Below the Fold

Where There is Journalism, There is Hope

(Note: The following is the final chapter from my forthcoming book, “The Last Newspaper.” It’s printed here with permission from, well, myself...)

“The one thing most likely to make the public value newspapers is newspapers valuing the public.”

-- Paul Bradshaw, senior lecturer in online journalism at Birmingham City University

THERE IS A POPULAR TWITTER channel that tracks layoffs, financial struggles and whatever gloom and doom happens to be falling on the traditional media industry. Called “The Media is Dying,” the tweets read like epitaphs. Thousands of journalists follow the stream, mostly to see if their publication is the next to suffer.

There are digital tombstones like this everywhere. It seems like there are more people writing about failing newspapers than there are journalists working for them. The Associated Press is facing major layoffs, while Politico, an online news site, hired a former Washington Post editor to start a local news operation in Washington, D.C., which itself will hire 50 people including two dozen reporters.

The Observer Newspaper, the world’s oldest Sunday paper, may close because of poor financial performance. And the Tribune Company, in addition to shrinking staff, is also shrinking the width of its papers to save money.

Yet the future is bright. Yes, that’s what I said. For where there is journalism, there is hope. However, we also need journalists to do a lot of the work.

Now I’m not going to head down the path of belittling or underestimating the power of citizen journalists – one only needs to remember the iconic images of the London Underground bombings in 2005, the first-hand reports of the Virginia Tech massacre in 2007, or the Tweets heard ‘round the world about the Iranian elections in 2009 to be convinced.

But citizens don't need to learn how to be journalists – instead, journalists need to learn how to re-connect with their communities and earn back the public’s trust.

Journalists can start by not blaming technology for all of their problems. The Internet didn’t force the Los Angeles Times to stop covering City Hall (if anything, the wide availability of national and international news should have had the opposite effect.) The Internet didn’t turn once respected reporters like Lou Dobbs and Bill O’Reilly into cult leaders, or give a former sports anchor a prime time political bull whip. The Internet didn’t tell Jayson Blair to lie, Judith Miller to report government propaganda or Ann Coulter to go bat shit crazy (the voices in her head did that.)

We expect Fox News and TMZ to “flood the zone” with tasteless and baseless drivel designed to bait and anesthetize an already fearful public. But we needed – and still need – real journalists to fill the void with news that matters. We need them to talk to us, work with us, and help us regain the sense of community that’s been lost within a cacophony of “content.”

Journalists need to get back on the “beat,” forget about technology and focus on sociology, humanity, community and, most important, their Constitutional duty to watch those who would watch over us. They need to be hyper local, hyper personal and medium agnostic in their reporting. Journalists need to stop being led and learn how to lead once more.

As I said, where there is journalism, there is hope. And there is a lot of hope out there if you know where to look:

• Pierre Omidyar, an investor who backed early (and now failed) citizen journalism startups Backfence and Bayosphere, is starting a non-profit news service in Hawaii that will be staffed with professional journalists. As Omidyar says on his blog, “We’re a small, fast-moving entrepreneurial team dedicated to bringing civic affairs journalism and analysis to our community in a commercially sustainable way. We combine our social media and online community experience with a passion for journalism in the public interest.”  This is an emerging trend that’s worth following and supporting, a sort of “NPR” model that requires journalists to work with their communities both for stories and ongoing funding.

• Some reporters are taking matters into their own hands, such as former Florida Sun-Sentinel reporter Jerry Lower, who took a loan against his house to start The Coastal Star, a hyper local offline and online newspaper serving the Delray Beach area. His paper is turning a profit, as is Health News Florida, a niche as well as local news site run by former Orlando Sentinel reporter Carol Gentry. Her non-profit model leverages a variety of funding sources, typically in small amounts from multiple foundations and organizations.

• Jay Rosen, professor of journalism at New York University, was one of the first to coin the term “Pro Am” journalism, where professional reporters and the lay public work together to cover the news. Early examples include the Northwest Voice (backed by the Bakersfield Californian), My Missourian from Columbia, Mo., and Rosen’s own (albeit now defunct) Assignment Zero. I’m no expert in why Assignment Zero failed and why other experiments survived, but I have to believe it’s due, at least in part, to focusing on being smaller. Just look at ChicagoNow, a local blog hub started by the Chicago Tribune Media Group but run entirely “by Chicagoans for Chicagoans.” The site focuses on stories people can’t get from the bigger, more traditional ChicagoTribune.com – and for those stories it turns to more than 120 local bloggers who are experts in the kind of minutia of daily civic life that only a taxpaying resident could love. The bloggers are paid $5 per 1,000 page views and are encouraged to comment and interact with the community.

