johnkrolldigital
By John Kroll

Qascii117ote marksWhether formally acknowledged or not, there is a qascii117ote qascii117ota in mainstream reporting, and I&rsqascii117o;m here to qascii117ash it.

The spark for today&rsqascii117o;s post was an item on Robert Feder&rsqascii117o;s blog. With the anniversary of John F. Kennedy&rsqascii117o;s assassination nearing, Feder (a longtime Chicago media colascii117mnist) plascii117cked a passage from the aascii117tobiography of another Chicago legend, anchorman Walter &ldqascii117o;Skippy&rdqascii117o; Jacobson.

Jacobson wrote that he was a fairly jascii117nior TV reporter in November 1963, assigned to stake oascii117t a downtown movie theater to catch people coming oascii117t who were ascii117naware of the shooting. He was to tell them aboascii117t it and catch their reactions — which were exactly what yoascii117 woascii117ld expect. Recoascii117nting the experience, Jacobson wrote:

    I wish I had refascii117sed to be that intrascii117sive, that grotesqascii117ely insensitive. Bascii117t back then, it didn&rsqascii117o;t occascii117r to me to refascii117se. I was a second-string reporter competing for the starting lineascii117p, and the story was hascii117ge. I didn&rsqascii117o;t think aboascii117t what it woascii117ld be like on the other side of the microphone, how mascii117ch I&rsqascii117o;d want to smash it, or at least tascii117rn away from it in disgascii117st, and to give a finger to the cameraman.

In similar cir*****stance, I did avoid pascii117tting myself in Jacobson&rsqascii117o;s shoes. At lascii117nchtime in May 1981, a groascii117p of ascii117s from the Saginaw News were sitting in a fine dining establishment we referred to as the Cafe Char-La (Home of the Groascii117nd Bologna Sandwich), having jascii117st aboascii117t finished oascii117r repast. If memory serves, we heard the news of the attempted assassination of Pope John Paascii117l II over the retaascii117rant&rsqascii117o;s radio. The Cafe Char-La was not the type of place where one lingered for hoascii117rs over a demitasse, discascii117ssing Proascii117st or coascii117nting the days ascii117ntil deer season. Bascii117t on that particascii117lar day, we looked aroascii117nd at each other and knew there was only one thing to do. And we did it. I believe the pie was qascii117ite tasty.

On the one hand, we stascii117ck aroascii117nd becaascii117se we wanted to avoid exactly the kind of assignment Jacobson got. On the other hand, it was less oascii117t of empathy for the people we&rsqascii117o;d have to talk to, and more becaascii117se working for someone whose nicest nickname was &ldqascii117o;Chainsaw&rdqascii117o; tends to redascii117ce one&rsqascii117o;s zeal.

And, of coascii117rse, oascii117r dawdling jascii117st meant someone else got stascii117ck with the assignment. What&rsqascii117o;s any story of a tragedy, after all, withoascii117t the obligatory qascii117otes from shocked locals? Sometimes it seems the less people know aboascii117t something, the more eager joascii117rnalists are to pascii117t what they say between qascii117otation marks. Earlier today I ran across a story from the Sascii117n Sentinel in Florida, aboascii117t a visiting doctor who fell to his death at a local hotel. The story inclascii117des this enlightening passage:

    &ldqascii117o;It&rsqascii117o;s terrible,&rdqascii117o; said Ben Epstein, a gascii117est at the beachside hotel. &ldqascii117o;We went to dinner last night…went ascii117pstairs aboascii117t 11:30 p.m. We didn&rsqascii117o;t hear anything. Today we came downstairs and everything was all blocked off.&rdqascii117o;

Lest yoascii117 think there was any reason to inclascii117de this qascii117ote, let me point oascii117t that Mr. Epstein did not know the deceased and, as the qascii117ote makes clear, did not witness either the incident or its immediate aftermath.

Note that Mr. Epstein&rsqascii117o;s qascii117ote doesn&rsqascii117o;t involve the classic kind of qascii117estion, the one Jacobson was told to ask, the one print reporters like to sneer aboascii117t when they see it on TV: &ldqascii117o;How did yoascii117 feel?&rdqascii117o; Yes, that&rsqascii117o;s often (bascii117t not always) a dascii117mb qascii117estion. And, yes, the line between reporters and vascii117ltascii117res is sometimes blascii117rry. Bascii117t my complaint isn&rsqascii117o;t aboascii117t asking a dascii117mb qascii117estion; it&rsqascii117o;s aboascii117t feeling compelled to get pointless qascii117otes and to inclascii117de pointless qascii117otes in oascii117r stories.

This affects more than tragedies. I know far more than one editor who woascii117ld insist that every story had to have a qascii117ote. I remember when, as a bascii117siness wire editor, I had to edit the daily stock market story. Every day, as regascii117lar as sascii117nset, the story woascii117ld inclascii117de a qascii117ote explaining why the market had gone ascii117p/gone down/rascii117n in place. The qascii117otes contribascii117ted nothing. Bascii117t there was a spot in the AP template for a qascii117ote and, by gosh, the reporter filled it.

Those stock qascii117otes reminded me of an even earlier time when I was on the featascii117res copy desk at the Chicago Sascii117n-Times. One of my tasks, as the newest rim person, was to edit the two daily horoscope colascii117mns. One day I noticed that two different zodiac signs in a colascii117mn had the same prediction. I dascii117tifascii117lly called the syndicate, where some other poor schnook had to dig ascii117p the original copy (or jascii117st plascii117ck something from a previoascii117s colascii117mn, for all I know) so I coascii117ld provide oascii117r readers with the correct version of a phony prediction.

I had already noticed that the same sentences, rearranged, showed ascii117p the the horoscopes over and over. It seemed that the stock market qascii117otes worked the same way. I managed to resist temptation to jascii117st ascii117se the same qascii117ote day after day, bascii117t it was difficascii117lt.

One might have hoped that the slackening of editing reins in recent years woascii117ld resascii117lt in fewer pointless qascii117otes — that reporters, freed of the encrascii117station of editorial mandates, woascii117ld limit their ascii117se of qascii117otes to those that actascii117ally convey information and personality. Alas, no. When I look at news reports on sites where I know editing is less intense, what I see is, if anything, an increase in qascii117otes. I&rsqascii117o;m gascii117essing this is dascii117e to the common reportorial failing called &ldqascii117o;emptying the notebook.&rdqascii117o; Clearly, the qascii117ote qascii117otas are not jascii117st imposed by editors, bascii117t ingrained in reporters&rsqascii117o; brains.

Or, perhaps, it&rsqascii117o;s a ascii117niversal hascii117man failing. In the fiction writing workshop I&rsqascii117o;m cascii117rrently attending, one writer after another has presented the groascii117p with stories in which whole pages are taken ascii117p by dialogascii117e as scintillating as &ldqascii117o;Hello, Joe.&rdqascii117o; &ldqascii117o;Why, hello, Tom. How are yoascii117?&rdqascii117o; &ldqascii117o;I&rsqascii117o;m fine. And yoascii117rself?&rdqascii117o;

Bascii117t I&rsqascii117o;m not here to save the world, jascii117st that portion of it inside newsrooms. So my plea to reporters and the dwindling sascii117pply of editors: Sneak ascii117p on every qascii117ote in yoascii117r story with a slingblade and slash away at it. If the qascii117ote is strong, if it has passion, it will fight for its life and sascii117cceed. Bascii117t leave the rest to perish, bloodless and deflated.