Holding onto journalistic traditions

I'm just getting in from a rockin' show by Maine's very own Matt Newberg and the Hurricane at the St. Lawrence Arts and Community Center in Portland. The St. Lawrence is a historic church that had been abandoned on Munjoy Hill in Portland. A neighborhood group, friends of the St. Lawrence, have decided to organize and reclaim this abandoned space. They are in the process of turning it into a place where people can gather, away from the cares of our world that is increasingly spinning out of control.

Speaking of out of control, what the heck has happened to journalism in this country? If we can't count on journalists to dig and investigate the corruption, lies, and other shenanigans of our elected (and handsomely paid) public officials, in particular those of the Bush Crime Syndicate, we are in for some rough sledding, my friends.

One of the few journalists operating, who is a throwback to the days when muckraking was a term of honor amongst the profession, Frank Rich, has an excellent column from the upcoming edition of the Sunday New York Times. It requires free registration, which is worth one's while, because The Times, along with The Washington Post, occasionally still practices journalism.

I'm pasting Rich's column in for your edification.

January 16, 2005

The New York Times

"All the President's Newsmen"

by, Frank Rich

One day after the co-host Tucker Carlson made his farewell appearance and two days after the new president of CNN made the admirable announcement that he would soon kill the program altogether, a television news miracle occurred: even as it staggered through its last nine yards to the network guillotine, "Crossfire" came up with the worst show in its fabled 23-year history. This was a half-hour of television so egregious that it makes Jon Stewart's famous pre-election rant seem, if anything, too kind. This time "Crossfire" wasn't just "hurting America," as Mr. Stewart put it, by turning news into a nonsensical gong show. It was unwittingly, or perhaps wittingly, complicit in the cover-up of a scandal.

I do not mean to minimize the CBS News debacle and other recent journalistic outrages at The New York Times and elsewhere. But the Jan. 7 edition of CNN's signature show can stand as an exceptionally ripe paradigm of what is happening to the free flow of information in a country in which a timid news media, the fierce (and often covert) Bush administration propaganda machine, lax and sometimes corrupt journalistic practices, and a celebrity culture all combine to keep the public at many more than six degrees of separation from anything that might resemble the truth.

On this particular "Crossfire," the featured guest was Armstrong Williams, a conservative commentator, talk-show host and newspaper columnist (for papers like The Washington Times and The Detroit Free Press, among many others, according to his Web site). Thanks to investigative reporting by USA Today, he had just been unmasked as the frontman for a scheme in which $240,000 of taxpayers' money was quietly siphoned to him through the Department of Education and a private p.r. firm so that he would "regularly comment" upon (translation: shill for) the Bush administration's No Child Left Behind policy in various media venues during an election year. Given that "Crossfire" was initially conceived as a program for tough interrogation and debate, you'd think that the co-hosts still on duty after Mr. Carlson's departure might try to get some answers about this scandal, whose full contours, I suspect, we are only just beginning to discern.

But there is nothing if not honor among bloviators. "On the left," as they say at "Crossfire," Paul Begala, a Democratic political consultant, offered condemnations of the Bush administration but had only soft questions and plaudits for Mr. Williams. Three times in scarcely as many minutes Mr. Begala congratulated his guest for being "a stand-up guy" simply for appearing in the show's purportedly hostile but entirely friendly confines. When Mr. Williams apologized for having crossed "some ethical lines," that was enough to earn Mr. Begala's benediction: "God bless you for that."

"On the right" was the columnist Robert Novak, who "in the interests of full disclosure" told the audience he is a "personal friend" of Mr. Williams, whom he "greatly" admires as "one of the foremost voices for conservatism in America." Needless to say, Mr. Novak didn't have any tough questions, either, but we should pause a moment to analyze this "Crossfire" co-host's disingenuous use of the term "full disclosure."