Local, local, and then more local news – this, to me, is the key to journalism’s rebirth. People will support it and advertisers will pay for it (imagine, reaching people who can actually go into your store.) This isn’t about a “paper,” it’s about reporting – in words, in video, online or on mobile. Follow the story and follow your audience, then apply whatever technology makes sense.

Sometimes this also means recognizing and raising the voices within your community – journalists are also great aggregators and should leverage the social web for stories and collaboration, such as Robert Quigley of the Austin-American Statesman, who uses Twitter to find the best local information as well as share relevant news from the paper itself.

Local news is bigger than ever – according to a study by the National Newspaper Association, 86 million Americans still read local newspapers every week, and 60 percent say the newspaper is their primary source of information about their community.

Yes, the future of news is bright even though the outlook is dim. Besides, we can’t give up on journalism, for if we do that, we are giving up on ourselves. We would be giving away our rights and a freedom that nearly every other society in the world would love to experience, and whose people and journalists are dying almost every day for that privilege.

“I believe in the profession of journalism,” wrote Walter Williams, the first dean of the Missouri School of Journalism, in 1908. “I believe that the public journal is a public trust; that all connected with it are, to the full measure of their responsibility, trustees for the public; that acceptance of a lesser service than the public service is betrayal of this trust…

“I believe that the journalism which succeeds best -- and best deserves success -- fears God and honors Man; is stoutly independent, unmoved by pride of opinion or greed of power, constructive, tolerant but never careless, self-controlled, patient, always respectful of its readers but always unafraid, is quickly indignant at injustice; is unswayed by the appeal of privilege or the clamor of the mob; seeks to give every man a chance and, as far as law and honest wage and recognition of human brotherhood can make it so, an equal chance; is profoundly patriotic while sincerely promoting international good will and cementing world-comradeship; is a journalism of humanity, of and for today's world.”

I believe in the profession of journalism, still. I believe in the hope it transmits and the values it embodies. And I believe the time has come to embrace journalism again.

Leave the Journalism to the Journalists

Being married for 18 years has taught me how to make excuses. Usually these excuses have little effect, other than to serve as a caustic reminder of just how little influence I have in my own house.

Nevertheless, my excuse for not posting in the past couple months is a pretty good one: I’ve been busy compiling a book based on this blog. So you see, I have been writing, just the old-fashioned way – in private.

The book – called The Last Newspaper: Reflections on the Future of News – should be done next month, at which time there might even be a few newspapers left. I hope so – as regular readers of this blog know, I’m still a fan of storytelling, something that Twitter can’t provide and that newspapers don’t deliver often enough. And I’m a fan of reporters, partly because I used to be one, and partly because they aren’t editors.

It’s easy to assume that all social media today is an iceberg, newspapers are the Titanic and that reporters are looking for lifeboats. While certainly true for some, there are others for whom newspapers have simply lost the desire to be different.

I met once such reporter recently in Sacramento. He was interested in looking for a new career, but not for the reasons you may think. He loves newspapers, loves writing for them and loves having worked for them for nearly two decades. He also loves technology and embraces new media as much as the old. And he’s not the least bit worried about becoming an unemployment statistic.

Blogs aren’t killing this mainstream media star – boredom is. The “product” being shaped by management is a bland, watered-down journalism designed not to offend, and in doing so ends up signifying nothing.

This is the opposite of what today’s newspapers need to do to survive. Newspapers have to provoke and inspire. They must be spontaneous and serious, make us laugh and cry. Most importantly, newspapers have to stop reporting the news and start telling good stories again.

The news business can’t drive the product – that must be left to the journalists. Let the good ones do their jobs and the product will improve. Let them get bored, strip their inspiration, and the last newspaper may be here sooner than we think.

The Last Newspaper

Daniel headed for the darkest corner of his local Starbucks, the Last Newspaper clutched snug against his chest.

