The New York Times’ Timothy Egan wrote a column about Walmart that Walmart felt compelled to correct:

The New York Times’ Timothy Egan wrote a column about Walmart that Walmart felt compelled to correct:

Because I’ve been a little busy the past few days, I haven’t read The New Republic‘s 22 pages on Scott Walker.

Others have, including Ann Althouse:
I live in Wisconsin, and I’ve been following Scott Walker since the 2010 election here, and I have no idea what the “toxic strain of racial politics” refers to. But congratulations to TNR for its eye-catching and weird sexualization of Walker:“Scott Walker Is So Hot Right Now” and for having the nerve to sub-head with “too bad” as you smear him with the accusation of “toxic strain of racial politics.” That “too bad” belongs in the annals of self-refuting statements. Anyone can within one second perceive that The New Republic isn’t the slightest bit sad that there’s this dirt to throw at Walker… this invented dirt for all I can tell. …
I have now read the long article, and the closest thing to anything racial coming directly from Scott Walker is his support over the years for voter ID laws. Much of the article is about the demographics of Milwaukee and the suburban counties around it, including the history — going back into the early 20th century — of how black people migrated to the city and did not — as white people did — relocate into the suburbs.
Milwaukee is an extreme example of this historical pattern, but Scott Walker didn’t make this happen, and given that Scott Walker built his political career in the Milwaukee area, it’s actually impressive that TNR could not find racial incidents and slips to pin on him.
The article also focuses on 2 talk radio hosts — Mark Belling and Charlie Sykes — who have big audiences in Milwaukee. TNR has little direct racial material on them, but it forefronts the one truly ugly thing it has: Belling mocking a specific black person, Milwaukee Congresswoman Gwen Moore. Mostly, TNR accuses Belling and Sykes of indulging in dog-whistle politics about crime and dependence on welfare.
I suspect that Alec MacGillis wrote a more balanced and sane draft but that TNR editors punched it up, trying to make it racial so they could justify that ridiculous sub-heading on the cover and the title and sub-head at the article. The Unelectable Whiteness of Scott Walker! Terrible. MacGillis provides some material about Scott Walker’s early life, mostly about how he’s the son of a Baptist preacher who took religion and politics very seriously from an early age. Some of that is sympathetic, though it’s dotted with quotes from individuals who have reason to want to block Walker’s ascent.
The Power Line Blog adds:
This is completely insane. I have followed Walker’s career for a long time, and there is nothing in his record that can plausibly be given a racial tinge. What does TNR have on him? He supports voter ID legislation. That’s it. Of course, every Republican politician supports voter ID, as do a lot of Democratic pols. As for voters, I believe most polls show around 70% support. All of which is to say that the New Republic’s smear is pathetic, made up out of whole cloth.
What we see here is one more attempt to convince voters that it is “racist” to be a conservative. Governor Walker has turned a state deficit into a surplus, lowered taxes, reformed education, and returned power to the people rather than corrupt, coercive public sector unions. What on Earth is “racist” about that? Nothing, of course. People of all races benefit from clean, efficient government and lower taxes.
I often hear it said that people are intimidated because they are afraid of being called “racists.” Can this possibly be true? One wouldn’t think so. At least 99% of the time, the Democrats’ charges of “racism” relate to matters that have nothing whatever to do with race. That being the case, the Democrats’ claims should be met with scorn, derision, contempt, laughter. Their huffing and puffing about race is obviously a symptom of a party that is intellectually bankrupt and morally depraved. It is time to punch back twice as hard.
See, according to Democrats and liberals, if you criticize Barack Obama, you’re a racist. If you criticize Hillary Clinton, you’re sexist. If you criticize U.S. Rep. Gwen Moore (D-Milwaukee) or state Sen. Lena Taylor (D-Milwaukee), you’re a racist and sexist. If you criticize U.S. Sen. Tammy Baldwin (D-Wisconsin), you are a sexist homophobe.
What is really racist is asserting that Milwaukee minority families’ children should be stuck in the disaster area that is Milwaukee Public Schools without any better options. What is really racist is the belief that Milwaukee minority families don’t care, or shouldn’t care, about the rampant crime in inner-city Milwaukee. (Know who the most popular victim of black criminals is? Other blacks. The nine-year-old girl shot in a crossfire between two black men is, yes, black.) What is really racist is assuming that someone’s skin color should determine for which party they vote, particularly since the Democrats have done such a horrible job for minorities. (Check out the non-white unemployment rate.)
