My hometown newspaper ran a story today that said there are 12 reported cases of the Covid-19 Delta variant in West Virginia. The story was reprinted from another newspaper owned by the same media chain, and failed to mention that one of the cases is right here in Marion County. That would have been useful to know, so my wife—a curious sort—went to another source and found that piece of information.
Now, before you click off, this is not another essay about Covid-19 and its variant cousins. It’s an essay about local news in the year 2021 and the apparent death of curiosity.
First off, it’s bad enough that the local paper only publishes four days a week now and operates with a skeleton staff, or that it doesn’t cover a lot of important stories and has to print news from its sister publications, or that most of the stories it does publish are days old and have already been posted on Facebook … but what’s really sad is that on a story as important as the Covid pandemic, no one bothered to pick up a phone, call the local Health Department and ask if there was a Delta case in our county. It would have been so easy to add a single sentence to the story they had taken from somewhere else.
A couple of years ago, our hometown college basketball team went on a two-game road trip and the star player sat on the bench and never played in either game. There was nothing in the paper to explain what happened, so I emailed the Sports Department and asked if he was hurt or just being disciplined for some infraction, and got this reply: “I don’t know. We don’t go to away games.”
Seriously? We have a highly successful Division II basketball team in our city and you don’t go to road games? Okay, but don’t you watch the live streams like I do, and weren’t you a little bit curious as to why the star player was seated on the bench wearing a sweat suit?
Here’s another sports story: This year, the second-best player on the women’s team was injured early in the season. When she didn’t return after several games, I asked the Sports Department if she was coming back at all. The reply: “I don’t know. She’s on the bench during games but she’s not in uniform.” Again, where’s the curiosity?
(You realize that even small colleges like Fairmont State have sports information departments who exist solely to deliver sports information to the public. That’s why they call them the sports information department. I’m sure they have both telephones and email so here’s an idea: Why don’t you call them up and ask?)
And here’s one more: Back before Covid, there was a traffic accident in which a car struck a fire hydrant releasing an unknown quantity of water into the street. The quantity was unknown because no one bothered to ask the Water Department. I believe the story mentioned “a lot of water.” Also, if I recall correctly, the story also failed to identify the driver of the car, even though he was still at the scene and was just standing around when the reporter arrived. I guess the question, “What is your name” was too challenging for him to ask.
Now don’t get me wrong. I know that things are different from when I was a reporter. That struck home when our local paper ran an ad seeking a “multi-media specialist”—what they call reporters today—and I realized I wasn’t qualified for the job despite 13 years in the business. It seems that newspaper technology has passed me by, not that I care, being retired and all. Still, it saddens me to see what has become of local reporting.
Aside from the ability to write, the key qualification for a journalist should be natural curiosity … as in the ability to know what questions to ask, how to ask them and who to ask, and not being afraid to ask them. Many years ago, when I thought I knew everything, my first editor taught me to stop writing for myself and start writing for my readers. “What does it mean to the people out there and why should they care?” he told me once, adding that a good reporter never writes a story that raises more questions than it answers.
So with that in mind, I want to know who killed curiosity and when it died. Was it the sound bite that did the deed? Or social media? Is everybody writing for the website now and the serious reader be damned? Is it so important to get the news first and fastest that accuracy and thoroughness have been thrown away? Or are staffs too small, too overworked, too poorly paid and too poorly trained to get the complete story, or even to care what the complete story ought to be?
I suspect it is all of those things, and someday, when all of the newspapers have closed their doors and local print journalism is dead, we may look back and think that as much as anything, it helped to kill itself.
I wonder about these things because, well, because I’m curious, and I wish that today's local reporters were, too. I mean, I still don't know what happened to that basketball player who got hurt or whether we'll ever see her play again. I guess I'll find out when the next season starts.
Or maybe not.