TOO BIG TO WHAT?

When you invest, even if it’s just for retirement, you’re told to diversify your risks.

Why is it, then, that it seems OK to keep having big corporations merge into less and less competition? During the Bush I and Bush II regimes, we saw what that meant for the banking industry: big bailouts on the taxpayers’ tab.

We were, after all, faced with another Great Depression.

Seems to me it would be far healthier to spread the risks here, too: break out into smaller companies – which would make more of them, too.

Along the way, there would be fewer layers of high management – and think of all the savings in executive pay along the way.

Those who advocate a free market need to remember: any company that’s too big to fail without taking down the rest of the economy is a threat. Period.

THE DISAPPEARING INDIVIDUAL

Not too long ago, the pharmacist owned the drug store, the corner bank had its own president, the local publisher owned the newspaper, and so on. Each one knew the community, and each one could make independent decisions. Each one also had a desire to be respected by those he or she served. Often, too, it was a family affair.

Now, of course, the pharmacy is headed by a manager who reports to a district supervisor who may report to an assistant vice-president somewhere who reports to a president of a subsidiary who reports to another vice-president of a conglomerate who reports to a president who reports to a CEO who probably has little real decision-making power, thanks to all of the policies that must be followed, thanks to a board of directors beholden to the major stockholders. As if you could name any of these people. Ditto for the bank and the newspaper and what used to be the local department store.

At each level of hierarchy, there’s little room for discretionary action – it’s all a matter of enforcing policy, especially as it relates to maximizing short-term profit.

Important local leaders have been reduced cogs following orders from afar. And the big money follows. Note, too, that the emphasis is on stockholders, not shareholders, who would include the workers, their communities, and even the faithful customers.

How, then, do we reclaim our full community, and heal the damage? It’s a basic question for democracy, after all, if the American Experiment is to continue, especially with any sense of equality and fairness.

BIAS

Pejorative labels do nothing to advance public discourse. Rather, they’re intended to stifle it. Even worse, they inhibit clear thinking or positive outcomes.

Consider the charge of “liberal media.” Or even “the media,” especially when used in the singular rather than the plural. In reality, American newspapers, magazines, and commercial broadcast stations have long been corporately owned, with the focus on some very profitable bottom lines. Corporations, as the epitome of capitalism, rarely fit neatly into the liberal end of the political spectrum. And so “corporate media” would be far more accurate than the “liberal media” mirage. A closer look would also find most of the editorial pages are of a conservative slant – and nearly all of the political and economic columnists syndicated in the past quarter century have been openly conservative. I’d like to hear of any liberals. In addition, in my experience, the media are highly competitive – there’s no collusion or conspiracy regarding what we’ll cover or ignore, Fox News excepted. For that matter, the media extend into the entertainment media as well – Hollywood, Nashville, Madison Avenue, and Broadway, among others.

Professional reporters and editors, meanwhile, learn to keep their own political and social views out of the way: the goal is to listen carefully and respectfully to all relevant sides of the issue and to present that as clearly as possible, especially in determining what’s new in the event being covered.

I’ve come to the conclusion that those who accuse news organizations and personnel of bias actually have no interest in objective reporting – what they want is bias, of their own right-wing persuasion or even more blatant propaganda. Ideology, rather than fact. The truth be damned, in their hearts.

Perhaps nothing should be more telling than Spiro Agnew’s rabid attacks on a free press, especially when we consider he had every reason to keep reporters off the track of his own criminal actions – and those of his boss, Richard Nixon, all the more. All the while, we covered his attacks on us verbatim and uncontested – had we been anything like he accused us of being, his words never would have seen the light of day, or blasted by critical comment as he spoke them.

If anything, I think of all the years when I willingly suppressed my own convictions – and the price that’s imposed. At last, finally out of the trade, I can truly speak and write freely.

ABOUT THAT ADVANTAGE

Where I live, you’ll often hear about the “New Hampshire Advantage,” which argues that the state’s economic growth is a consequence of its lack of income and sales taxes. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy not paying extra at the store. But I also know that the sharp difference in my rent in Manchester, when I arrived, and what I was paying in Baltimore was caused by the property taxes here. When I added my Baltimore and Maryland income taxes to my rent there, it equaled what I was paying here. Voila! You’ll pay one way or another. The question is where and who bears the brunt of the cost.

The real New Hampshire Advantage is its proximity to Greater Boston and the economic powerhouses connected with the Harvard Business School and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Nearly half of the New Hampshire population that has a job commutes south each morning to workplaces across the border. The better-paying jobs, in fact. It’s largely a one-way flow, too. If lower taxes were a real stimulus, the entire Granite State would be booming, which is hardly the case in our economically depressed North Country or the Connecticut River’s Upper Valley. Just take a look around Berlin or Claremont and all their devastation.

Still, public services cost money, and the dynamic is that anything requiring labor is going to cost increasingly more. In economics, it’s called the Baumol effect, after a study of performing arts institutions.

New Hampshire is no exception. The real question is just where the additional state revenue will come from, and that always returns us to ill-fated proposals for an income or sales tax.