American Thinker concludes:
I think that what really scares the left is that Walker has gone after public employee unions and made membership optional, not mandatory, severely reducing the number of members in teachers unions and other mainstays of fundraising for the Democrats. And he has gotten results – improving quality of government services while lowering costs. If this spreads nationally, the Democrats are in trouble, because they rely on involuntarily-extracted finds from millions of union members.
In politics, you don’t attack someone you don’t consider to be a threat.
Gregory Rodriguez of something called Zocalo Public Square:
Newspapers are in trouble. Not just because of the Internet and advertising and subscriptions. But because, according to a recent Pew Research Center poll, only 28 percent of Americans think that journalists contribute a lot to society’s well being.
That’s pretty bad considering that journalists like to think of themselves as guardians of democracy. In other business enterprises, such public disdain would be a cause for alarm. But newspapers are different. Criticize journalistic professionalism, and you’re likely to hear a thing or two about the importance of the First Amendment, or my favorite catch-all self-justification: If people are unhappy with us, “we must be doing something right!” Really? Is that the only reason people might be unhappy with you?
Like most Americans, I understand the need for journalists as watchdogs. But the unquestioned primacy of its watchdog duties has given serious journalism an air of self-righteous adolescent rebelliousness and sanctimony.
Veteran journalist James Fallows has written about this phenomenon in more polite terms. By falling “into the habit of portraying public life in America as a race to the bottom,” he wrote in his 1996 book Breaking the News: How the Media Undermine American Democracy, journalists foster greater public cynicism, which, ironically, hurts the business of journalism. “If people thought there was no point even in hearing about public affairs — because the politicians were all crooks, because the outcome is always rigged, because ordinary people stood no chance, because everyone in power was looking out for himself — then newspapers and broadcast news operations might as well close up shop. … If people have no interest in politics or public life, they have no reason to follow the news.”
If the press is to uphold its self-proclaimed duty to protect our system of governance, it has to envision itself as being more than an elite defender of the public interest removed from the social fabric. Instead, journalism should fully embrace a more affirmative — and dare I say grown-up — role as the very connector of that fabric, the web of communication that defines the contours of our diverse society. …
Covering the news isn’t the same thing as making a concerted effort to give voice to our nation’s people and places. Too few Americans see themselves in daily journalism today. And if hiring statistics are any indication, professional journalism may not even care whether it reflects the nation. Despite the major demographic shift in our country over the past generation, the percentage of overall newspaper staffers and supervisors who are non-white has remained unchanged since 1994.
And opportunities for non-journalists to contribute to newspapers are meager. The op-ed pages of major newspapers have long since been given away to professional opinion makers, interest groups and the powerful.
American journalism needs to discover new ways to bring regular people into the conversation. I’m not talking about more cheap social media tricks that ask people whether they agree with a court decision or what they plan to do over the long weekend. I’m referring to ongoing efforts to bring real people’s stories — with their conflicts of interest, their messiness, their refusal to be categorized in partisan terms — directly to the public.
The loss of thousands of journalism jobs in recent years has made journalists even more self-obsessed. This concern about the survival of their careers and their outlets is understandable but counterproductive. Journalists don’t look very useful when Americans constantly see them talking among themselves about themselves.
I could demolish much of this merely by posting this comment from Rodriguez’s piece:
“American journalism needs to discover new ways to bring regular people into the conversation.”
This is typical of the arrogance of big daily newspapers. Small weeklies, like the paper I run, have been a part of the community for more than 100 years. Our community is part of the paper. Our page 1 lead photo is more often than not submitted by someone in the community. About half our paper, or more, is items written by members of the community. In the past 20 years, my community has lost about 2,000 people (net decline of population) and my subscriber base has grown.
My community writes and takes the pictures I run. I just put it print for them.
That’s not how I usually do things where I’ve worked, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t and, if appropriate, wouldn’t do that. For one thing, advances in technology mean that someone can take a photo with a cellphone that is perfectly usable for newsprint. For another, try as I might, I cannot be in more than one place at a time.
Fallows was wrong, and therefore Rodriguez is wrong, as well about journalists fostering greater public cynicism. If anything, reporters aren’t skeptical enough about what government does at every level, including your local city council and school board. (Take away the D and the R, and you’ll discover that politicians can be as craven or as thoughtless at the local level as they are at the state and national level, even politicians who make a pittance to serve on the city council.) Wonder why incumbents have a reelection rate of almost 100 percent? It’s because the media gives them free, and generally uncritical, publicity every time there’s a city council or school board meeting. The bar for a challenger of an incumbent to overcome that free publicity is very close to the ceiling.
