“You realize that your work with these people was real, and it did matter.” A Q and A With Fired Indiana Daily Student Media Adviser Jim Rodenbush (Part II)

Jim Rodenbush from the IU website

If you missed Part I, you can link to it here.

Indiana University’s Media School fired Indiana Daily Student media adviser Jim Rodenbush after he wouldn’t censor the students and then cut the print publication entirely. The story continues to unfold, and we’ll keep you apprised of anything we learn. In the meantime, it seemed like a good idea to interview the man himself at length to understand his current situation.

Rodenbush was nice enough to spend his layover at the airport on the phone with us, talking about his experiences with the IU Media School. He also talked about what he sees next for himself and what he hopes will be next for his students.

Below is part two of a transcription of our Q and A, with edits to the material to tighten and clarify parts of our discussion, as well as make more sense of my questions, which somehow Rodenbush understood among the many Midwestern “Yeah… Yeah… No…” interjections I put in there.

Dean David Tolchinsky, who one source called “clueless” in his understanding of journalism and the First Amendment.

You mentioned Dean David Tolchinsky earlier and I know I’ve said a lot about him over the past year here. I’ve heard from folks that he is “clueless” when it comes to journalism and doesn’t know squat about important things like the First Amendment. What’s your take on all that?

JIM RODENBUSH: “The best ‘glass-half-full response’ that I can give to this is, David does not come with a journalism background. If he has learned anything about journalism in the last two years, I would say that he’s learned it in tiny baby steps, and most of the responsibility related to student media and journalism, he’s farmed out to other people.

 

Galen Clavio, seen here fronting a 1980s Night Ranger cover band, was Rodenbush’s direct supervisor for most of the past year.

And that brings me to my next question. It’s my understanding that Associate Dean Galen Clavio has been the main guy who is pushing the ideas about changing student media at IU and he’s the one trying to crank out whatever his version of journalism should be at the IDS. What’s the front page on this guy in relation to this whole situation? 

JIM RODENBUSH: “A lot of this responsibility was put on this plate in his role as associate dean. He was made my direct supervisor, basically from October to October, and before the public media guy came in. He has made himself a presence in what I guess you could call the general IU media community, right? He’s in the trenches, he’s producing content, he’s someone who can present himself as someone who is in the know, but his background is also not journalism. His background is media production. His background is sports media. He’s really has made himself a face in the podcasting world, which is great, but that’s you giving your opinion about football. There’s no journalism background to that.”

“In my interactions with him, there wasn’t much of an interest in the journalism side of things because of the liability and the trouble it causes. So, many of his ideas were leaning into production, leaning into background work, and leaning into turning out people that would produce things like Big 10 Network shows, people that would set up the latest podcast. And, yes, these are viable career opportunities. I don’t want to diminish the things that are on the production side of things, but that being said, Galen doesn’t have the background or the interest in growing anything related to real reporting. There’s no background and there’s no interest in helping to grow that at all.”

 

Obviously, you’ve gotten a ton of attention because of this situation. With everyone reaching out to you now, what is the general vibe of their comments? 

JIM RODENBUSH: “I’ve worked at four different universities over 15 years, so I I’m hearing from students and from former colleagues I haven’t talked to him forever. That’s the kind of thing that this situation has generated. Everything has been 100% supportive. I haven’t received a single negative message. Every one of them has been, ‘Thank you for standing up for journalism principles.’ A lot of them have been very complimentary on the example that’s being set for students. Every one of them is saying they’re very sorry that this happened to me, but that I did the right thing.”

 

Given everything that’s happening now, what do you think we are looking at, as far as the IDS and as far as IU is concerned from a reputation standpoint?

JIM RODENBUSH: “You can quote me hard on this one: The IDS was a dream job. It was a dream destination, because it had, it had such a glowing reputation. I felt like I had landed in the big leagues by getting this position. This was a big deal. And this is a big deal to the point where my wife and I had talked about this being our final landing spot. So, this is the dream position where I had expected to spend the rest of my working career. But now, I could not, in good conscience, recommend this position to anyone, for all the reasons that are out there right now.”

“That being said, I do believe from an editorial content standpoint, I know that the kids are going to do everything they possibly can to keep this going as long as they can. And so from a journalism reputation standpoint, I believe that it’s going to hold on as long as it can possibly hold on, but it’s going to get worse, right? It has to. And so it’s just difficult. I don’t know where this goes, and I feel bad for the people that are left behind to continue to try to make this work.”