Last year Mr. Novak had failed to fully disclose - until others in the press called him on it - that his son is the director of marketing for Regnery, the company that published "Unfit for Command," the Swift boat veterans' anti-Kerry screed that Mr. Novak flogged relentlessly on CNN and elsewhere throughout the campaign. Nor had he fully disclosed, as Mary Jacoby of Salon reported, that Regnery's owner also publishes his subscription newsletter ($297 a year). Nor has Mr. Novak fully disclosed why he has so far eluded any censure in the federal investigation of his outing of a C.I.A. operative, Valerie Plame, while two other reporters, Judith Miller of The Times and Matt Cooper of Time, are facing possible prison terms in the same case. In this context, Mr. Novak's "full disclosure" of his friendship with Mr. Williams is so anomalous that it raised many more questions than it answers.

That he and Mr. Begala would be allowed to lob softballs at a man who may have been a cog in illegal government wrongdoing, on a show produced by television's self-proclaimed "most trusted" news network, is bad enough. That almost no one would notice, let alone protest, is a snapshot of our cultural moment, in which hidden agendas in the presentation of "news" metastasize daily into a Kafkaesque hall of mirrors that could drive even the most earnest American into abject cynicism. But the ugly bigger picture reaches well beyond "Crossfire" and CNN.

Mr. Williams has repeatedly said in his damage-control press appearances that he was being paid the $240,000 only to promote No Child Left Behind. He also routinely says that he made the mistake of taking the payola because he wasn't part of the "media elite" and therefore didn't know "the rules and guidelines" of journalistic conflict-of-interest. His own public record tells us another story entirely. While on the administration payroll he was not only a cheerleader for No Child Left Behind but also for President Bush's Iraq policy and his performance in the presidential debates. And for a man who purports to have learned of media ethics only this month, Mr. Williams has spent an undue amount of time appearing as a media ethicist on both CNN and the cable news networks of NBC.

He took to CNN last October to give his own critique of the CBS News scandal, pointing out that the producer of the Bush-National Guard story, Mary Mapes, was guilty of a conflict of interest because she introduced her source, the anti-Bush partisan Bill Burkett, to a Kerry campaign operative, Joe Lockhart. In this Mr. Williams's judgment was correct, but grave as Ms. Mapes's infraction was, it isn't quite in the same league as receiving $240,000 from the United States Treasury to propagandize for the Bush campaign on camera. Mr. Williams also appeared with Alan Murray on CNBC to trash Kitty Kelley's book on the Bush family, on CNN to accuse the media of being Michael Moore's "p.r. machine" and on Tina Brown's CNBC talk show to lambaste Mr. Stewart for doing a "puff interview" with John Kerry on "The Daily Show" (which Mr. Williams, unsurprisingly, seems to think is a real, not a fake, news program).

But perhaps the most fascinating Williams TV appearance took place in December 2003, the same month that he was first contracted by the government to receive his payoffs. At a time when no one in television news could get an interview with Dick Cheney, Mr. Williams, of all "journalists," was rewarded with an extended sit-down with the vice president for the Sinclair Broadcast Group, a nationwide owner of local stations affiliated with all the major networks. In that chat, Mr. Cheney criticized the press for its coverage of Halliburton and denounced "cheap shot journalism" in which "the press portray themselves as objective observers of the passing scene, when they obviously are not objective."