But complicating any income-tax discussion in the Granite State is the matter of reciprocity: normally, you pay a state income tax where you work rather than where you live. And normally, there are roughly equal numbers of workers commuting between two states to balance the equation. But that’s not the case in New Hampshire. So an income tax to lower property tax bills, as it’s usually framed, would mean either that the cross-border commuters would have to pay twice, both at the workplace and then at home, or that those folks who both live and work within the Granite State would have to subsidize the break given to the others.

It’s a genuine conundrum. Advantage? Beggar-thy-neighbor works only so long.

30

Sometimes it’s hard to believe how much has changed since I entered the field of journalism four-and-a-half decades ago. Even as a high school student editor, I was engaged in a craft that was pretty much as it had been for the previous eight decades, in the long shadow of the introduction of the Linotype machine. We could see ourselves rooted in an even longer tradition of newspapering arising in the handset type era before that. Think of the New York Times dispatches during the Civil War. Printing was still mostly by letterpress, even though the newer offset method with its superior reproduction of photographs was making inroads. Every other week, I would trot down to our printer’s with our latest round of stories and pictures, get correction proofs a few days later, and then release the edition for publication.

We were quite limited in the typefaces available to us. I wanted what was then an elegant new typeface that our shop didn’t own — Times New Roman. Hard to believe how ubiquitous it’s become, or how much further we’ve come as well. But he did have Caslon, which became one of my favorites — in part because of its use in the Sunday editions of the New York Herald Tribune. And Bodoni, in part because of its indestructible nature, was the standard headline choice; try finding it on your computer selections these days. Photos were another matter altogether, as were student photographers. Polaroid shots were a radical leap into the future, and usually far more reliable. Polaroid?

Writers, of course, used typewriters. Not just reporters, but almost everyone except for the select few writers who could still write in longhand and have a secretary or typist service transcribe the results. Secretaries? Typewriters? Typists? And what often astonished me was how antiquated the typewriters in most newsrooms were — clunky old uprights, unlike the elegant (and electric) IBM Selectrics I’d see while passing the local jeweler’s, where they were rarely used. (Unlike those of us who were writing for a living.) The Selectrics, I might add, came into newsrooms later, only with the advent of text scanners, which was a huge setback for the written word. But that’s another rant.

Typewriters introduced their own traditions, especially on deadline. Reporters would finish the first page of a story with the line, MORE, and then begin their next page with a slug line for the story, say CITY HALL, followed by the notation, TAKE ONE or ADD ONE, and then continue. This would go on for however many sheets of paper were needed until the story was finished. And then the reporter would add the line: 30. Perhaps as — 30 — or #30#. But always thirty.

And that’s even without mentioning the carbon copies. (The what?)

We can argue where that tradition began, but it was universal in the trade. If the reporter was working on a breaking story, the first page could be sent to the copy desk, be edited, and even sent to the composing room while the rest of the story was being drafted. A headline could be written and set in type, for that matter. Minutes counted. The first part of story could even be set in hot lead type while the reporter was working toward the ending.

Editors, meanwhile, would be writing headlines using an elaborate tradition of their own. These were all valued skills. And the result mattered.

Sometimes, I can almost smell the newsroom where I became a professional, thanks to Glenn Thompson. Or his advice about keeping a journal. Or some of the others since. Still, it’s hard to believe how far I’ve come over the years.

These days, a news story comes as a single take. A computer file you scroll through. We paginate on a large computer screen, designing a page for publication. All of the highly skilled typesetters, compositors, engravers, proofreaders, and more I admired — and who provided me a safety net — are long gone. Am I getting misty?

There’s an additional reason. When it’s come to my professional career in journalism, the time has come to write:

30

LOCAL, LOCAL

Ever since Watergate, daily newspapers have devoted more and more of their resources and attention to what they consider local news. Editors and publishers look at surveys where readers say the want local, and decide that’s what we’ll give them – at least until the news business tailspin.

Never mind that the readers’ definition of local news might be quite different from what happens at city hall or even the school board. Or that what happens in one town holds absolutely no interest to the readers living in 99 other localities.

In fact, most of the time, there’s nothing more boring than local news.

When Thomas Jobson led the Asbury Park Press in New Jersey, he relied on a different definition – not “local news,” but “news of local interest.” And so a Mike Royko column out of Chicago just might run on the front page. Circulation at Jobson’s paper soared, while at least one of its neighboring rivals withered.

I’ve taken the lesson well.

FOUR MEASURES

There are many different definitions of what makes news, even among journalism professionals. These frameworks can lead to quite divergent ideas of what should or shouldn’t go into a given newspaper or newscast, much less out on the front page or at the top of the hour. The expectations can definitely shape the voice and tone that emerges.

The one standard I’ve come to rely on came to me via my mentor, Steve Kent, from his days in Albany, New York. There, a story was judged on four measures: whether it’s accurate, informative, entertaining, and useful.

Accuracy, of course, would include fairness. Informative would likewise include being new, something not widely yet known. Entertaining would often mean well written rather than amusing, at least for most serious events. And useful keeps the readership’s needs in mind.

Try it yourself, next time you’re opening the pages or tuning in to the newscast.