Cynicism is an important aspect of the job of a journalist. People lie to journalists, or at least tell them something less than the complete truth, with depressing regularity. I was once told by the girlfriend of someone who was arrested that her boyfriend wasn’t going to be charged with anything in connection to his arrest. Before that, a grandfather whose sons set a house fire that killed his three grandsons and unborn granddaughter said that no, his sons didn’t do that. (His sons were sentenced to one life term per dead child.) The news of the following week disproved her assertion. How anyone can believe Hillary Clinton’s latest claim that she and Slick Willie had problems making ends meet after they left the White House in 2001 is beyond me. Indeed, watching some legislative bodies at work — full of people put there by the voters, of course — should make journalists swear off democracy forever. And journalists start the day in a sour mood because of the combination of traditionally low pay, long and irregular hours, and work environments that never win any Best Places to Work contest.
As for the rest of Rodriguez’s opinion, I suspect there are a lot of daily newspaper reporters who look down their noses at those who work for weeklies … at least until they become the victim of job cuts themselves. It is the height of arrogance to assert that quality journalism only takes place at The New York Times, or the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel (for whose parent company I used to work until one of those job cut things), or the Wisconsin State Journal (which has resolutely refused to hire me despite my literally lifelong readership).
Weekly newspapers, such as the perpetually award-winning Ripon Commonwealth Press and The Platteville Journal, cover their areas in far better detail than any daily newspaper could. People buy weeklies to find out what is going on in their area, not what is going on nationally or internationally, except to the extent national or international trends affect where they live. (A quarter century ago I commented that people where I was then living seemed to have a better grasp on what was important than where I came from, the People’s Republic of Madison, to which the husband of one of our employees said, “Yeah, never mind Nicaragua — where’s my sweet corn?”)
Being a good reporter requires, first, curiosity about people. I have written more stories than I can count about business owners. I want to find out two things — why they do what they do, and how they do it — how they make a product, how they provide a service, what is it they do that makes their product or service stand out. What could be better, after all, for a reporter than to write about interesting people doing interesting things? This is far from original or brilliant insight, but it apparently isn’t taught to that many reporters, since I often don’t see it where readers should see it.
That part about being “the very connector of that fabric” is a point Rodriguez doesn’t really explain, which makes me wonder whether he even knows what he’s asserting. So I will: It means not merely getting off your chair and out of the office to talk to non-politicians and non-public officials. It means getting involved in the daily activities of life. If you have kids, you become quite interested in their schools, even though you should be interested in your schools anyway as a taxpayer. Showing up at your kids’ activities as a parent — even if you’re multitasking — might convince your readers you don’t have fangs and bite. (Well, most of the time in my case.)
I worked in a daily newspaper newsroom in the early 1990s, as one of four reporters (in addition to a sports reporter). The number of married reporters in that office totaled zero. The number of reporters with children in that office totaled zero. The number of homeowners among the reporting staff totaled zero. The number of regular churchgoers among the reporting staff probably totaled zero. You can’t cover your community without, to use a cliché, skin in the game beyond a regular paycheck.
That, of course, is advice that late-1980s Steve would have ignored. Late-’80s Steve worked and lived in a community where, it’s safe to say, the number of people like me — college-educated and unattached — could be counted with, at most, two hands, out of a community of more than 4,000. (I dated two of them. Didn’t work out.) Some would also argue that entanglements prevent reporters from being impartial and unbiased. Impartiality is dangerously close to apathy, and eliminating bias is probably impossible among human beings, but being fair is not.
The other point that needs making, and the point journalists seem to need to be reminded of, is that the First Amendment doesn’t apply only to journalists. The First Amendment applies to all Americans, including those critical of the news media, and those trying to replace the existing news media with what they think is better. Journalists ignore their audience at the peril of their own employment.
Harry Caray died in 1998, but he can still make news today.

Caray announced for 25 years for the Cardinals before he was fired by owner Gussie Busch. I have heard, from people who were in a position to know, more than one version as to what specifically got Caray fired, though the general detail is consistent, as reported by Chicago Sports Memories:
After the 1969 season, his 25th with the Cardinals, Caray was abruptly fired. “I expected a gold watch,” he later joked, “but what I got was a pink slip.” It was a devastating blow, but not a complete surprise in light of allegations that he had become amorously involved with the attractive young wife of an Anheuser-Busch executive. Caray never denied it. “I’d rather have people believing the rumor and have my middle-aged ego inflated,” he said, “than deny it and keep my job.”
The other version, by the way, was that he “had become amorously involved” with the girlfriend of a very, very, very senior “Anheuser–Bush executive.”
After one season in Oakland, Caray moved to Chicago to announce for the White Sox.
But most baseball fans know Caray from his years announcing the Cubs.
