Down the Road
The real scoop in the newsroom
By Milt Gross
Aug 10, 2010 - 12:13:16 AM

I once turned down a job at the Portland Press Herald after touring the news floor with the manager.

"Thanks, but I can't work here," I said.

"Why?" he asked.

"It's too quiet," I replied.

A good newsroom involved noise, reporters talking loudly on the phone and to each other, reporters arguing with editors, in the bad-old-days typewriters clacking away, and phones ringing -- all pleasant background sound which helped me write my tales of news or non.

Liz and I would disagree a lot. I forget about what. I just remember how we settled it. We would go down into the office basement and holler and swear at each other until we either resolved the difference or just felt better for letting it all out loudly. Then we'd go back upstairs and smile pleasantly to everyone.

Argue or not, Liz made sure I got lots of work covering news of all kinds, from the sweet, gooey photos of school stuff to murders and court procedures.

It was the news editor, who finally put it all together.

My first news editor was George Pulkkinen, the manager at the first paper at which I worked. He always made me make that last phone call, and he wouldn't accept a story unless it was written right. That made him a tough boss.

George was also a great boss, because he taught me well.

He also saw to it that stories I wrote and stories others wrote that I shortened into blurbs went down to the Portland Press Herald to be used on their news bullet page, brief stories from here and there. And, because of George, a photo I took of a major fire went to a nationwide news wire service.

The editor under George, who took over when he left after an argument with the publisher -- the way most of us eventually left -- was Betsy. Betsy too was tough and knew what she was doing. Her biggest impediment was her voice. Something was wrong with her throat, so she couldn't holler at you as a "normal" editor did so well.

Instead of hollering, Betsy drew pictures. I don't remember why she was mad at me that day. What I do remember is her walking past my desk and dropping a piece of paper on it. It contained a sketch, a woman holding a knife in her upraised hand chasing a man. I wasn't a rocket scientist, but I surmised quickly enough that she was upset with me.

It may have been better than hollering. When Betsy was out of sight, I started chuckling.

Sometimes those in charge didn't do things quite right. George had taught me that news was news and sensationalizing was not news. Sensationalizing was a way to liven up the piece so people would buy the paper. The publisher of one paper wanted me to liven a story up by sensationalizing a superior court trial of a teacher charged with child molestation. I refused and wrote the story as it actually happened. I was a believer in one's being innocent until found guilty.

The court found the teacher not-guilty, and after I wrote that story the defendant's lawyer phoned me to thank me for doing a straightforward job with the story. He also offered me free legal service should I ever need it. I never needed it while I was there. When I have needed it since, it was after I moved to the Bar Harbor area, where that lawyer wasn't available to me.

It pays to do things right. It just doesn't always pay me.

In my and other reporters' opinions, the managing editor at one weekly knew very little about managing editing or about newspapers in general. I would phone this editor from home, where I did much of my writing, on press day to see how much space remained for the stories which I was still writing.

"Just send it all in," this managing editor would say.

So, I'd hang up and call again to reach the assistant managing editor, a retired veteran news guy from New York. He would respond to my question, "Five inches."

I'd thank him, write my five inches and send it in.

Which gave me more time to drive to the paper, collect my paycheck, and go out to breakfast.

The editors at the Lewiston Sun Journal for which I wrote for about five years also knew what they were doing. They would assign worthwhile stories and edit them quickly and accurately. I recall on several occasions sending a heavy story to the Lewiston office and then driving the rolls of film there myself to be developed for the story.

Yes, Virginia, there was such a thing as photography before digital cameras came along.*

This editor would put my story on his screen and go down through it so fast I could hardly keep up with him by watching over his shoulder.

I still don't know how he did that.

I was an editor for a year or so at a weekly. I never drew sketches of anyone chasing anyone with a knife, and I never hollered. I somehow thought being a boss would work better without those tools of the trade. I never had problems with reporters except for having to fire one who insisted on dribbling cigarette ashes on his computer and taking too many breaks to go outside and smoke. I also had to let a stringer go-- those who are paid by the news-column inch instead of being an actual employee -- for not only writing terrible copy but for refusing any help in improving it. (Magazines often pay by the number of words you write.)

Luckily I kept all copy on my computer, because the stringer complained to the Maine Human Rights Commission, and I and the manager had to go to that board with lots of copies of the stringer's "before" and "after" work, before being as she turned it in and after being after I beat it into some kind of useable shape. She charged me with discriminating against a woman. I only discriminated against lousy writing, and the commission found for me.

I still discriminate against lousy writing, sometimes my own.

After being editor of this weekly for a year or so, the publisher told me I wasn't covering the 20-some towns we wrote about thoroughly enough. That was difficult, since at the time only one reporter worked for me. Half of my editing, that meant, was of my own stuff.

One editor of a weekly told us we should be more quiet in the newsroom.

"Did you want us to produce news?" a braver fellow reporter than I asked the editor.

He explained that it's hard to gather news on the phone without talking, and talking is noise.

I don't recall the editor's response.

I also don't recall us being any more quiet than we had been.

I gathered news in my later news writing days often by e-mail. I like it because it isn't so noisy -- wrong, a blatant fib. I learned to tolerate noise and, in fact, noise became sort of a comforting background to my writing. A quiet world is a scary world, when you're writing news.

The real reason I like gathering news via e-mail is that the one you're "interviewing" can't later deny having said that...whatever that may have been. If he wrote it, I can always send it back to him to show him.

Writing news for me was a great education. I learned to bang out so many stories a day or week, no matter what. I've had writing students tell me they were waiting for inspiration before writing.

Inspiration doesn't produce copy. Writing does. I've always found that deadlines help, that the best way to write is to sit down and write.

And all those editors, good and not so good? And those noisy newsrooms?

Now that I'm retired, they form fond memories of the career which I spent a fair number of years pursuing. But there is one thing I'll say about editors, good or bad, newsrooms noisy or quiet, gathering news for a deadline, and all the rest.

I'm happy to be retired. I wouldn't want to do it all again.

Writing this is so much more relaxing. And writing this is not news gathering at all. It is more like woolgathering, much occurring while I'm walking in the woods, working in the garden, or driving my retirement-job bus. Or, sometimes Dolores will say, "Do you remember the time...."

Not only do I remember it, it's a great column idea.

It was something she said about a newspaper where we worked together that "inspired" me to write this.

I just can't remember what it was she said.

But I wrote about it anyhow.

*Some photographers still prefer film cameras, saying they produce better quality pictures. I think the quality of a digital camera depends largely on the number of megapixels the camera places on each picture. I understand a pixel to be a little dot of color on the picture, and the more of these little dots there are the better the picture. I still use two film cameras, because I can't think of any reason not to since they both are good quality cameras one of which I used as a reporter. If it ain't broke, why replace it? Maybe because we don't have the money for a good digital camera, and we don't want one that doesn't take good photos.

Milt Gross can be reached for corrections, harassment, or other purposes at lesstraveledway@midmaine.com.

Milton M. Gross Copyright 2010