why do I feel so bad? "Chargers won," writes a fan, "but, how embarrassing!!!!"
You just don't find conflict like that in real life. My hat is off to the writers. I wonder how they got compensated? Official Tom Brady jerseys maybe. They can sell them on eBay to buy groceries until the strike is over. I, for one, hope it is over soon. I never want to sit through another football game like that.
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