This is a scenario out of "The Manchurian Candidate." Here we find Mr. Cheney criticizing the press for a sin his own government was at that same moment signing up Mr. Williams to commit. The interview is broadcast by the same company that would later order its ABC affiliates to ban Ted Koppel's "Nightline" recitation of American casualties in Iraq and then propose showing an anti-Kerry documentary, "Stolen Honor," under the rubric of "news" in prime time just before Election Day. (After fierce criticism, Sinclair retreated from that plan.) Thus the Williams interview with the vice president, implicitly presented as an example of the kind of "objective" news Mr. Cheney endorses, was in reality a completely subjective, bought-and-paid-for fake news event for a broadcast company that barely bothers to fake objectivity and both of whose chief executives were major contributors to the Bush-Cheney campaign. The Soviets couldn't have constructed a more ingenious or insidious plot to bamboozle the citizenry.
Ever since Mr. Williams was exposed by USA Today, he has been stonewalling all questions about what the Bush administration knew of his activities and when it knew it. In his account, he was merely a lowly "subcontractor" of the education department. "Never was the White House ever mentioned anytime during this," he told NBC's Campbell Brown, as if that were enough to deflect Ms. Brown's observation that "the Department of Education works for the White House." For its part, the White House is saying that the whole affair is, in the words of the press secretary, Scott McClellan, "a contracting matter" and "a decision by the Department of Education." In other words, the buck stops (or started) with Rod Paige, the elusive outgoing education secretary who often appeared with Mr. Williams in his pay-for-play propaganda.
But we now know that there have been at least three other cases in which federal agencies have succeeded in placing fake news reports on television during the Bush presidency. The Department of Health and Human Services, the Census Bureau and the Office of National Drug Control Policy have all sent out news "reports" in which, to take one example, fake newsmen purport to be "reporting" why the administration's Medicare prescription-drug policy is the best thing to come our way since the Salk vaccine. So far two Government Accountability Office investigations have found that these Orwellian stunts violated federal law that prohibits "covert propaganda" purchased with taxpayers' money. But the Williams case is the first one in which a well-known talking head has been recruited as the public face for the fake news instead of bogus correspondents (recruited from p.r. companies) with generic eyewitness-news team names like Karen Ryan and Mike Morris.

Or is Mr. Williams merely the first one of his ilk to be exposed? Every time this administration puts out fiction through the news media - the "Rambo" exploits of Jessica Lynch, the initial cover-up of Pat Tillman's death by friendly fire - it's assumed that a credulous and excessively deferential press was duped. But might there be more paid agents at loose in the media machine? In response to questions at the White House, Mr. McClellan has said that he is "not aware" of any other such case and that he hasn't "heard" whether the administration's senior staff knew of the Williams contract - nondenial denials with miles of wiggle room. Mr. Williams, meanwhile, has told both James Rainey of The Los Angeles Times and David Corn of The Nation that he has "no doubt" that there are "others" like him being paid for purveying administration propaganda and that "this happens all the time." So far he is refusing to name names - a vow of omertà all too reminiscent of that taken by the low-level operatives first apprehended in that "third-rate burglary" during the Nixon administration.

If CNN, just under new management, wants to make amends for the sins of "Crossfire," it might dispatch some real reporters to find out just which "others" Mr. Williams is talking about and to follow his money all the way back to its source.

Coronation of a king

Well, the week we’ve all been waiting for—inaugural week—is just around the corner. With the expected cost of the festivities expecting to exceed $40 million dollars, our compassionate conservative emperor hasn’t spared any expense for his coronation.

Historical precedent holds that war time presidents toned down inaugurals, from George Washington to Franklin Roosevelt. Washington postponed his until May 7 in 1789, while FDR didn’t have one at all in 1945, in deference to the American soldiers dying overseas. Our current president however, forever showing his privileged pedigree, isn’t going to allow a few dead troops to spoil his party. Not even a tsunami can keep George, Laura, and the twins from basking in the perks of power.

We all know that Captain Codpiece doesn’t like contact with the hoi polloi, so security is unprecedented from any previous presidential inaugural. Last estimates were that the cost of the security alone was topping $17 million for the 6,000 police and 2,500 storm troopers on hand, to keep the rabble away from our beloved despot. Part of this tab will be picked up by the city of D.C., already financially strapped and lacking in basic necessities for many of its predominantly poor, and coincidentally, African-American citizens. Let them eat cake!

Tuesday’s Toledo Blade got it right when the editorial writer wrote, “A diamond-studded package of receptions, concerts, fireworks on the Ellipse, three candlelight dinners, and no fewer than nine official inaugural balls are set, all enclosed in a cocoon of security said to be the tightest of any in the 216-year history of such events.

Everything is bigger, more lavish, and more costly than any of the 54 presidential inaugurals that have gone before. For those who can afford them, tickets to the various events come hitched to sponsorship costs of $100,000 and $250,000. To the casual observer, it might appear that a coronation is about to occur, although we have it on good authority that the United States is still a constitutional democracy - albeit one whose presidential.” I’ll shout a hearty, “Amen!” to that!