He opened it slowly, carefully, as if he were cradling an ancient parchment. The crinkling sound it made drew a few stares, and then a few more as those around him realized that they were sitting just a few feet from history.

Daniel pretended not to notice. He wasn’t much for attention or conversation. But even he couldn’t deny the significance of this stubborn relic that had struggled against the future and lost.

So he didn’t cringe when several customers put down their Kindles and slid over to his table. After all, he had heard the questions over and over for months as he executed his daily routine of “offline” media consumption. He knew that this day would come, when the Last Newspaper rolled off the press and he alone would be left to feel the ink seep into the creases of his fingertips, turn the oversized pages and engage in a forgotten literary ritual.

The questions often took the form of puzzled amusement:

• "Isn't the news old by the time you read it?”
• "How do you search?"
• "What do you mean you had to pay for it?"
• "Why would you want a bunch of content you don’t care about?
• "I’ve got all the news that’s fit to click right here."
• "What is ‘ink’”?

Daniel took it all in stride. He nodded politely, laughed lightly, and answered what he could with all the patience and quiet pride of a museum curator.

He reminded his rapt audience that what they now refer to as “content” used to be called “stories,” delivered by trained individuals known as “storytellers” and “journalists.” These people didn’t work for companies like Google or Amazon as they do now, culling “content” from armies of information aggregators and feeding it into computers which analyze and pull out the relevant information by keyword. Before news was fully automated, Daniel said, individuals wrote entire stories themselves. They researched and crafted linear narratives – unheard of today, he admitted, but at the time people found value in following a certain flow.

Of course, people had more time back then, too. The move from stories to content was slow as well, and its tipping point went largely unnoticed. Before anyone knew what was happening, stories became shorter, sliced, repurposed and packaged as do-it-yourself news. Where once we read stories, we now consumed content.

Maybe this is why it happened, Daniel thought, as the crowd went back to the soft glow of their Kindles and mobile media devices. Maybe the descent from stories to content was the fait accompli of the printed page. 

Stories are personal and transformational. Stories have definition and character. Stories are history personified.

But content is cold, distant. Content is a commodity – a finite consumable of fleeting value. Content is artificial intelligence.

When storytelling is reduced to content, ideas die.

And with that, Daniel stood, folded the Last Newspaper back under his arm and walked away, leaving the future behind for the last time.

Newspapers Can Win by Being Last

My boss, who given the nature of our work is a savvy digital guy, noted via Facebook how the news about Gen. Colin Powell’s endorsement of Sen. Barack Obama for President broke first on Twitter, before the Washington Post, New York Times or Wall Street Journal. This is interesting as a piece of trivia, but what it says about the psyche of the American news consumer is far more powerful.

It says that the past decade or so of 24-hour news, infotainment, halfwit commentators and Internet-born drivel has taught us nothing.

It means that we still celebrate speed over substance, accolades over accuracy, and timing over truth. It means that winning is only about being first and not about being right. It says that getting out of the starting blocks first matters more than finishing the race.

I know this isn’t true for everyone, but it’s true for many and that is troubling enough.

Newspapers aren’t dying solely because of an outdated business model or modern means of distribution – they are dying because things without speed are viewed as having little to no value in a 21^st Century world.

The Los Angeles Times, my hometown paper, is getting thinner not for lack of advertising but for lack of news. A redesign to make stories and sections easier to find via call-outs and color coding hasn’t changed the fact that there is less relevance to the stories for people who already got that morning’s headlines via Google or iPhone.

Newspapers – and I’m talking specifically about the print product – need to stop chasing television and the Internet. We get plenty of news fast, but what we need is a place to slow down and digest.

Let the Web side of the house be more about the “what” and the newspaper side more about the “so what.” Give us analysis and investigation, and use the paper’s web site to fill in the gaps between editions and keep us on top of the breaking stories. And bring back the afternoon newspaper – the news will be timelier and the analysis more welcome at the end of the day when we’ve had our fill of RSS feeds.

If newspapers want to win, they need to finish last.

Hmm, that sentence is short enough to tweet. But I’m sure someone has already beaten me to it.

Jay Mariotti and the Dead Newspapers Society

Sportswriter Jay Mariotti, who quit the Chicago Sun-Times and then told a local television station that “newspapers are dead,” raised the ire of many in the news industry including (former) colleague Roger Ebert. In a not-so-private open letter to the Sun-Times staff, Ebert called Mariotti “a rat” and, in essence, a coward for leaving the newspaper business during troubled times.

