Of late there has been much chat here about the inequities and inadequacies of MSM. I tend to think the critiques are written largely by unhappy consumers of media, and not by those of us who sometimes work in that world. And I am reminded of the wisdom [sic] of a sports talk radio host, who, exasperated, told a listener that if he didn't like the way the national TV crew covered the local team, he should turn off the sound and listen to the homers on the radio, who are compensated by the local team.
That's not my point. My point is simply to draw attention to a fine series of articles unfolding in the Everett Herald, which are to be found here: http://www.heraldnet.com/...
Though I think no further explanation necessary, if you'll jump across our metaphorical fold, I'll provide a little context.
Scott North, the author of this remarkable series, is an old friend, with whom I correspond irregularly, at best. We went through the University of Washington together, both of us working full-time and taking writing and journalism classes in the morning. Both of us wrote for a year or so at the UW Daily, and when it was time to turn over my editorial job at a little ski magazine, I was happy to give it to Scott. (At least he skied.)
I went to Scott's wedding, and he took a job at another paper, and had a daughter, and then moved home to Everett, where he has worked principally as a crime reporter for twenty-some years. I did other things, none of them really journalism, most of them having something to do with the media, and ended up living several thousand miles removed from Scott. We keep in touch through my proper blog (which I'll not pimp here), and through occasional notes.
How shall I say this? Scott is a modest man. A quiet man. Thoughtful. So when he sent me a link to something he'd written -- something he's never done, best I can recall, not ever -- I paid attention.
When last I knew, the Everett Herald was a Washington Post property, and maybe it still is. For those not familiar with the Northwest, Everett is an old mill town just north of Seattle, a working class enclave, and possibly (I've not been there in many years) one of the last vestiges of the old Northwest, the progressive, labor union-ridden Northwest. The place I grew up, not the city Microsoft built.
Faced with competition from TV and the world wide tower of babel, daily newspapers have dumbed themselves down, have panicked, have ceded the strength of their medium: deep reporting, careful work. Tireless work. This kind of work.
This is not a story television can tell. It is not a story citizen bloggers can tell. It is the reason that newspapers remain important cornerstones of our democratic process.
And I am honored to call Scott a friend. And shamed that I have, perhaps, taken a path of lesser worth and least resistance. That my own modest gifts have been, so far, too readily frittered.