The story least taken

Stories have a lot in common with bad pennies. They always turn up and often in the places you least expect them. 

It's something I've known for a while, but never put any proper thought into. Covering the Fourth of July celebration in Salem I found out that most of the proceeds were going to the town's Special Olympics team. A better example would come from a recent trip I took down to the Salem Senior Center.

I originally wanted to do a story on computer lab the center had for seniors - five motley looking machines that were outdated by at least five years or so. The Council on Aging had donated three new computers to replace the center's existing administrative computers. In return those would replace some of the older models in the lab. 

On a nice Wednesday morning I made my way over to the senior center and wandered up to the second floor to take a look at the lab and meet some of the kindly senior citizens checking their e-mail and doing their banking online. 

What I found was an empty computer lab. And a room full of guys staring at me. 

"Are you from the newspaper?" one of them asked. "They said someone from the newspaper was going to come today."

When I nodded they lit up. 

What ensued was an hour long conversation with constant interrupts, interjections, and rude jokes about male anatomy. These guys got together three times a week to shoot the shit and then some pool. Retirees for the most part, they enjoyed spending their time with each other rather than wasting away alone at home.

"Look at'im write," said another as I scrawled half remembered quotes onto a notepad. "He's gonna have a novel."

Afterwards they clapped me on the back, telling me what a great paper the Union Leader was (much better than that rag the Eagle-Tribune) and thanked me for stopping by. When I left they were arguing over whose turn it was to shoot. 

"We talk for 15 minutes and then no one can remember whose supposed to shoot, who's high and who's low," said a third. "We spend most of our time arguing about it."

It wasn't the story I was looking for, but it was a good story. 

Lost in translation

I stumbled across this very interesting analysis of a heart-wrenching international story spun out of proportion across the global media all throughout this week. It raises some pretty interesting ethical questions that a journalist at any level would be fain to find clear-cut questions to. 

I think the first, and probably the foremost, would have to be trust. How much trust can you place in the information given to you by a source? And since every story, no matter how big or how small is derived from various sources of even more varying credibility, how much can a reporter, a newspaper, or a media outlet put into corroborating information? 

It's a question I can't answer. 

Though I do believe the New York Times did the best it could with what it had. While the old standard of American journalism may have become tarnished in recent years, this isn't a case of sensationalization or a false report (*cough* Jason Blair *cough*), but a story that editors evaluated fully.

The Times did the right thing by saying "hey, we didn't get this completely wrong, but we didn't get it all right either. And for that we apologize."

In a situation where editors could have easily made a number of excuses for the problems with the mother's account of her tribulations, approaching deadlines, corroborating evidence, the credibility of the photojournalist, etc., they took the higher road. In a time where every mistake, every missed fact, every poorly chosen adjective chips away a little bit more at the public trust of newspapers, editors, reporters and photographers alike, the Times may have made a step in the right direction. 

It's always sunny in Windham

I got to be the bad guy the other day when I arrived at the scene of two homes damaged during last weekend's severe thunderstorms. Nobody likes talking to a reporter, I have found, and especially not when you have a tree lodged through the second story of your house. 

The best way to get someone who has no interest in talking to you, who is in fact insulted that you're stepping on their property to ask them what sound like inane questions about their home, their life or their loved ones is to empathize with them. Doesn't always work, but if you get lucky they'll bring down the barriers and treat you as if you weren't a member of the paparazzi. 

This time I got lucky. "I'm sorry for your loss," I told the two women I found sitting in lawn chairs and staring at the mess that once served as a focal point in their lives. 

"I can understand what you're going through," I say, after initially being brushed off. "My family cabin up in the Lakes Region was destroyed last year. Couple of trees took most of the porch and a portion of the house out. Same situation as this."

"Thank you," says one and the other nods slowly. 

We begin talking about the homes and the amount of damage and I don't come off as much as a walking turd with neither the sense nor the etiquette to let them mourn in peace. Often times, if you show a little respect and good manners, and display a certain amount of patience by not giving into the pressures placed on you by the editors waiting on the story, you can get the full story. 

The best example I can think of off the top of my head would be the death, allegedly by suicide, of a UMass student last year. Under the pressure of trying to get the news out, both myself and Eric Athas posted immediate stories on our respective online media outlets. Since the family wasn't talking and friends were being asked not to talk to members of the press both of us borrowed - in varying degrees - information from her facebook page. 

Both members of her family and her friends criticized our decision to do so. 

Which I don't question. Journalism is a double-edged sword that way. You do what you have to do to get the story out and ask questions later. 

Still, Will McGuinness found that middle road and resisting pressure from me to get a story on her life, alleged suicide, and mourning friends out as soon as possible he contacted the family and stood back, waiting for them to decide the appropriate time to speak out. 

What he got was a great story and a personal connection to the family that exceeded anything the other newspapers - competing to get her tragic, paper-selling story out - had. 

Sometimes a little patience, and a little deference, can go a long way.