Not everyone is overjoyed about the gala events, come January 20th. Groups from all over the country are planning to forego the balls and expensive black tie dinners, and actually wage some citizen dissent. Events as simple as turning one’s back on the president, to others being planned by Code Pink and Billionaires for Bush plan on letting the country know that not everyone approves of our leader's actions.

In a truly weird item, Mike Malloy reported on his show last night on Air America that there was a news report indicating that Bush and his security people are refusing to allow members of the crowd to look at the president? Entertainers and other performers supposedly were told not to look at him while they performed at events attended by the leader of the Bush Family Crime Syndicate. I’m not sure how they plan on doing this short of shooting anyone who dares cast their eyes upon his visage. Come to think of it, that might not be that farfetched? As to the veracity of the report, I’ve been unable to find an actual news story or link that supports this, but knowing Malloy, I don’t doubt that it’s true. I’ll continue to look, but if anyone has a link, please send it my way and I’ll be happy to put it up for others.

Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on our president and his quest for royalty. Personally, I’ve always preferred our supposedly representative form or government, to the British system of Kings and Queens.

Speaking of English royalty, it appears that Prince Harry doesn’t know that wearing a Nazi uniform to a costume party might offend a few people. Apparently his privileged education at the best schools that money can buy, never taught the little snot any history (Holocaust? What's a Holocaust?).

The powerful keep finding new ways to show themselves to be the pompous, condescending asses that they really are.

The Zen of winter

Yesterday brought another winter weather event to those of us assigned to the purgatory that is the Northeast in January. Actually, despite the warnings of the local news and weather people, with their dire storm theme music and predictions of treacherous travel, yesterday’s “storm” wasn’t bad at all.

I spent part of my afternoon commute to my soon-to-be ending seasonal job, reflecting on when did all this hysteria around a few snowflakes begin? While I may have missed it with the more important pursuits of growing up—girls, games and guitars—I rarely remember snow being a big deal, and we seemed to have more frequent snowfalls, with greater amounts.

As I tooled along Route 136 bordering the Androscoggin River heading into Auburn, the road had a few places where I could feel my car beginning to slide, so I just backed off the accelerator, like any winter-driving pro would do. Unfortunately for me, I never got to utilize my winter driving skills to the max, as I approached car after car, barely creeping along at 30 mph. Most of the trip could have been easily negotiated at or approaching the posted speed limit of 45, if not for the incessant fear-laden drivers in my path.

Winter has its perks. You’ll think I’m crazy, but most of the time, I enjoy shoveling after a fresh snowfall. No snowblower or tractor for me to clear the compound. No sir! Certainly, if one has a bad back, or other physical limitations shoveling might kill you; at the least, it might land you in the hospital. Fortunately for me, I’m still not too fat, or decrepit to systematically clear my paths and area of the driveway where my cars sit. Granted, I have a snowplow come and clear my 300 foot driveway, but the other areas of my yard bring a certain enjoyment in the patterns created with my shovel and strong back.

Probably the pleasure derived from shoveling was learned as a child, when my father and I would go out after a storm and work our way, first shoveling the driveway, path to the mailbox, and clothesline area for my mom. Over the years, I’ve developed a particular fastidiousness about keeping my yard clean, whether it was the small apartment I lived in, or the rural three acres I sit on today.

The temperatures are supposed to rise and tomorrow, rain is predicted. That’s the part of winter I’ve come to despise. If we’d only have snow, without sleet, freezing rain and plain rain, I’d probably enjoy winter more. At least I got a couple of treks through the woods in on my skis over the past few days. It was a needed diversion from manuscript editing, working on my monthly newsletter for WriteforYou, and the other drudgery of being cooped up inside.

Not in a million years

Imagine for a moment that you are driving down a road in a rural part of a state like Maine (could be Montana, upstate New York, South Dakota, or other states with low population densities). You pass very few houses along the unfamiliar road that you are motoring down. It’s now late in the afternoon and you decide to pop open the glove box of your vehicle and take out that weed you’ve been dying to smoke.

