court reporting, unfettered perspective

Just got back from covering a case at the Maricopa County Superior Court.

It's great to hang out in the courthouse as a reporter. The whole building has a sense of importance about it -- everything pomp and circumstance. I also find the proceedings fascinating. All the ritual, grandeur, and importance associated with law and justice in our society entices my longing for a meaningful career and even a well-earned sense of self-importance.

However, as a court reporter, you get your own sense of importance. A ghost in the midst of those affected, I can observe everything while withholding my own judgments -- there is enough judgment already. I feel a voyeuristic euphoria, jotting notes as the lives of those around me alter or come crashing down. This is the battlefield where academic pursuits of justice and ethics meet the concrete reality of human lives -- and myself, the ethereal observer floating above it all.

Or is that too poetic? It would be great to cover courts as a beat reporter. Yet, the environment also appears too formal, too planned, too...disingenuous. The high drama of the court contrasts with its lack of potential for description or inspiration. And in the courtroom, everyone has an agenda. It's hard to distinguish remorseful tears from calculated appeals for lenience -- one action, two very opposite interpretations.

Awash in interpretation, journalistic values become the confident armor of the reporter. The safety of facts lifts me above doubt, and the disaffection of my mission removes me from the emotional game. No matter the verdict, story in hand, I win.

Obama's commencement speech, -11 hours

So, I got assigned to do some reporting around Arizona State University's Sun Devil Stadium for The Arizona Republic. Too bad it was almost eleven hours before President Obama spoke.

I'm pretty pleased with my job, though. I spent about three hours wondering the stadium and campus, talking to anyone who looked remotely interesting, which turned into quite a few people. I would then call in to the newsroom with the gathered material and quotes. Not to be too self-congratulatory, but I feel it was a bit of an accomplishment to milk as much story out of the pre-Obama set up as I did. AND my name held on to the byline spot for most of the day. Of course, I was eventually bumped off by the full-time, staff reporters, but it was still good to contribute. My name is still at the end.

I've gotten pretty good at interviewing -- particularly impromptu, unanticipated interviews. The confidence and ability to walk up to someone on the street and politely interrogate them until I get the material I need has really boosted my reporting. Even my editor commented, "There was nothing going on, but Channing turned it into something."

I'm pretty satisfied with that one.

last of the opinions!

I need to quickly link to my last column of the semester!

This one is based of a real news story I covered for The Arizona Republic. Since about 80% of the time I talk about journalism with my friends the conversation turns to how bias the media is, I thought it would be interesting to address the issue from a candid, experience-style narrative.

Being a columnist and journalist provides a great opportunity for public—and published—reflection on stories that most news organizations try zealously to stomp out. I even thought it might be risky to voice my opinions after covering the story, so I took care to make the column as balanced too. The point really isn't my opinion anyway (confusing, right?), it's the lets-talk-about-it approach to our beliefs, and how we confront adversity. Ultimately, it's just about setting it all aside and getting the job done.

the best party ever, sources say

My opinion ran on Monday this week, but I was just too busy to blog until...NOW!

I'm finding it harder to have pure, theoretical opinions; that is, to talk abstractly about an issue. No doubt, I've developed the lazy imagination of a reporter.

While reporting takes a ton of time and effort, the reporter him/herself doesn't need to contribute much. Most good, well-reported stories will write themselves after skimming through your notes, assembling the strongest quote and outlining the narrative progression. The most difficult part—and any journalist can attest to this, regardless of whether they agree with anything else I'm saying—is coming up with a lede (the first sentence or paragraph, designed to capture the reader's attention). Ledes are often the biggest test of a writer's skill. If you've done enough good reporting, the rest of the story should come easily.

That's why writing opinions can, at times, be challenging. I'm lucky; I'm usually present for enough exciting/controversial events and issues that I can use my reporting skills in writing my opinions. However, I can't imagine being an opinion writer trapped in an office building or other such non-inspirational setting. At times, I struggle with this in school already. When classes start slicing into my time, and I'm stuck studying instead of going to events or lectures etc., coming up with an idea can be excruciating.

It creates a definite conflict between performing my job as a journalist and still keeping up with academia, but, right now, I feel like I'm getting the best of both worlds, a good balance between class time and adventure.

It really is incredible how much I've experience being a journalist; my world has expanded so much. Over the past two years, I have developed a gigantic list of contacts from all over Phoenix. They are the people I've contacted at one time or another for an article. My friend Joe and I joked yesterday that I should have a "thanks-for-helping-me-with-an-article-at-some-point" party, where everyone who has ever contributed to my work gets to meet and talk. It would be a big party—lucky I have contacts in the food business.

cock fights and cop fights

Breaking news continues throw exciting days my way.

I hadn't been at work for more than 30 minutes this afternoon before reports came in from the Arizona Humane Society of a major cock-fighting bust. My editor dispatched me to South Phoenix to grab the story.

I rarely venture into South Phoenix, and today served as a good reminder why -- it's crazy down there. I arrived at the cock-fighting house and took all the information available form the PIO officer. Three men detained by a group of police sat in the house's backyard, pestered by the continual barking of a nearby dog. I called back the information to the newsroom and stood in the shade of a Humane Society truck, out of the heat, to wait. The PIO, a very amiable guy, told me Humane Society officals were busy euthanizing the mistreated animals and an interview wouldn't be available for a while. Poor animals; some people are just sick.