 

What do you want for the kids at the paper going forward? From your perspective, if the kids could make something happen that would make you say, “Yeah, I feel good for the kids,” what would that be? Is it you back on the job at the IDS? Is it people leaving them alone? Is it Mark Cuban buying the IDS and having “news boys” run all over campus? What’s the best-case situation in your mind?.

JIM RODENBUSH: “It’s so weird, because they should be something that the university should (promote) a lot. With all due respect to my colleagues, the IDS is among the best student media organizations in the country. It’s just full of talented kids, inspiring kids and they’re doing everything right. My hope for them is that there is at least some version of support and advocacy going forward, so that the ones that want to continue to do the work are able to do so.”

“A best-case scenario would be to give the kids a seat at the table. All these decisions are being made absent of input from me, absent of input from the professional staff, but definitely absence of input from the students, and they’re the ones that have to implement things. Let them make decisions. You know they’re going to operate in the best interest of the organization, if you let them.”

 

OK, what about for you? Where do you go next? 

JIM RODENBUSH: “I’m happily married forever to the world’s most compassionate human being, and she has been incredible in the last 48 hours. I have a daughter that goes to IU I have another son who’s about to go to college, and then I have another son who is graduated high school, but it’s on a different path. So there’s a family structure there.”

“Moving forward, I just don’t really know. I’ve allowed myself a couple days to take a beat. I’m going to allow myself a couple more days to enjoy being around everybody, and then I’ve got to figure out what’s next. I hope to continue and in the media world, and I hope to continue in some version of the college level. So I get back home on Sunday and, Monday, I really have to wake up and say, ‘OK, what am I doing?’”

 

If I were to hand you the microphone and let you say anything you want to say about anything at all, what do you want people to know?

JIM RODENBUSH: “In a situation like this, people reach out, and they’re like, ‘I’m so sorry to hear about what’s going on to on you and please let me know if you need anything.’ I’ve been on the other end of that before, but this is the first time I’ve been on this side of the situation and it’s really helpful to know that people are thinking about you. So much the work that you do is in a bubble, and a lot of the times you don’t hear feedback unless somebody’s yelling at you. And you have all these relationships with students, and you think that you’re doing right by them, and you think that you’re doing right by journalism, but you just don’t know.”

“And then you have a situation like this, where people are telling you what you meant to them, and that’s — Jesus, I’m getting emotional — that’s been a real positive part of all this. All of these people are reaching out — and I swear I’ll respond to everybody – and it means so much because you know you’re not totally alone in this process. You realize that your work with these people was real, and it did matter.”

“This was never about money, and I think that their actions prove it.” A Q and A With Fired Indiana Daily Student Media Adviser Jim Rodenbush (Part I)

Jim Rodenbush from the IU website

In the span of one week, the Indiana University attempted to censor the Indiana Daily Student newspaper, fired student media adviser Jim Rodenbush for not enforcing the censorship and killed the IDS’s print publications when it was clear the students would not yield.

The story of this has blown up beyond the confines of Bloomington, with The New York Times, NBC News, The Guardian and others following the situation. The Indiana media, including the Indy Star, and WTHR keeping track of things as well.

Rodenbush was nice enough to have about a 45-minute chat during an airport layover, as he was flying to Washington, D.C. for the college media convention MediaFest25. Instead of hearing ABOUT Rodenbush, we thought it would be better to hear FROM Rodenbush, allowing him to walk everyone through what he has gone through this week.

Below is part one of a transcription of our Q and A, with edits to the material to tighten and clarify parts of our discussion, as well as make more sense of my questions, which somehow Rodenbush understood among the many Midwestern “Yeah… Yeah… No…” interjections I put in there.

I don’t even know where the hell to start, I’ll be real honest with you, but can you give me a sense of what the last week has been like? Start me off with (Monday), the day before you got fired.

JIM RODENBUSH: “Literally, nothing happened on Monday. Not a word about anything.”

“It was Tuesday morning that I went to go get my IU fleet vehicle because I was going to drive to DC, my reservation was still active, and so I’m like, ‘Well, that’s good.’ So then I get to work, and then I learned about the email that my editors had sent, either like the night before or that day. And I didn’t actually see the email, but my general understanding was it was one of those, like, ‘Hey, we know what you’re wanting us to do. We have a print publication coming up this week. We’d kind of like for you to roll that back.’”