After the Cubs improbably won the 1984 National League East title, Caray said in the Cubs’ locker room …
According to this Chicago Sun–Times story, Caray usually got his wish, even keeping records:
Grant DePorter, CEO of the Harry Caray’s chain of eateries, inherited the diary, one of eight, all from the ’70s and early ’80s, in four boxes of memorabilia, World Series tickets and cashed checks, that the executor of Caray’s estate found when he cleaned out his office.
Knowing my interest in all things historical, DePorter asked if I wanted to take a peek at one, and I swung by Harry’s and walked away with 1972.
I should say right away that this is not a Dear Kitty, pour-out-your-heart, frank-assessment-of-my-friends kind of diary. Old Harry was not big on introspection, as he was the first to admit.
“I’m a convivial sort of guy. I like to drink and dance,” he told an interviewer once.
Caray was the Cardinals’ color broadcaster for many years in St. Louis. Driven out of town in 1969, he migrated to Chicago, via a misfire year in Oakland, to announce first for the hapless White Sox, finishing his career in a golden twilight glow with the Cubs.
In 1972, he had just begun his tenure with the Sox. A savvy businessman, Caray cut a deal pegged to ballpark attendance, which doubled, largely thanks to his flamboyant presence. It would make him very wealthy, though in 1972 he was still tallying each bar tab.
“Remember, you used to be able to deduct a three-martini lunch,” DePorter said.
Saturday, Jan. 1, lists four bars: the Back Room, still on Rush Street, plus three long-ago joints: 20 E. Delaware, Sully’s and Peppy’s, with expenses for each $10.30, $9.97, $10, and $8.95. This in a year when a six-pack of Old Style set you back $1.29.
You needed to cite who you entertained to get the write-off, so on New Year’s Day he lists Dave Condon, the Tribune sports columnist; Billy Sullivan, who owned Sully’s; and Joe Pepitone, the former Yankees first baseman who had been traded to the Cubs.
And so it begins. A chain of old-time Chicago bars — Riccardo’s, Boul Mich, Mr. Kelly’s. A posse of early 1970s sports figures — Wilt Chamberlain, Don Drysdale, Gale Sayers. Plus a few unexpected blasts from the past: boxer Jack Dempsey, comedian Jack Benny.
“These guys did nothing but go out and have a few cocktails,” said Jimmy Rittenberg, who owned Faces, which Caray visited 14 times in 1972. “I don’t know how they did it. They were 20, 30 years older than me and I couldn’t keep up with them.”
Jan. 16 something unusual happens. Caray is in Miami, yet there are no expenses, just one enigmatic word, “Super.”
After that break, if indeed it was, comes 288 consecutive days in bars, not only in Chicago, but New York City, and of course on the road with the Sox, beginning with spring training in Sarasota.
The unbroken streak pauses Nov. 3, when all we get is “to K City @310.” The only completely blank day is Monday, Nov. 6 — what must THAT have been like? Then off to the races again.
Clay Felker, founder of New York magazine. Caray’s former boss, A’s owner Charlie Finley. A few surprises: Sox owner John Allyn. Several times. That surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. All I knew about their relationship was that Allyn fired Caray, and Caray replied with this timeless retort:
“I can’t believe any man can own a ballclub and be as dumb as John Allyn. Did he make enough to own it, or did he inherit it? He’s a stupid man. This game is much too complicated for a man like John Allyn.”
But that was 1975, the epic year when White Sox players complained they did so poorly because of Caray’s critical broadcast booth assessments, drawing my favorite Caray line: “Hey, you can’t ballyhoo a funeral.”
So what was it like to stand in the Pump Room (16 visits in 1972) and hoist a few with Caray?
“I was out with Harry Caray a couple of times,” the Tribune’s Rick Kogan said. “It was always at the Pump Room. He was one of the most charming people in the world.”
How so?
“Drunk but joyful,” Kogan said. “It always wound up being a joyful, laughter-filled time.”
Caray was always surrounded by friends like TV sportscaster Tim Weigel.
“He really liked Tim Weigel,” Kogan said. “I was an audience, at best, with those two characters around. They had incredible mutual affection. There was no better place to share that mutual affection than over way too many cocktails.”
I assumed that White Sox broadcasters today do not hang out in bars every night fraternizing with ballplayers and other assorted celebrities. But, not liking to assume things, I phoned the Sox and asked whether current announcers Steve Stone, who shared a mike with Caray, or Ken Harrelson, burned the midnight oil.
They declined to comment.
That kinda says it all, huh?
Toward the end of the diary, on Dec. 24, comes the kicker. After spending at least 354 of the previous 357 days in bars (DePorter counted 61 different tap houses) Caray writes, in a bold hand, “Vacation in Acapulco. Then “Vacation” every day until the year runs out.