After taking your time and rolling a perfect joint, you fire it up and enjoy the first few tokes of some mighty fine pot. Seeing that it’s a perfect summer day and you feel up to a walk in nature, you leave your vehicle and strike out down a path just a few yards off the road. About 30 minutes later, the combination of the pot, the three beers and the uppers you took earlier are all making you disoriented. You decide to head back to your truck, but after an hour of thrashing through the underbrush, you can’t find the goddamn vehicle.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you come out on a road that you don’t recognize. About 6pm, see an older couple just arriving home at the farmhouse on your right and decide that you’ll try to arrange your disheveled hair and pick the burrs out of your beard before asking for some directions. Somewhat paranoid from the drugs and feeling foolish at your stupidity, you sheepishly invent a story about fishing and getting lost, while asking for directions. The older man is very accommodating and even offers you lemonade on this hot July day, before volunteering to drive you back to your truck.

When you finally locate the vehicle, it’s obvious someone’s been in the glove box, as your dope is gone, and so is your journal, registration, and receipts. Not wanting to say anything to the Good Samaritan that just gave you a lift and saved your sorry ass, you thank him and wave as he drives away.

The next afternoon, after completing your chores, you hear a news report about a missing 15 year old, the next town over. You wonder if she ran away and if they’ll ever find her, before quickly pushing it out of your mind as you clean up and begin preparing your dinner.

Later that night, around 10pm, there is a knock at your door. You are startled as you were in the back room and had dozed off while watching television. You natural inclination is to assume the worst, because knocks at night are never about good news. Two county sheriff’s deputies are standing at your door. They want to ask some questions about papers of yours that were found near the body of a dead 15 year old girl in the general area where you were lost yesterday.

Sound farfetched? Well meet the story of Dennis Dechaine. While the fictional account above varies somewhat from his story, the general gist of his conviction for a murder back in 1988 that many (myself included) are convinced he didn’t commit, forms the basis for my little tale.

I wrote about his situation back in August on my blog over at JBIWFY. Interestingly, the organization Trial and Error found my post for that day and has put it up at their website.

Dennis Dechaine has been incarcerated since the summer of 1988 on a case that was mishandled, bureaucratically bungled, and has serious holes in the state’s case against him.

Jim Moore, the former federal agent and author of Human Sacrifice, systematically takes the case apart in his excellent book. Like many, Moore assumed Dechaine was some psycho, or pervert, and was justly locked away in the bowels of Maine’s prison system. When he attended a local meeting of Trial and Error for the heck of it, to see what kind of whackos would be defending a murderer, Moore became intrigued and impressed with the level of commitment he saw.

As he began his investigations for the book, it became apparent that there were serious criminal justice issues, evidence destruction and other information that was withheld from the jury.

I urge Mainers to read the book and get involved with freeing Dennis. If you live in another state, you will find the book extremely interesting and it will make you realize that there are countless men and women locked away within our criminal justice system for crimes they didn’t commit. The truly scary part is that the actual killers are still walking around, free to kill again and again.

Tommorrow is “Dennis Dechaine Day-2005” at the State House in Augusta. Members of Trial and Error will be there and taking part in a conference call with Dennis. Members will also be lobbying state representatives on Dennis’ behalf, calling for a complete and independent investigation into a reopened case.

It’s so easy to be callous and think, “that would never happen to me”; the reality is that Dennis Dechaine never thought it would happen to him, and yet he sits at Thomaston, where he’s been incarcerated for the past 17+ years.

The hour grows closer

I was up early this morning after four and one half hours of sleep. I had worked an eight hour shift last night at my seasonal call center job and didn't get in until after midnight.

My book proposal has occupied my day, from about 5:30am, until now. I did manage to get out for a brief walk with my trusty companion, Bernie. Other than that, it's been edit, edit, edit, trying to get my sample chapters up to a standard that an editor will sit up and say, "damn, this some good writing."

I should be ready at some point tomorrow to get my first mailing out to a publisher and thus begins the waiting game.

As I wrote the other night, it's somewhat frustrating to see non-writers touting books that anyone knows damn well, they didn't write. Writing is a grind, whether you are writing poetry, fiction, sci-fi, or nonfiction.

At this point, I'm running on fumes and not able to focus enough to write anything coherent on some of the topics I intended to touch on earlier in the day.