Hinson was an earlier brand of city editor, back in the sepia-tinted ‘60s, when an editor still might yell “stop the presses,” a term I actually heard once when the police were moving in on a big-time killer, and the bad guy would be on his way to the morgue in a matter of moments.
Thinking back, there really isn’t that much difference between the Sentinel newsroom then and the Kyiv Post today. Substitute computers for manual typewriters and a non-smoking policy for a veil of smoke hanging in the air and the differences are marginal. A newsroom is a newsroom.
The myths that surround the craft remain pretty much the same, as well. People still comment that “reporters only care about selling newspapers,” or blame reporters for asking “the wrong questions” when an interview goes badly.
I vividly remember Danny taking calls from people wanting the newspaper to cover their pet event. After quickly losing interest in the conversation, he shouted: “You need to talk to the city editor. He’s not in.” Hinson, the city editor, would then slam the phone down – and smile impishly. It was a daily occurrence.
Editors do tend to be more polite these days. Kyiv Post chief editor Brian Bonner has many of the qualities of editors from a bygone era, but he’s rather gracious and patient with people peddling minor happenings as hot news. Sometimes, anyway.
Anchoring the other three spots on this city desk island back then were Buck Liddel (we used Frank in the byline for fear of the obvious typo), Elvis Lane, a refugee from PR; and the 18-year-old kid called Willard who wrote obits, took dictation from line bureaus and, occasionally, covered a minor story.
Back then – before Disney World put Orlando on the map – only white people died in the main edition of the Sentinel. The “pink” edition – so named for the color of the newsprint – was for African-Americans. Likewise, murder and mayhem in white Orlando was news; but in black neighborhoods it was ho-hum.
In terms of the craft, I was taught more in one year of working nights and weekends for the Sentinel then I did during my entire university experience. Yet the business has changed drastically: Newspapers are pedaling backwards, most shrinking in size, some going belly-up like whales on a beach.
Some things never change, though: They are the truisms that give journalists a certain cache, which makes them not just different – definitely not better – but, more interesting in that a good reporter studies and knows a little about a lot – everything from dry government reports to the backs of cereal boxes.
It’s called curiosity. If a reporter doesn’t have it, he or she is not really a reporter.
Gruff Danny Hinson was from a different era. He would be an anachronism today. He went on to that city desk in the sky long ago, but certain myths about the news business remain fixed in the universal mind. They have become clichés seen on television.
For example, “all reporters want to do is sell newspapers.” I’ve never met a journalist yet who made a connection between the number of newspapers sold and his or her ability to be paid. In pursuing an article, most think simply about getting a good story, preferably on the front page above the fold.
They also want to collect a portfolio of “bell-ringer” stories that will move them, career-wise, from the Podunk Post to the Washington Post, or to some other similarly prestigious publication.
Another oft-heard complaint is that a reporter didn’t ask the right questions. The burden of delivering a news story is not on the reporter, but on the person being interviewed. There is a saying in the media training business: “There are no bad questions – just bad answers.”
I am reminded of former U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger. He showed up for a news conference, and dozens of reporters were prepared to pepper him with questions as he stood in the glare of the lights of the TV network cameras.
Kissinger looked up from the podium and said: “I sure hope you people have questions for all my answers.”
Kyiv Post CEO Michael Willard can be reached at [email protected].