Which makes me wonder how he knew he was on vacation. I guess if nobody was playing baseball in front of him and when he looked over the rim of his drink he saw Mexico, then he knew he was on vacation.
But give Caray credit. As old-fashioned, and perhaps even pathological, as the bar-crawling seems today, there is another truth worth mentioning: Harry Caray could have taken his drinks at home. He went out because it was his job.
“He felt the bartender and bar people were his fans,” Rittenberg said. “He felt he was responsible He would stop in 10 joints. He was just a gregarious guy.”
Bleacher Report adds:
Jimmy Rittenberg, former proprietor of Faces—a bar Caray visited 14 times over the course of 1972—says Caray and his drinking buddies could outlast men 30 years their junior at the bar.
“These guys did nothing but go out and have a few cocktails,” Rittenberg said. “I don’t know how they did it. They were 20, 30 years older than me and I couldn’t keep up with them.”
Well, this being Wisconsin, it is hardly our place to criticize one’s drinking habits as long as one can hold one’s liquor. As far as I know, Caray was never arrested for drunk driving, and Caray was well known for drinking, not for incidents resulting from said drinking.
After Caray died, his son, Braves announcer Skip Caray, told the story of Harry, his then-broadcast partner Jack Buck, and young Skip going out the night before a Cardinals spring training game. The next day’s game against the White Sox included a catcher (who later ended up with the Brewers) named Gerry McNertney, whose last name proved difficult to announce for the presumably hung-over older Caray and Buck. “McNertney” proved so difficult, in fact, that the two decided to replace him before his third at-bat, despite the fact that McNertney was still playing. Radio is theater of the mind, after all.
(I might as well point out here that I have never broadcast while inebriated, though I have occasionally had a beer or two before games, and I have never imbibed during games. There is no opportunity to do so in high school and college games, unless you figure out a way to sneak in a bottle. I assume that announcing while impaired in today’s society is a good way to make that game your last game as an announcer.)
Skip Caray was known to hoist a few, too, or at least make drinking references. More than once, he said, “The bases are loaded, and I wish I was too,” sometimes replacing himself with the manager having to deal with the bases-loaded mess. Caray would also, until Braves owner Ted Turner made him stop, announce the bottom of the fifth inning by saying, “We’ve come to the bottom of another fifth.” Unlike his father, however, Skip’s health — according to one account, diabetes, congestive heart failure, an irregular heartbeat and reduced kidney and liver function — made him stop drinking, though after Harry missed a few games after becoming overcome during a game in Florida he reportedly switched to nonalcoholic beer.
Skip Caray died at 68. His father, Harry, was reportedly 83 when he died. Skip claimed Harry reduced his age every time he got a new employer, which, whether true or not, certainly adds to the aura, doesn’t it?
ABC-TV broadcasted the Indianapolis 500 race for the 50th year Sunday.
I’m not a big race fan, but the Indy 500 was one of the few races I always tried to watch each year, at least until high school commencements on Sunday afternoons intervened. Somewhere there is a photo of me in a race car in the Indianapolis Motor Speedway museum, and on my one and only UW Marching Band bowl game our buses took a lap on the track. Indy is not considered a very steep track, but even an 11-degree banking is noticeable, particularly in a bus.
The race also was the final time Jim Nabors started the race by singing “Back Home Again in Indiana.” (Nabors’ singing voice is nothing like his “Gomer Pyle” voice. Surprise, surprise, surprise.)
Nabors told a hilarious story about how he started singing the song:
People tend to forget Nabors was actually born in Alabama. He moved to California when he started out in show business, and was performing in Lake Tahoe one day for an audience that included Bill Harrah. The casino magnate happened to be a car aficionado, and he invited Nabors to attend the Indy 500 for the first time.
Nabors was supposed to be there as a fan, but [track owner] Tony Hulman had also seen Nabors perform in Lake Tahoe, and the speedway’s owner asked if he would sing along with the Purdue marching band prior to the race. With that, Nabors picks up the story:
”So to the conductor of the Purdue band, I said, ‘What key do you do this in?’ And he looked at me funny and said, ‘We only have one key.’ I said, ‘No, the ”Star-Spangled Banner” has two keys.’ And he said, ‘You’re not singing that!’ And I said, ‘Well, what the hell am I singing?’ It was only five minutes to race time, too, and there’s 500,000 people here,” Nabors said.
”He says, ‘It’s the traditional song that opens the race, ”Back Home Again in Indiana.”’ I kind of looked at him and go, ‘I’m from Alabama!’ And he started laughing and asked if I knew it. And I said, ‘Well, I know the melody but I don’t know all the lyrics.’ So I’m writing them on my hand. The first time I ever sang it, I wrote it on my hand.”
