Wisconsin Rapids Daily Tribune Editor Carl Otto explained to me many, many years ago what a news story actually was. And in no uncertain terms. In his late fifties or early sixties, he was tall, built well, and wore wire rim glasses. Wearing daily a conservatively colored suit with white dress shirt with French cuff links and an accompanying tie, he came to work with shined shoes and carefully combed, pure white hair. Having a separate office in which he could view all reporters at their desks and listen to their conversations, he'd often join in. And when he did, everyone in the newsroom heard his every word. Carl was so assured of everything he said he didn't mind owning a booming voice and using it with regularity. I don't ever recall his shutting his office door unless the paper's publisher and owner paid him a visit. At those times, the door closed and Carl and Bill would chat amiably.
One morning, the managing editor approved the city police stories I had written, gathered that morning from the preceding day and night's police written reports at city hall. One story concerned a head-on car accident in which both drivers were hospitalized with life threatening injuries. After reading the four or five paragraphs, the managing editor handed the single sheet back to me and said, "Give this to Carl."
I strode into the editor's office and placed the page on top of Carl's desk, turned around, and headed for my desk, the one furthest away from Carl's office. As I sat, I watched him lift the page and grab his trusty, yellow No. 1 pencil which he used for editing purposes. He would soon recommend me for a Pulitzer. Seconds later, his head popped up as he roared, "Smullen, did the police report state, or the cop, himself, tell you one of the drivers in this head on was at fault?"
"No, sir," I answered. "I assumed he was at fault because according to the report, his vehicle was in the other driver's lane.”
"Then, what's written here is not fact but your opinion, correct?"
"Technically yes, but I think it was as plain as—"
"No buts," he exploded. "You must have me confused with someone who gives a hoot what you think." With that, Carl shook the page so hard it ripped in two separate pieces. "Come back here, take this, and rewrite it with facts only, no conjectures on your part."
I was going to ask him to just edit out that sentence, but I thought better of my saying another word. Although I later discovered fellow reporters with more experience learned the same lesson in their probationary periods, I didn't appreciate their grins as I made my way back to Carl's office.
Standing, the now red-faced editor continued his rant while each hand shook a partial sheet of paper. "We pay you to write news, Smullen. News stories need attribution and must be accompanied with two words, 'according to,' and it won't be according to you, got it?"
"Got it," I said, thinking he was finished. I was wrong.
"As editor, I'm the only one in this newsroom who gets paid to write opinions." He handed the partial sheets back to me. The red started leaving his face.
"Yes, sir."
As I returned to my desk, I quickly sat before my typewriter and hurriedly rolled into its platen a clean sheet of paper. That's when the managing editor, occupying the desk in front of mine, turned on his revolving desk chair, faced me, and softly said, "Sorry, I missed that, but you have to know Carl's got the best B.S. detector in town. From now on, use attribution."
"I'll do that," I said.
Nowadays, when I read or view any news story that generalizes, such as news that affirms women are good; men are bad; or Black inner-city residents are decent while white police are evil; or environmentalists are honest but corporate executives are liars, I ask aloud, "According to whom and what authority does she or he possess?"
One morning, the managing editor approved the city police stories I had written, gathered that morning from the preceding day and night's police written reports at city hall. One story concerned a head-on car accident in which both drivers were hospitalized with life threatening injuries. After reading the four or five paragraphs, the managing editor handed the single sheet back to me and said, "Give this to Carl."
I strode into the editor's office and placed the page on top of Carl's desk, turned around, and headed for my desk, the one furthest away from Carl's office. As I sat, I watched him lift the page and grab his trusty, yellow No. 1 pencil which he used for editing purposes. He would soon recommend me for a Pulitzer. Seconds later, his head popped up as he roared, "Smullen, did the police report state, or the cop, himself, tell you one of the drivers in this head on was at fault?"
"No, sir," I answered. "I assumed he was at fault because according to the report, his vehicle was in the other driver's lane.”
"Then, what's written here is not fact but your opinion, correct?"
"Technically yes, but I think it was as plain as—"
"No buts," he exploded. "You must have me confused with someone who gives a hoot what you think." With that, Carl shook the page so hard it ripped in two separate pieces. "Come back here, take this, and rewrite it with facts only, no conjectures on your part."
I was going to ask him to just edit out that sentence, but I thought better of my saying another word. Although I later discovered fellow reporters with more experience learned the same lesson in their probationary periods, I didn't appreciate their grins as I made my way back to Carl's office.
Standing, the now red-faced editor continued his rant while each hand shook a partial sheet of paper. "We pay you to write news, Smullen. News stories need attribution and must be accompanied with two words, 'according to,' and it won't be according to you, got it?"
"Got it," I said, thinking he was finished. I was wrong.
"As editor, I'm the only one in this newsroom who gets paid to write opinions." He handed the partial sheets back to me. The red started leaving his face.
"Yes, sir."
As I returned to my desk, I quickly sat before my typewriter and hurriedly rolled into its platen a clean sheet of paper. That's when the managing editor, occupying the desk in front of mine, turned on his revolving desk chair, faced me, and softly said, "Sorry, I missed that, but you have to know Carl's got the best B.S. detector in town. From now on, use attribution."
"I'll do that," I said.
Nowadays, when I read or view any news story that generalizes, such as news that affirms women are good; men are bad; or Black inner-city residents are decent while white police are evil; or environmentalists are honest but corporate executives are liars, I ask aloud, "According to whom and what authority does she or he possess?"
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