“So, I knew that that email had been sent, so I was thinking, I’m going to email my supervisor, the Director of Public Media, and just remind him that I’m going to be out of town the rest of the week. I sent that email to him, and then I did, just did a bunch of things to get ready to not be in the office. Around 12:30, I got an email from a human resources representative at the IU level, telling me that I needed to be in a meeting with her and (Dean) David (Tolchinsky) at 4:30 that afternoon.”

“And I wish I had connected the dots. I swear to you that, in my brain, the idea (of being fired) was a possibility. But I wasn’t locked into that, because I had literally just learned about the editors’ email. Every time, the IDS editors said anything to anybody upstairs, I had to go into a meeting to explain journalism to them. So, I just thought that maybe this whole, ‘We need you to roll this back, or else,’ email the students sent led to this situation escalating.”

“But I was wrong.”

“I did reply to the human resources person asking for clarification that maybe, could you let me know about an agenda? Could you maybe let me know what’s going on so I could be prepared? And she wrote back that David had concerns he wanted to share. So, I knew I wasn’t going to get an answer, but that’s standard reply. So, I just continue getting ready to leave town because I was scheduled to drive to Washington (Wednesday) morning.”

“When 4:30 came, I went to the meeting, and I made small talk with the HR representative. I saw that she was from the St Louis area, so we talked St Louis for a couple minutes, and then David showed up, and he began with, ‘This is going to be an uncomfortable meeting.’ Then he just read from the termination letter. That’s it. He just read from the termination letter.”

“When he was done, my response was, ‘Is that it?’ And then the human resources person, on the spot, collected my keys, collected my IU ID, told me I had to be escorted from the building and that my personal belongings would be sent to me. She also said that I needed also hand over my IU laptop, but my IU laptop was at home because I was packed to leave. So, I had I had to drive in my IU rental that I already picked up over to my apartment to pick up the laptop and then drive back to campus to give this HR representative my laptop and the IU rental keys.”

 

Given the way you were fired and then removed from campus, were you also given any ultimatum about not talking to the kids at the IDS or any of the staff? Were you told not to reach out or were the kids told to shun you or anything?

JIM RODENBUSH: “I wasn’t given any, ‘Stay away from campus’ statement. I wasn’t getting any ‘Don’t talk to anyone’ thing. I have a daughter who is an IU student, so the whole time I’m processing being fired, I was in the back of my brain thinking, ‘If you tell me I can’t talk to students, that might be a little weird.’ But there was (no demand regarding communication). I have been in communication with the students, and the professional staff. I stayed in touch with everybody.”

“What’s funny is that I went back on campus and the public media outlet called me for an interview, and they said they wanted to put me on camera. And I said to the guy, ‘You want me to go into the into the TV building?’ And they’re like, ‘Yeah!’ I’m like, ‘Are you sure?’ They were like, ‘Yeah! If they say anything to us, we’ll just pitch a fit.’”

 

The day after you get fired, the second shoe drops and the Media School folks announce that they’re killing the print edition. Every indication I’ve gotten from anything I’ve seen is that the special print editions were making money, so what does this decision really say about the school’s motives here?

JIM RODENBUSH: “This proves that this was never about money, because you have effectively killed a massive amount of revenue-generating opportunities at this time. You’ve also done severe damage to the IDS’s relationship with the housing community, a big collective of advertisers. So much of my advertising director’s foothold that he has made here has to do with some of the print products that are produced. And so, you have made his job both harder and easier in a weird way. You just eliminated half of the half of his work. That’s the easier part. The harder part is you have eliminated massive revenue opportunities. So, this was never about money, and I think that their actions prove it.”

 

I still can’t figure out why the school wanted to do all of this to the IDS. I never got a sense that there was a particular like moment of, “Well, you guys ran X story, so we’re coming after you.” It just kind of seemed like there was this overwhelming push to get rid of true reporting overall. Am I reading this situation right?

JIM RODENBUSH: “I was not aware of any particular story that caused this situation to accelerate. We had an update this semester on (accusations that the IU president plagiarized parts of her doctoral dissertation). The story that ran was really good, but it was nothing more than kind of an update on where we are right now. It wasn’t anything particularly scandalous or something that people didn’t know. Otherwise, I’m not aware of anything problematic.”