Mariotti is of course entitled to his opinion and his career choices, even if his opinion makes him look like a childish jerk. Nevertheless, he is making the same mistake and suffers from the same misperceptions that most non-journalists have about newspapers.

Newspapers aren’t dead, they are not even dying. They are, in fact, changing, which is not a bad thing.

Change doesn’t come easy, and yes, change means that some papers won’t survive. But newspapers were never about the “paper” or print – they are about storytelling, and storytellers, and ideas. What is really changing – and why all media is going through a kind of metamorphosis – is the definition of news, both in terms or what constitutes a news story as well as what are “legitimate” sources of news and forms of delivery.

My nine-year-old daughter doesn’t read a newspaper and may never, but she reads news headlines delivered via our Wii game system. I read the New York Times on my mobile phone. Contrary to the name of my blog, nothing today is “below the fold” because our media universe is one big front page that we control.

According to a recent Pew Report on changing news habits, young people are losing interest in news – 34 percent of those under 25 years old get “no news” in a typical day, up from 25 percent 10 years ago. But Poynter’s Amy Gahran challenges the findings, noting that the study perhaps didn’t investigate “social” avenues to news and information or the impact of search engines or mobile technology.

News, like most all other forms of communication today, is both accidental and on-demand. We often get news online when we aren’t looking for it, and we also get news when and how we want it (we also seem to get only the news we want to hear, but that’s another issue for another day.)

So let’s not confuse the changes news is going through with its impact. News still matters, even if the news itself is not always recognizable based on long-held perceptions.

And the Chicago Sun-Times? I predict it will still be around in some form ten years from now. And Jay Mariotti, the latest member of the Dead Newspapers Society, will still be talking – after all, if you ever read his stuff, you would know that talking is the only thing he’s good at.

 

Tim Russert: Citizen Journalist

“Feels like the country’s biggest game is about to be played without the referee.” – Elizabeth Wilner, posted on the “Missing Russert” Facebook group.

 

AS MODERN JOURNALISM LAY near death, with its entertainment-driven news, pomp and punditry, Tim Russert was its life support. Now, with Russert gone, we can only wonder how long journalism can go on.

Russert’s ability to hold an entire profession together was never fully noticed or appreciated. But as reporters, broadcasters, colleagues and competitors flooded the airwaves in the hours after Russert’s death from a heart attack, the void left by Buffalo’s favorite son was painfully obvious.

There was Keith Olbermann, the antithesis of objective journalism, talking to his partner in polemics Chris Matthews about Russert’s objectivity and dedication to his craft.

There was Wolf Blitzer and Larry King from CNN, saying all the right things but looking lost, as if without Russert the nation would have to turn its lonely eyes to them for its political coverage – the thought of which scared them to death.

Certainly Russert can never be replaced, but there’s no one left in television news that is even in the same league. It was as if Paul McCartney had died, and the only people left to deliver the eulogies were Miley Cyrus and Right Said Fred.

Olbermann’s tribute was beautiful and heartfelt to be sure, but the real proof of Russert’s impact will come when Olbermann tapes his next edition of “Countdown.” Will he, as Russert did, learn everything he can about his guests’ positions and then take the other side? Will he use his obvious intellect to inform us or just keep us pissed off?

And will Matthews, on his next “Hardball,” let his guests finish a complete sentence? Will he, as Russert did, force politicians to go beyond their well-practiced sound bites?

Will anyone – can anyone – remember Russert through their actions and not their words? Or with Russert’s passing has the plug been pulled on journalism, on objectivity and discourse forever.

I want to say yes to the latter. I want to just give up on a profession that, save for a few serious journalists, gave up on itself a long time ago.

But that wouldn’t befit Tim. This was a Bills fan after all – he was a man who always believed in the next play, the next game, the next season.

Russert was the true definition of a citizen journalist. His questions were ours, and he never forgot for whom he worked. His authenticity, unlike that of so many of his contemporaries, was unimpeachable.

Journalism changed and Russert survived. The question now is whether journalism will survive without the likes of Tim Russert.