Racing — animal or vehicular — is one of the events I’ve never had the opportunity to announce. It must be an enormous challenge to announce given that fans have a hard time determining who’s in first place except for the scoreboard since the lead participants often end up lapping slower participants.
There is one more challenge specific to auto racing, though it’s something that could happen in other sporting events. No sports broadcasting program I’m aware of trains you how to cover death during a sporting event.
I have had a couple of instances where games I was announcing were stopped because of player injuries that were serious enough to require ambulance trips for the participants. All three of the games were tape-delayed, so we’d watch for a few minutes and then turn off the camera until play resumed.
One year before ABC started covering the 500, in 1964, drivers Dave MacDonald and Eddie Sachs were killed on the race’s second lap.
The YouTube video merges newsreel footage with the live radio coverage of the event. Radio race coverage is interesting to observe. For races on big tracks such as Indianapolis or the Daytona 500, there are one or two main announcers, and additional announcers in each of the turns. The announcers describe what — more accurately who — is going past them.
Nine years after the 1964 500, ABC’s broadcast of the 1973 500 demonstrated the unpredictability of live sports, even though ABC’s broadcast wasn’t live. In those days ABC tape-delayed the 500 to the evening after the race, which has been run on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend (weather permitting) since 1975. In 1973, the race was still on Memorial Day … or it was supposed to be on Memorial Day.
Those who believe in omens would have been disturbed two weeks before the race was to be held, when driver Art Pollard crashed in qualifying and was killed. But drivers and hardcore race fans have always accepted death as part of what can happen in racing. (I have a high school classmate who was killed in a race car crash in 1997. Ten years before that, I was an intern at WKOW-TV in Madison, sitting in the newsroom watching the 1987 500 when the Associated Press reported the death of a spectator from Wisconsin. A wheel came off of one of the cars, another car hit the wheel — as it happened, during a commercial, as I discovered in trying to find the incident — and launched the wheel and tire the air and hit the spectator, who was sitting in the top row of the grandstand, in the head, killing him instantly.)
ABC’s main announcer was Jim McKay, one of the most versatile announcers in the history of TV sports. There had not been a death during the 500 since McDonald’s and Sachs’ deaths, though there had been deaths during practice or qualifying. (Including, in 1968, a driver who had been added to a team to replace legendary racer Jim Clark, who had died in a race crash one month earlier.) McKay’s on-the-job training for what he’d have to announce was the previous September, when, while covering the 1972 Munich Olympics, he had to announce the kidnapping and then murder of 11 Israeli athletes.
The 1973 500 turned out to be both the shortest (just 133 of 200 laps) and longest (over three days) race in Indy history. The race began three hours late due to rain. That would have made things a little exciting in ABC’s production facilities with the amount of time for pre-broadcast production shrinking dramatically. However …
… ABC carried none of the race Memorial Day. The 11-car crash seven seconds into the race, in which fuel sprayed into the crowd, severely injured driver David “Salt” Walther and at least two spectators. By the time track repairs and cleanup were under way, the rains resumed. and race officials postponed the race until Tuesday, even though ABC said it wouldn’t carry the race Tuesday.
(Having announced a three-day-long baseball game last year, I can relate. For that matter, 25 years ago I was supposed to provide reports from a softball sectional in the same town as a baseball sectional involving the same high school. Thanks to two days of rain not dried out by the third day, I covered exactly none of it, because by the time the games were actually played, I had to be at the state track meet.)
The action Tuesday was off the track, because the rain returned before the race was to restart. ABC reported on a heated meeting between race officials and drivers during which a driver told race officials that if the start wasn’t improved, “you’re going to get us all killed out there.” The problem was a too-slow start (which bunched up the field) combined with drivers’ not staying where they were supposed to stay before the race started, as was pointed out by driver Jackie Stewart, ABC’s analyst.
Stewart had to be back in Europe for a race, so he wasn’t there for the final start. Nor were many of the race team crew, since many had to return to their actual jobs. Nor were most of the fans, for the same reason.
What sportswriters were now calling “the 72 Hours of Indianapolis” got started for good Wednesday. The race got as far as 57 laps until …
… driver David “Swede” Savage crashed and was trapped inside his burning car. A crew member of one of Savage’s teammates started running on pit row toward the crash, was hit by a fire truck responding to the crash, and was killed. Savage survived the crash, but died a month later of complications. His wife was pregnant with their second daughter.
ABC carried the 72 Hours of Indianapolis the night the race finally ended.