“Almost every media outlet is asking a version of this question because it’s rational. The immediate thought is, ‘What are they trying to squash?’ Or ‘What story are they trying to prevent from coming out?’ And there’s nothing. This just appears to be about the media school not wanting traditional newspapers on the newsstands anymore.”

 

Maybe my brain is going in the wrong direction, but by saying, “Get rid of the print edition,” the Media School basically made it so that everything is digital and their actions are drawing way more attention than anything that could run in the print publication. I guess the simple question is:  What is their beef with print? 

JIM RODENBUSH: “I would be speculating, because through all of this, I’ve never been in these meetings. I told people that a lot of my job toward the end was middle management. I simply took orders from the media school administration and did what I could do with them. I was not in the room when these things were being talked about.”

“So I’m lacking even some sort of explanation as to the motivation behind this. The general idea has just been, ‘We need to transform to digital, and we need to eliminate prints, and we need to coincide with the real world.’ That’s been the message, and that’s hard to take, because, of course, newspapers are still being printed, and we had already transformed the digital first.”

“Newspapers are a lot like malls. The general idea is that malls are dead, but if you go to certain communities, the malls thriving. It’s not a black and white kind of thing. And when it comes to the printed newspaper, it all depends on your community, and it all depends on your audience.”

“We were down to a weekly paper, but we still had an audience for that. We still had pickup rates. We still had a strong print audience, particularly in the general business area that’s right off campus. We couldn’t keep the paper on the stands. So, them saying, ‘You must get rid of print’ was a sweeping order that still doesn’t make any sense to me, because if it’s about money, then why would you halve your revenue?”

 

In looking back to the discussions we had last year, when the school was launching its media plan, I remember several of the folks involved being on a radio show, talking about money. Your editor said, “It costs us 60 grand to print and we’re making 90 grand on the deal, so we’re making money,” something (an administrator) disputed without being able to support his disagreement. Tell me, based on your experience, was the paper was making money as a standalone product? 

JIM RODENBUSH: The paper alone as a standalone product, debits and credits, looking at a spreadsheet, it’s in the black. The cuts that we made, I’m comfortable saying that the savings we actually realized from the spring was possibly $20,000 by printing seven times instead of weekly.”

 

By cutting print, they cut the revenue, but not all of the costs associated with running the whole operation. I mean, you still have expenses like payroll, web stuff, travel and all that. I guess the question then becomes, what other revenue streams does the IDS have that will help meet all those expenses?

JIM RODENBUSH: “You’ve got professional staff there that are working, that are still getting paid, and they’re still getting benefits. You’ve got the students still getting paid. So, salary is part of the process. And as everyone with experience knows, you don’t sell digital advertising at the same rates that you do print advertising. I don’t see an immediate replacement for what amounts to half of the revenue.”

“The blanket response has always been, ‘Think innovatively! Think new ways! Think enterprise!’ and that’s great to say, but in in reality, you’re still operating in Bloomington, Indiana.  It is a wonderful town, but it’s still a midsized town in southern Indiana. There’s only so much money available there and (the ad manager) has done a wonderful job in the advertising community, building relationships all by himself, and making more money than I would ever would have expected. But now, he can only sell a certain thing, and there are going to be people that won’t be interested in that. So, he’s really been given a difficult task at this point. And you can piecemeal some things that could bring in additional money but cutting print? That was a tremendous amount of money that you just let walk away.”

“A homecoming section that was supposed to print today was sold, and so, they’re going to have to refund people. It’s not just this issue, but the other three that were scheduled for this year. We have health and religious directories in these printed products, and these people aren’t going to want to go online, so all these things are going to have to be refunded.”

 

NEXT: Part II

An Open Letter to The IU Media School: Please spare us your bullshit and leave the Indiana Daily Student alone

The top of the IDS’s letter explaining how the university killed print.

(EDITOR’S NOTE: Sage has always asked me to avoid any “unnecessary cursing” on the blog, as it tends to offend the sensibilities of some delicate readers. I promised I’d only use “necessary cursing,” and today it’s called for. Sorry, guys.)

Dear Dean David Tolchinsky and the rest of the administration at the IU Media School,

You have made it clear over the past several years, and even more so over the past few days, that you have absolutely no idea how journalism, student media or the First Amendment work, or that you don’t care about these things.

Either way, nobody is buying your bullshit anymore.