Journalism's Next 100 Years

I got a call from the University of Missouri Journalism School, my alma mater, reminding me of the 100th anniversary celebration this year. Founded in 1908, Missouri was the world’s first journalism school and is still regarded as one of the best.

Yet while overall it was a great first hundred years for American journalism, it’s the next 100 I worry about. Or in the prescient phrase uttered by ABC News anchorman Charles Gibson at Pennsylvania’s recent Democratic presidential debate, “the crowd is turning” on how professionals report the news.

History is the art of hindsight, so writing about an event before the ink dries and the digital bits settle is at best unfair. Nevertheless, you don’t need Galileo’s vision to see that the Pennsylvania debate marked another in series of dark turning points for the news business.

The financial pain we’ve known for while – as this year’s State of the News Media study revealed, advertising revenue is still going down, as are pre-tax earnings, profit margins and stock values. Even online newspaper advertising, while up 20 percent in 2007, is growing slower than online advertising as a whole, and is 10 percent lower than last year.

Newspaper owners answered with widespread staff layoffs, leading to less local reporting and therefore fewer readers which – you guessed it – resulted in less revenue. It’s also meant narrower reporting, with issues like Iraq and the presidential elections representing the majority of coverage. And it’s meant an unhealthy attraction to transient stories that are the equivalent of chewing gum, the media smacking its lips long after the gum has lost its taste.

All this came to a head in Pennsylvania. What should have been a debate about the future of the country became a Fox-style reality show about flag lapel pins. And the people responded, with boos in the audience and thousands of comments on ABC’s web site. The media itself became the story – a story prompted by ordinary people now with extraordinary access to the once powerful press.

Last year’s YouTube debates will be remembered for authentic questions about real-life issues from a mosaic of American culture. The ABC debate will be remembered as the day modern journalism died in a cacophony of tabloid-style interrogations, punctuated by the nervous laughter of a once proud newsman, gasping to stay afloat in a sea of discontent.

ABC should have known better. It should have known that news in the next 100 years will be more “service” that product, something that people will look to for intellectual guidance. News is a conversation, or as the BBC’s Richard Sambrook has said, a partnership – and in this sense, ABC failed its partners miserably.

Consider this: When asked about his debate performance, ABC News’ George Stephanopoulos said, “The questions we asked…are being debated around the political world every day.” A commenter on ABC’s web site said, “"Some of us actually live in the real world and care much more about real issues like food and gas prices.”

This is where we need to start the next 100 years of American journalism – in the real world. The crowd is turning, indeed.

                           

I got a call from the University of Missouri Journalism School, my alma mater, reminding me of the 100th anniversary celebration this year. Founded in 1908, Missouri was the world’s first journalism school and is still regarded as one of the best.

Yet while overall it was a great first hundred years for American journalism, it’s the next 100 I worry about. Or in the prescient phrase uttered by ABC News anchorman Charles Gibson at Pennsylvania’s recent Democratic presidential debate, “the crowd is turning” on how professionals report the news.

History is the art of hindsight, so writing about an event before the ink dries and the digital bits settle is at best unfair. Nevertheless, you don’t need Galileo’s vision to see that the Pennsylvania debate marked another in series of dark turning points for the news business.

The financial pain we’ve known for while – as this year’s State of the News Media study revealed, advertising revenue is still going down, as are pre-tax earnings, profit margins and stock values. Even online newspaper advertising, while up 20 percent in 2007, is growing slower than online advertising as a whole, and is 10 percent lower than last year.

Newspaper owners answered with widespread staff layoffs, leading to less local reporting and therefore fewer readers which – you guessed it – resulted in less revenue. It’s also meant narrower reporting, with issues like Iraq and the presidential elections representing the majority of coverage. And it’s meant an unhealthy attraction to transient stories that are the equivalent of chewing gum, the media smacking its lips long after the gum has lost its taste.

All this came to a head in Pennsylvania. What should have been a debate about the future of the country became a Fox-style reality show about flag lapel pins. And the people responded, with boos in the audience and thousands of comments on ABC’s web site. The media itself became the story – a story prompted by ordinary people now with extraordinary access to the once powerful press.

Last year’s YouTube debates will be remembered for authentic questions about real-life issues from a mosaic of American culture. The ABC debate will be remembered as the day modern journalism died in a cacophony of tabloid-style interrogations, punctuated by the nervous laughter of a once proud newsman, gasping to stay afloat in a sea of discontent.