One of the unpleasant truths of wars and disasters is that they represent learning opportunities. (Much of current emergency medical practice is based on what was learned in the Korean and Vietnam wars.) Fatal crashes in prominent races usually result in safety improvements. Indy cars were slowed down until chassis and safety technology caught up with engine technology. Emergency equipment was required to be driven the same direction as race cars down pit row. The track was also improved by removing the wall Savage hit and the seats where spectators were burned in Walther’s crash.
For instance, drivers now wear neck protection to avoid the kind of injury that killed racer Dale Earnhardt at Daytona in 2001:
The fact, however, is that the only way to eliminate deaths from racing is to eliminate racing. If a crash in which a car going 60 mph hits something can kill the car’s occupants, a crash at triple-digit speeds will be more lethal. Which doesn’t stop drivers from racing.
On Friday shortly after 8 a.m., I will be on Wisconsin Public Radio for the Joy Cardin Show Week in Review.
I seem to have this thing now where I am on WPR either just before or just after a holiday. This could be my latest post-holiday appearance, or my latest pre-holiday appearance.
As you know, Wisconsin Public Radio’s Ideas Network can be heard on WHA (970 AM) in Madison, WLBL (930 AM) in Auburndale, WHID (88.1 FM) in Green Bay, WHWC (88.3 FM) in Menomonie, WRFW (88.7 FM) in River Falls, WEPS (88.9 FM) in Elgin, Ill., WHAA (89.1 FM) in Adams, WHBM (90.3 FM) in Park Falls, WHLA (90.3 FM) in La Crosse, WRST (90.3 FM) in Oshkosh, WHAD (90.7 FM) in Delafield, W215AQ (90.9 FM) in Middleton, KUWS (91.3 FM) in Superior, WHHI (91.3 FM) in Highland, WSHS (91.7 FM) in Sheboygan, WHDI (91.9 FM) in Sister Bay, WLBL (91.9 FM) in Wausau, W275AF (102.9 FM) in Ashland, W300BM (107.9 FM) in Madison, and of course online at www.wpr.org.
Seemingly each year, the reporters and the editorial writers at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel believe the shooting of a young child, the needless murder of a homeless man, or a large turnout at a candlelight vigil, is the so-called tipping-point on crime. In this scenario, the residents of Milwaukee’s central city or the “hood,” as the area was recently dubbed by the Journal Sentinel, awake from their Rip Van Winkle-type slumber to forge a new reality — that the conduct of the criminal element will no longer be tolerated.
And, each year, it takes all of two weeks to debunk the Journal Sentinel’s theory, as bodies, sadly, begin filling the freezers of Milwaukee County Medical Examiner’s office.
Instead of looking to Chief Flynn and his overpriced east coast consultants for answers, the proponents of the futile Rip Van Winkle theory on Milwaukee’s inner-city violence could find solutions at Amazon.com for $10.67, a price substantially more affordable than Chief Flynn’s cabal of advisors.
In February, retired Milwaukee Police Department (MPD) Captain Glenn Frankovis released a new book, Area Saturation Patrol: A Policing Strategy That Works, which spotlights the successful strategy used to suppress crime in MPD Districts Two, Three and Five.
At the request of Glenn’s publisher, I penned the following:
“During the summer of 2001, Milwaukee’s Metcalfe Park neighborhood was a virtual war zone. Fox News 6 reporter Mara MacDonald’s investigation dubbed this troubled area a killing field. In an effort to prevent more bloodshed, Police Chief Arthur Jones called on Captain Glenn Frankovis.
“Glenn had previously served as the Commanding Officer at District Five, where he implemented an Area Saturation Patrol (ASP) strategy that worked wonders. In 2002, overall major crime in District Five declined 8.1 percent, shootings plummeted 42.8 percent, and the number of homicides decreased 48.6 percent. Within 18 months, the near north side policing sectors under Frankovis’ command had witnessed the largest one-year decline in per capita homicides in urban America.
“But could the man with the plan, and his hard-charging foot soldiers, put a lid on the on violence in Milwaukee’s killing field? After all, Metcalfe Park was surrounded by other neighborhoods teetering on the brink. Instead of making excuses, requesting a huge influx of new officers, or whining about budgets, Glenn Frankovis met the challenge head-on. In his first full-year at District Three, the commander’s ASP strategy and no-nonsense policing style resulted in 15.5 percent reduction in violent crime, including a 21.7 percent reduction in robberies.”
With such a track record of success, one would think the editorial writers at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, the staffs of local television news outlets, and the political-class at city hall, might take notice of Frankovis’ crime fighting strategy. But alas, the sound of crickets and excuse making are the only concepts being promulgated by the proponents of the Rip Van Winkle theory.
