Media's poor use of a narrative

[Pete]

To the best of my knowledge my Dad's civilian newspaper career did not include writing about military subjects. One exception that I can think of was in about 1985 when he had a local news column in the Metro section of the Washington Post.

The night before he had stayed with his lady friend at her condo in Rosslyn, Virginia, which was adjacent to Fort Myer -- JoAnne's balcony had a view of the fence around the fort, and the horse stables from around the 1920s just inside of the fence. That night when "Taps" played over the post's loudspeaker system it wouldn't stop playing, and it played in a continuous loop all night long. About 8 or 9 AM the next morning it was finally turned off.

The next day Dad phoned Fort Myer to ask what had been going on; he was referred to someone else, who in turn told him to call someone else, and so on, until he was finally speaking to the deputy commander of Military District of Washington, a full colonel.

"I was wondering when you'd call," said the colonel dryly, as though someone from the Post was the last person he wanted to be speaking to. The colonel explained that the post Staff Duty Officer and Field Officer of the Day did not have the keys to the building that contained the control panel to the speaker system. Thus turning off Taps had to await the coming to work of the facilities engineers that morning. That's how Dad described the incident without any drama in his column.

[Pete]

One day during the Kennedy administration Dad was in the Library of Congress doing research in U.S. Census reports for a story he was writing for the Washington Post. He had columns of figures he needed to add together, so he walked over to a librarian behind her counter, a gray-haired elderly lady, and asked if he could borrow an adding machine. "We are not in the habit of lending business machines to gentlemen of the press," she replied frostily.

Dad went to the lobby of the building and on a pay phone called an acquaintance of his, Pierre Salinger, who was then JFK's press secretary. Dad described the problem and asked Salinger whether he could do anything about it. Dad returned to his table and resumed his census research.

About a half-hour later the gray-haired librarian walked over with an adding machine and set it on his table. She said, "Sir, you can use this while you're here. The President wants you to have it!"

[Pete]

There's a journalistic rule of thumb that may be helpful to people here when they write documents professionally -- avoid superlatives, such as "the first," "the last," "the largest," "the smallest," etc. When a newsman writes for an audience of hundreds or thousands someone out there will hit the books and prove you to have been wrong on the Letters to the Editor page. The work-around is to use qualifying language -- "said to have been," "believed to have been," "allegedly," and so forth. I realize these are the kinds of weasel words that drive combat arms officers up the wall when they're used by intel people, but appropropriate qualifiers can save the writer from making erroneous statements.

[Pete]

In 1962-63 my family was in the Los Angeles area because Dad was assigned there to be the Washington Post's guy setting up the new Post-Los Angeles Times news-sharing agreement, an arrangement which exists to this day.

In 1962 Richard Nixon ran for governor of California against "Pat" Brown," the incumbent and the father of the space cadet Jerry Brown. One day that fall Dad went to cover a Nixon campaign rally in an LA-area elementary school cafeteria. He arrived there at the same time Pat Nixon did, only to find that a solid mass of people separated her from her husband on the stage. Dad, a big guy, said, "Make way for Mrs. Nixon," and the crowd parted to let her join her husband on the stage.

"Thank you. I don't believe I've ever met you before," Pat Nixon said to my Dad, offering her hand and smiling radiantly. "Oh, I'm Jack Eisen of the Washington Post, Dad replied. As soon as she heard Post she withdrew her hand, her smile vanished, and she turned her back to join her husband. Later Brown won the election and Nixon gave his unfortunate, "You don't have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore" concession speech.

Oh well, so much for bipartisanship. Common courtesy is free, it doesn't cost anything. In the old days members of the U.S. Congress could denounce each other all day and still enjoy a bourbon and water together that evening.

[BayonetBrant]

In 1962-63 my family was in the Los Angeles area because Dad was assigned there to be the Washington Post's guy setting up the new Post-Los Angeles Times news-sharing agreement, an arrangement which exists to this day.

In 1962 Richard Nixon ran for governor of California against "Pat" Brown," the incumbent and the father of the space cadet Jerry Brown. One day that fall Dad went to cover a Nixon campaign rally in an LA-area elementary school cafeteria. He arrived there at the same time Pat Nixon did, only to find that a solid mass of people separated her from her husband on the stage. Dad, a big guy, said, "Make way for Mrs. Nixon," and the crowd parted to let her join her husband on the stage.

"Thank you. I don't believe I've ever met you before," Pat Nixon said to my Dad, offering her hand and smiling radiantly. "Oh, I'm Jack Eisen of the Washington Post, Dad replied. As soon as she heard Post she withdrew her hand, her smile vanished, and she turned her back to join her husband. Later Brown won the election and Nixon gave his unfortunate, "You don't have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore" concession speech.

Oh well, so much for bipartisanship. Common courtesy is free, it doesn't cost anything. In the old days members of the U.S. Congress could denounce each other all day and still enjoy a bourbon and water together that evening.

Wait! You mean they put water in the bourbon! Heresy!