Since you are reading this column, chances are that you love newspapers. If so, you and I have something important in common.
From my earliest days I have been fascinated by publications that deliver the news of the world, whether of my immediate environs or of far-flung places. Perhaps it was growing up in a family in which my father was a reporter and then an editor.
On occasion, he would take me to visit his office at the Boston Post and we would walk through the plant where I gaped with awe as the giant presses rolled out thousands of printed papers.
Though nowadays, like my so many of my juniors , I frequently consult the online versions of newspapers, that never satisfies me. Holding the actual newsprint in my hands and turning the pages gives me a tactile experience that I continue to relish. To me, the printed page is a work of art, at its best the product of imagination and inventiveness, and I enjoy handling it.
What prompts these reflections is a recent talk by Daniel Okrent, the so-called Public Editor of the New York Times. His job, sometimes described as the hardest in journalism, is what other newspapers call the ombudsman. He has been hired to represent the readers and to write criticism of the paper when he thinks it is called for.
The New York Times has 1200 employees in its newsroom. Though it is not America’s largest paper by circulation, it sells more than a million copies each day, though nowadays more people read it on line than on paper.
The Times prints an astounding total of a million words each week. (By contrast, Time Magazine prints only fifty thousand.)
These figures suggest the scale on which this famous newspaper operates. It is read all over the world and is renowned for being the paper of record.
Another indication of the Time’s reach is suggested by the experience of Tom Friedman, one of its leading columnists. After he began to list his email address with his column, he received 8,000 messages in three days, after which, in a gesture of self-preservation, he stopped divulging his electronic address.
Now, however, he answers every piece of snail mail he receives, honoring the trouble taken by anyone who writes a message on a piece of paper and bothers to address an envelope.
Daniel Okrent himself receives 450 pieces of mail a day, of which about a hundred require an answer. The biggest complaint he gets about the Times is “Your writing is for rich people.” People accuse the paper of catering to one social class and giving short shrift to others.
Times writers get a lot of abuse from readers. Some of the public send what Okrent calls “vile stuff” to the newspaper, especially to the women writers. The latent violence in American society finds expression in the ranting of readers who indulge in newsprint rage.
It’s also part of Okrent’s job to identify errors, of which there are inevitably a considerable number each day. The philosophy he expresses−“admitting error is a way of enhancing credibility”−motivates this fact-finding activity.
The most difficult journalistic issue that the Public Editor deals with is sourcing. Among other responsibilities, journalists must make sure that the information they report is accurate. When quoting people, they must take pains to do so correctly and see to it that the context is also established properly.
The Times continues to be “wounded” by the Jayson Blair event of last year. On that occasion, a young reporter faked stories, falsely claiming that they were eyewitness reports. It was the main factor that led the executive editor at the Times to resign, and this scandal is still used to discredit the paper.
The Public Editor did not mention one of the features that I most value– crossword puzzles. Doing the Sunday crossword, and the every-other-week double acrostic, has long been a sacred ritual in my household. Fortunately for me, my wife and I do not compete because she is much sharper than I and finishes the puzzles faster.
But the Times, fascinating as it is, could never satisfy the needs of the true newspaper addict. The local press gives evidence of hard work and journalistic skill, and touches our daily lives in important ways. The person who reads only national publications is like the one who votes only in national elections.
Sometimes the press exists on a truly micro level. Looking back to adolescence when I was editor of The Walrus, our school newspaper, I value my apprenticeship in putting news together in readable form. With our own twist, we informed our fellow students, faculty members, and everyone else in our community about what was going on.
By way of continuity, for the last dozen years I have published a paper, The Howl, for residents of my small street and adjoining parts of our neighborhood. This publication I serve as copy boy, reporter, editor, deliverer, and general factotum.
Richard Griffin