So, each year, as you read the articles in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel regarding the very tragic loss of human life, consider the source. Then, take notice that the newspaper’s editorial board and city leaders seem more concerned with political correctness than fighting crime. And, as time passes, the public can count on one thing: that editorial board and political pontificators will continue to put their collective heads in the sand while waiting—for eternity—for the elusive inner-city Rip Van Winkle to be jostled from his slumber.
… Memorial Day weekend, or veterans/war dead/family dead/unofficial start of summer weekend.
But it’s also high school commencement weekend in most of Wisconsin.
I’ve written about all of these (the latter earlier this week), so feel free to peruse all of these.
I wrote earlier this month on the ham-handed efforts of Fond du Lac High School administration to censor the high school’s magazine, Cardinal Columns, for largely spurious reasons.
My blog mentioned one of my more fun stories to do, about a high school’s underground newspaper. One of that underground newspaper’s staff was Ben Bromley, who now writes:
The good thing about censorship of student publications – the ONLY good thing – is that it’s an educational exercise.
Students learn so much in fighting for their First Amendment rights. They learn the extent of their resolve. They learn that the ideals of the Bill of Rights extolled in the classroom aren’t so revered by school administrators intent on protecting their fiefdoms. …
The struggle of the Cardinal Columns staff calls to mind my own nearly a quarter-century ago in Lancaster. In May of my senior year, I was working with my co-conspirators to plan the final edition of our underground student newspaper. We were coming off our swimsuit issue, which featured the heads of students and staff grafted – using scissors and glue — onto models’ bodies. Remember, this was 1991, when nobody had Photoshop and Madonna didn’t have a British accent.
Our paper wasn’t as hard-hitting as the Cardinal Columns – instead of investigative articles about rape and expulsion, we featured fictitious faculty profiles and a tongue-in-cheek advice column. It wasn’t the New York Times. Or even the Country Valley Weekly Dime Saver.
But we clashed with school leadership nonetheless. Our first issue criticized the quality of the sanctioned student newspaper and the faculty’s oversight of it, a stance that earned me a trip to the principal’s office and got my paper kicked off campus. An article about the junior varsity football team getting into a fight after a blowout loss got me dragged into the hallway for a dressing-down by the coach. I kept extra pairs of underwear in my locker that year.
On the plus side, being renegades meant we didn’t have to operate through official channels. School administrators could block us from distributing our paper on school grounds, but couldn’t stop us from publishing. We spent most of the year handing out our paper across the street before school, even on bitter mornings. It was the first of many warnings about how cold journalism is, all of which went ignored. Here I am, a generation later, still writing screeds in protest of censorship.
Censorship of the Cardinal Columns prompted Fond du Lac High students to organize a protest, a sit-in that was short-circuited when students were threatened with citations for truancy or loitering. About 10 moved their protest across the street. Others were herded into the school theater, where the principal listened to their concerns and answered questions. Here’s another key lesson: Our freedom to express ourselves and assemble peaceably is celebrated down the hall in civics, but disregarded when it becomes uncomfortable for school leaders.
What are Fond du Lac’s students learning from their educators? That the First Amendment should be observed only when it’s convenient for those in authority. That journalism shouldn’t challenge the powerful. That administrators care less about students’ rights to self-expression than they do about protecting their fiefdoms from threats real or imagined.
One of Bromley’s co-conspirators apparently is now a principal in Illinois. (Oh, the irony …) He wrote on Facebook about how he has in the past asked students to read their notes because quotes in stories were placed out of context, or pulled graphics because they violated school alcohol and drug policies, and spoken to students about “the quality and content of their work.”
That is not inappropriate. As was pointed out in a Facebook response to my original blog, school administration takes the role of publisher of an official school publication. More importantly, student journalists do need adult supervision, because any of them who (foolishly decide to) become journalists will have editors and publishers above them, so they might as well get used to having their work scrutinized. The educational process includes educating student journalists.
Unfortunately, most school administrators have had no journalism training at all, and you can look to the Cardinal Columns controversy for the logical result. And in the era of the Internet, administration heavy-handedness encourages going online, or to social media, off official channels and away from adult supervision.
The other, and presumably unintended, consequence of this was that this ended up in the media anyway. The Fond du Lac school administration’s efforts to keep the controversy out of the prying media’s eyes failed. Bromley’s principal’s efforts to get the underground newspaper off campus ended up getting it in the city’s newspaper, whose circulation was 10 times the student newspaper’s circulation.
(Irrelevant aside: I believe I played, if that’s what you want to call it, softball with Bromley’s father on the newspaper’s late softball team.)