ABC should have known better. It should have known that news in the next 100 years will be more “service” that product, something that people will look to for intellectual guidance. News is a conversation, or as the BBC’s Richard Sambrook has said, a partnership – and in this sense, ABC failed its partners miserably.

Consider this: When asked about his debate performance, ABC News’ George Stephanopoulos said, “The questions we asked…are being debated around the political world every day.” A commenter on ABC’s web site said, “"Some of us actually live in the real world and care much more about real issues like food and gas prices.”

This is where we need to start the next 100 years of American journalism – in the real world. The crowd is turning, indeed.

                           

Making Newspapers Matter: The Tragic Value of Content

“Hey Gary: After a year of unanswered emails to the editor of the Portland, Maine, Press Herald pleading for better local reporting and editing...I started a blog a month ago…” T.C. Munjoy, Pressing the Herald (http://pressingtheherald.blogspot.com/)

ONE MORE BLOG IN THE WORLD is not the end of traditional journalism. Even the target of Mr. Munjoy’s citizen reporting, the Press Herald of Portland, Maine, will unlikely feel any pain, at least in the short term. But what Mr. Munjoy and countless others have done by starting blogs for the purpose of either enhancing or supplanting local news is nothing less than apocalyptic.

Consider this one simple fact: Mr. Munjoy distributes his product on a platform he uses for free. If he ever decides to charge a fee, it will be for his blog’s content, not its distribution.

And herein lays the Achilles Heel of newspapers: their costs are all in the distribution, not the content. In fact, contrary to what newspaper executives may want you to believe, newspapers have never charged for their content – which is why the newspaper industry is, and for the foreseeable future will be, in serious trouble.

The Big Mistake
Five cents, 10 cents, 25 cents, 50 cents…whatever the cost of your daily paper, that cost goes to pay for the means of distribution. Paper, ink, presses, gasoline, tires, vending machines and so on – all means of distribution. The same goes for advertising – the more ads you can sell, the more pages you can print, the more there is to distribute.

Obviously some of this revenue goes to pay for reporters and editors, but in a purely business sense, the content they produce merely allows the company to distribute a product. And as I said, that’s how newspapers make money, by distributing their product.

This worked fine until the Internet Age. Newspapers made the mistake of looking at the Internet as simply another means of distribution, assuming that people would come to their web sites and read the news, and more importantly read the ads that helped pay for the web servers and Net access fees.

But search trumped any vision of people reading the news only at a newspaper’s web site. Now they could read the news on Google, Yahoo, MSN or via RSS feeds straight to their computer desktops. The new media companies like Google saw value in the content, not the distribution, and traditional newspapers have been trying to catch up ever since.

Some newspapers tried to charge for content, but having not placed any value there before it was difficult to make that case now (there is, however, a legitimate argument over whether news aggregators can publish copyrighted material without permission.) Niche publications did better than mass market ones, but with the free content genie out of the bottle and more and more information available from more and more sources, content itself became commoditized.

As the public turned more selective, news turned more subjective. After all, if you want people to value content, you have to make it stand out. But in trying to save their business model, newspapers have injured journalism.

Where we are Today
Television had its role in this tragedy as well. In the Golden Age of TV news, daily broadcasts were not expected to make money. News was seen as a loss leader, its existence seen as nothing less than fulfilling a sacred public trust.

But television was also a business, and as profits rose from the entertainment side of the house, pressure mounted on the news divisions to earn some of that valuable ad revenue. So television news, because it came into people’s homes for free, looked to its content to attract viewers – to entertain them if not inform.

And this is where we are now, in print, on the airwaves and online – a journalism where placing value on news content means a world of infotainment and hyperbole, of diversion and distraction.

There is plenty of good work to be sure, but how long will it last? How long will newspapers focus efforts on the “paper” part of their monikers instead of the “news” – on supporting an obsolete distribution infrastructure rather than new business models that place value on content that is truly valuable?

We don’t have the answers yet – but like any good journalist, getting to the answers starts with asking the right questions. Let’s hope there are some good journalists left to ask them.

Good luck, Mr. Munjoy. The future of quality journalism may someday turn its lonely eyes to you.