I was begining to relax in the 80-degree, winter day when two officers sprinted past me. They tore down the street to their police car and gunned it past me, into the neighborhood. At the time, I was relaying more information back to the newsroom and my partner even commented on the rawrrrrrr of the car's engine. That was the first sign.

Soon after, I spotted a police helicopter making tight circles not more than two blocks to the south -- definitely odd. The PIO then drove off without talking to me. I desided to follow him since nothing was happening and sighted flashing lights in the distance.

Police swarmed the area. Residents stood outside, watching me suspiciously. No one knew quite what was going on, but it had something to do with South Mountain High School. Students loitered everywhere and it took a long time to locate the PIO on scene, the same guy from earlier.

He recognized me and waved me over, miles more friendly than his other police co-workers. The scene was still chaotic, but he filled me in: a group of seven to 12 students had assaulted a police officer after he tried to break up a confrontation.

While police tried to control the scene -- and the growning group of media reporter assembling for the story -- residents heckled the officers. They accused police of arresting their friends and family without charge, making an exaggerated show of it. It was a bad situation and I tried to stay out of the middle while still listening in.

I reported back frequently with the newsroom, gathering quotes and information. Luck had favored me by placing the two most imporant stories of the night so close together. Things settled down after about an hour and I headed back.

Crossing the Salt River into South Phoenix, you get the sense of being in another place entirely. The neighborhoods is run-down -- unpainted stucco, "bank owned" signs in broken windows, a "capture cam" guarding the entry to a housing development. That espoused with what I witnessed today doesn't make a good impression. I'm just lucky all of this happened during the afternoon, not at night.

the shadow of Watergate

Leonard Downie Jr., former executive editor of The Washington Post, will join the Cronkite School staff next fall so it comes as no surprise that the dean, et al., are promoting him as much as possible.

Downie lead the paper to many successes and took part in the most historic years of American journalism: the Watergate years. The romanticized notions of reporting that flowed from The Washington Post's Watergate coverage inspired millions of college grads to enter reporting, starting j-schools at nearly every university in the country. Since then—and for many reasons—the public's opinion of journalists has soured a bit, but there's no question Downie knows exactly what made journalism great.

A side note—
As I was heading into the Cronkite School, I heard two guys dressed in sports apparel comment on a nearby lecture poster hung on the street column outside:
"Hey, that actor guy, Leonard Downie Jr., is speaking. He wrote some kind of book or something."
"Yeah?"

Right. I guess the name resemblance IS striking. I couldn't help snicker.

It's not surprising that a prominent figure in journalism would have no recognition. Journalists, particularly editors, fade into the background of their stories. Most journalism doctrines applaud this; still, the moment was a bit sad—that any man so good at his job could be disregarded.

However, the scene differed inside. About 40 people came out, a fair number of them students. Downie talked about his new book, a work of fiction, which took my interest considering fiction is generally not a journalist's forte.

I have another of his books, The News About the News, which he spoke about on a separate occasion, and found it pretty straight forward. In a journalistic tone—that is, factual and dry—Downie explains a series of award-winning stories his staff worked on during his time as editor. I haven't finished it.

There's no doubt Downie would make an excellent addition to the faculty here, however. He's definitely sharp, tactfully deflecting a questioner who seemed hell-bent on blaming all newspapers for the war in Iraq.

He also understands—as anyone who has worked in a newsroom does—the pressures and responsibilities of the journalist, but can explain them without sounding self-righteous, a rare ability in j-professors. I hope I get a chance to study under him.

a passion for tragedy

I should probably post the stories I did Friday before it gets too late. In the fast-paced world of breaking news, there's just never enough time for self-promotion. It was a polarized day: a dead body and a charity fund raiser.

I can't get over the excitement of this new internship. I'm working eight-hour shifts—plus school—and need to get up unearthly early, but I'm having a blast. The adrenaline high gets me through, particularly when my pager goes off and displays something to the tune of "MaricopaFD—Body found. Now CONFRIMRED dead. PD and FD to en route."

Friday was the first time I was dispatched to the scene. As soon as the call came in for the body, my editor, Aric, turned to me and said "you'd better get rolling." I hurried downstairs and just as I was getting into my truck, a call came in for an aircraft crash in Flagstaff.

I called Aric:
"Hey Aric. What was that?"
"We don't know yet. Just keep going to the body scene and I'll get Drew to work on whatever this is."
"Okay, I'll call you when I get there."
"Right, just see if anyone's talking yet and DON'T cross the police tape, remember?"
"Ha, right. I'll look for details and neighbors, then call you back."
"Okay; get going."

Exciting.

After a few hours, you start to get a sense of how many bad things happen in a city the size of Phoenix—fires, shootings, drowings, murder, plane crashes, etc. It seems a bit cold, but I really do find myself wishing bad things will happen, just to get the thrill of covering an epic story. I don't want people hurt, but the urgency is addictive.

Regardless, I don't cause these things; I make them into stories. It may seem callous to probe tragedy for information, but I think my job has the potential to give meaning to seemingly horrible events. By understanding and reporting on these events, I can turn them from a bad day into a day to be remembered. It's my job.