The decision to demand students not print news in the Homecoming edition, then fire adviser Jim Rodenbush when he would not force this upon students and then kill all printing 24 hours later in response to the editors’ concerns has drawn negative attention from all corners of the country. The Student Press Law Center and Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression both condemned your actions. News outlets across the state and beyond are digging into this situation. Even the alumni aren’t happy.

Free press and editorial freedom can’t be a “when we feel like it” thing, or else you are supporting neither a free press nor any editorial freedom. I’m not even sure your chancellor gets this, based on his most recent statement:

“Indiana University Bloomington is firmly committed to the free expression and editorial independence of student media,” IU Bloomington Chancellor David Reingold said in a statement. “The university has not and will not interfere with their editorial judgment.”

“In support of the Media School and implementation of their Action Plan, the campus is completing the shift from print to digital effective this week,” he continued. “To be clear, the campus’ decision concerns the medium of distribution, not editorial content. All editorial decisions have and will continue to rest solely with the leadership of IDS and all IU student media. We uphold the right of student journalists to pursue stories freely and without interference.”

OK, but see, you all actually DID interfere with editorial judgment when the powers-that-be demanded that no news content be placed into the homecoming edition. Furthermore, you made it clear that you WERE trying to censor by having two editions: One on campus for the alumni that was filled with only unicorns and rainbows and Homecoming parades, and another one for the city that would be allowed to wrap a news section around it.

The IDS quotes Assistant Dean Ron McFall essentially saying that the school knew this was censorship and interference:

“How do we frame that, you know, in a way that’s not seen as censorship?” Ron McFall, assistant dean of strategy and administration at the Media School, asked in that meeting.

And Dave, you can’t throw this guy under the bus with a “poor choice of words” or “one bad apple” thing, given what people know about you and your approach to student media. People at IU know that you are “clueless” about the First Amendment and you “don’t know the first thing about journalism,” to quote a non-student source close to the IU situation.

A source also relayed a story about one of your first encounters with the IDS upon your appointment as dean. The paper had written an editorial that had ruffled some feathers and you were confused about your power over the situation.

“He wanted to know why he couldn’t just make them apologize,” the source said.

You have tried your damnedest to frame this issue as one of finance, and finance alone, because this is the best defense you have against your indefensible actions. Even if the IDS students and the rest of us who understand how media works were to grant you this premise, which we don’t, dozens of examples of censorship through financial means exist in student media. Trust me, I’ve researched this a bit.

If money were the motivating factor, there would be no reason for killing off ALL print editions, including those special ones you were so excited to force the kids to produce. In their letter from the editors, Mia Hilkowitz and Andrew Miller explained that you now refuse to let them publish the homecoming edition, which fit the bill of what say you wanted, namely a special issue that turns a sizeable profit.

In addition, the editors have pointed out that the three issues that the IDS produced to this point have turned a five-figure profit, that the IDS has advertising contracts for future publications and has contracts for advertising to be placed on public-facing news stands where the print edition is distributed.

Those things all sound like money to me, and any reasonable human being who understands how money works. And if you’re worried about money, maybe you shouldn’t piss off IU alumnus billionaire and donor Mark Cuban, who also is not happy about this situation.

The problem with all of this is that you can’t un-ring the bell. Bringing Rodenbush back or opening the door to printing won’t solve the underlying problem: A complete lack of trust between the IDS and this administration. The students aren’t stupid, so they know that anything you do right now will only be to shut people like me up for the moment. Once you feel we’ve moved on and the outrage has died down, you’ll pull another stunt like this and the cycle will start all over again.

The only solution is the simplest one: Quit. Leave. Go away.

And take your band of merry administrators with you, who apparently have no interest in actual journalism and actually have “neutered the reporting curriculum,” to quote a source. I’m sure you’ll all land on your feet at some nice, private college where they’ll overpay you to keep the kids in line as they write hard-hitting stories about a local dog named “Pooch” that barks at the campus squirrels.

In the mean time, maybe the chancellor can put his money where his mouth is and hire someone capable of restoring the IDS to its previous state as a venerable, formidable journalistic enterprise.

Sincerely,

Vince (a.k.a. The Doctor of Paper)

P.S. – No, I am not angling for your job, Dave. If this letter makes anything clear, I lack the bullshit-osity to be an administrator anywhere.

 

 

IU’s David Tolchinsky kills the print edition of the Indiana Daily Student, is clearly in over his head

THE LEAD: If anyone needed proof that IU Media School Dean David Tolchinsky doesn’t understand how media works, look no further than his Tuesday response to the leadership at the Indiana Daily Student.

