This morning at the Patriot-News, the newspaper in Harrisburg, Pa., where I am a reporter, one of the newsroom staff sent out an "all" message with the subject line, "The producer of 'The Wire' could have worked here." Attached was an essay by David Simon in today's Washington Post.
Everyone read it, even if they weren't aware, as I was, that Simon is the executive producer, creator, and lead writer of HBO's "The Wire," a gritty, urban crime drama set in Baltimore that is in its fifth and last season. Harrisburg actor Dominick Cicco plays a bit part in Episode 3 as Andreas, the counterman at Little Johnny's Diner. My daughter Lydia, who knows him from the Central Pennsylvania Youth Opera production of "The Araboolies of Liberty Street" in 2006, was thrilled to see him on TV. I think he told me about this at the cast party. But I digress.
What has the journalism world buzzing is the portrayal in "The Wire" of the Baltimore Sun, which is called, yeah, the Baltimore Sun. Simon worked there as a reporter from 1983-98. It's a dead-on portrayal--rare for TV--of modern newspaper life, the good, the bad, and very definitely the ugly. Simon is unsparing. The Sun, which is owned by the Tribune Co. of Chicago, has been decimated by buy-outs, i.e., staff reductions where they pay you to leave, but even more so by self-inflicted wounds. The owners have decided that the public wants less news, not more, and wants fluff over substance (all of which is cheaper to produce). They actually came to believe that readers knew more than professional journalists about how to report the news.
Call it suicide by focus group. Why focus groups? They've been the rage in the newspaper industry for at least the last decade, and supposedly tell management that readers want less news, shorter stories, and more fluff about church dinners and groundbreakings. Ever wonder who has time to be on focus groups? Not anyone with a serious job or family obligations. They aren't exactly representative, and can end up reinforcing industry preconceptions. When more comprehensive telephone polls are conducted of all residents of a region, the results differ sharply. They tell the pollsters they want more news and more explanation of important events in the world around them, and not just in their backyards.
In the real world, the Tribune Company fired James E. O'Shea, the editor of the Los Angeles Times this week for refusing to make huge and mindless newsroom cuts going into the Presidential election and Olympics year. In his parting remarks to his staff, O'Shea sharply criticized the Tribune Co.'s single-minded focus on cost cutting, its lack of investment in the Times, and "an aversion to serious news." This is the same Tribune Co. that owns the Baltimore Sun, the Allentown (Pa.) Morning Call, and other papers around the country.
Those of us who love newspapers, who love the profession and have devoted our lives to it, see ourselves as the radio operator on the Titanic, calling desperately for help after the captain steered the ship into an iceberg. At least our readers escape with their lives, picked up by the SS Internet and given warm blankets and hot chocolate. But enough of this strained metaphor. Suffice it to say the Patriot-News is no stranger to the woes of the industry.
That was why my colleague wrote, "The producer of 'The Wire' could have worked here." Gimmicks won't save newspapers. Only news will save newspapers. Maybe not even that.