In CNN’s Hands, YouTube Loses its Voice

As a former newspaper reporter, I never had much respect for television news. More style than substance, more sound bite than serious, TV journalism was media junk food. I preferred a good steak and still do.

There were exceptions – Walter Cronkite, Jim Lehrer and, going way back, Ed Murrow (though he served up his share of sugary snacks as well.) And in the early ‘90s, there was a decade-old network called CNN that, with its blog-like first person coverage of the Gulf War, showed that television and journalism could indeed coexist and add reason to public discourse.

But that was, as they say, then – and this, unfortunately for our country and its conscience, is now.

I accepted CNN’s financial need to compete with Fox and MSNBC by taking a side – not conservative like Fox or liberal like MSNBC, but a kind of neo populism characterized by anchor-driven “mad as hell” histrionics. I looked away when the “maddest” of the bunch, Lou Dobbs, made illegal immigration his clarion call.

Then last week, CNN went too far. The network, which hosted the Republican “YouTube Debate,” went from ranting about the election to attempting to rig it.

CNN is no longer a news organization; it is a political action committee. It has gone off the deep end not in search of ratings, but rather in an obsequious bow to Dobbs, his quest for book sales and a possible third-party Presidential bid.

Consider this: the first one-third of the debate centered on immigration, Dobbs one-trick pony, despite national polls showing that only six percent of Americans believe immigration is an important issue in the 2008 election. What are the top issues? Iraq, the economy, healthcare and energy costs. What other topics did CNN producers cull from the 5,000 YouTube submissions? They chose gun control, the Confederate flag and whether the Bible is the true word of God.

I don’t mind the YouTube format – in fact I love its raw sense of immediacy. But don’t for one minute think that the format makes the debate any more real; CNN took care of that, manipulating the event to serve its own puerile purposes.

CNN not only crossed the line, it went into uncharted waters. It used the electoral process, hardly free of abuse itself, to serve its hunger for relevance and ratings. CNN has gone from being an inspiration to journalism to being its enemy – a voice beyond mere bias now bent on Machiavellian power.

Hyperbole? Perhaps. CNN is, after all, just a network – just a business. As I said before, I never had much respect for television news, so maybe I should go eat my steak and shut up. Just sit back, relax and listen -- the news is on.

Looking Ahead: Content is Where You Are

AS BOTH A CHILD OF and practitioner in the modern “we’ve got you surrounded” age of media, nothing should surprise me. I’m used to message bombardment, from traditional sources like television and radio to more non-traditional sources like shopping cart handles, airport security trays and strategically placed tattoos. Even O.J. Simpson getting arrested again isn’t enough to make me blink.

But as the picture here demonstrates, there is always a new way to reach consumers who long ago either tuned out traditional media, or are so inundated by advertising that they tune it all out.

Advertising paradise has been paved and put into a parking lot. It’s as clear as the lines on the asphalt asking us to watch Desperate Housewives on ABC – these are desperate times for television as well.

But this isn’t about TV or anything else being “dead.” It’s about media companies continuing to change and adjust to a modern world that isn’t going away. It’s about embracing people’s busy lives and reaching them where they are, rather than making an appointment and hoping people show up. Unlike its much older media colleague – newspapers – TV is mad as hell and not going to take it anymore.

ABC has been especially adept at understanding the New Web Order, that your web presence is more important than your web site. As one ABC exec put it, “ABC.com is a platform – and that platform can be distributed anywhere.”

And it is, on mobile phones and iPods (we’re waiting for the inevitable Facebook app, too.) ABC also cracked the code of co-creation, using its Lost message boards to help develop plotlines with the audience.

This is in contrast to NBC’s latest move to remove its shows from Apple’s dominant iTunes store, opting instead to make shows available for free on its web site. The catch? The free shows have commercials while the iTunes shows you pay for are commercial free.

No question NBC’s decision has more to do with money than content distribution. And plenty of people will go to NBC and watch shows for free rather than pay a few dollars not to see car ad after car ad.

I just wonder how long this can last. Ultimately people don’t want to be on your web site, they want to be on their web site, blog, social network, phone, iPod or PDA. The web site is a creature of the ‘90s and is quickly becoming an endangered species, but that’s a topic for another day.

More and more, content today is wherever people are – not where anyone else, including the TV networks, wants them to be.