In an email pursuant to the students’ explanation of how his demand that the paper run no news in its homecoming edition violated the IDS charter as well as the First Amendment, Tolchinsky decided it was time to kill the print run for the paper:

As you may recall, the Action Plan, which was endorsed by IU Bloomington campus leadership, outlines a shift from print to digital platforms. In support of the Action Plan, the campus has decided to make this shift effective this week, aligning IU with industry trends and offering experiential opportunities  more consistent with digital-first media careers of the future.

The aim is also to uphold the IDS charter—which establishes the IDS as a stand-alone financial entity with complete control over its editorial content—while addressing its structural deficit (subsidized by the campus) that has exceeded several hundred thousand dollars annually.

BACKGROUND: The IDS has been in some rough financial shape over the years, as we noted as far back as 2021. The paper had made significant cuts to the number of editions the paper would do each week and it shrunk other areas to stanch the bleeding.

The school was trying to find a way to make the paper profitable on its own, while also folding it into the school, something the students at the IDS resisted for a number of reasons, including the fear of censorship.

DOES YOU NO HOW MONEY WERKS?: Anyone who has spent any time in student media knows that there exists a balance point between reducing print to reduce cost and cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face. In the case of the IDS, the existence of a print edition guaranteed certain tangible and intangible benefits, which Tolchinsky either doesn’t know about, doesn’t care about or is too dumb to understand.

(A friend told me that Tolchinsky literally “clueless about journalism. He doesn’t know the first thing about journalism.”)

In a 2024 media appearance, then-Co-EIC Jacob Spudich outlined how the costs of the paper at that time were about $60K while it was earning back approximately $90K. The paper earned revenue not just for the ads placed in the publication itself, but also for the advertising placed on the paper’s distribution racks.

Furthermore, the paper edition tended to be more well-read in the broader Bloomington community, helping draw more readers and a more robust audience for potential advertisers. In killing the print edition, the racks go away, so the paper isn’t as visible in the community or as profitable, as the ad revenue associated with those racks will go away as well.

In addition, newspapers don’t sell ads on a day-by-day basis. Most publications sign contracts that spread the ad sales out over a protracted period of time, allowing advertisers to build campaigns of their choosing. The email the IDS editorial leadership sent to Tolchinsky makes this clear:

Our advertisers have already signed on for our fall editions, and we worry that disrupting our print product mid-semester will break our agreements with them. As the IDS aims to address our deficit, changing our print publications — which have already generated nearly $11,000 in profit over three editions this semester — works against this goal and will only further harm us.

So, how much money would the IDS have to fork over to refund any prepaid ads related to issues Tolchinsky now won’t run, and how much would it cost if the advertisers were to sue IU for force of non-performance? Someone call a contract lawyer. I’ll wait.

YOU HIT A NERVE. KEEP GOING: This is what I used to tell student journalists when they found themselves dealing with an angry source or a group of people who were making some noise on a topic they covered. It’s pretty clear that this is happening here:

My favorite, however, was when a friend pointed out that Tolchinsky has set his Twitter/X account to private.

(I requested he add me anyway. I doubt I’ll get through, but given the general level of aptitude he’s shown so far, I wouldn’t be surprised if he DMed me some war plans…)

There will be more time for reflection and updates coming soon.

BREAKING: IU Media School cuts Indiana Daily Student’s entire print edition less than 24 hours after firing the media director

File:Statue of Ernie Pyle at his desk in front of Franklin ...

If Ernie Pyle isn’t spinning in his grave like a frickin’ top, it’s only because he’s actively crawling out of it to come smack the hell out of the administration at the IU Media School.

 

THE LEAD: Less than one day after firing student media director Jim Rodenbush, the administration at IU’s Media School eliminated the print edition of the paper. Rodenbush and the students had pushed back against these actions, stating frequently it would damage the paper’s standing in the community and eliminate revenue opportunities based on physical distribution.

Media School Dean David Tolchinsky sent the order to IDS leadership in an email responding to its appeal that the school not censor the newspaper. And the dean attributed the decision to “the campus.” He has not yet responded to a message for clarification.

A letter from the editors is coming soon.

That email better have gone through a better vetting process than the letter used to fire Rodenbush, or at least have greater restraint in it than the language used in meetings that attempted to censor the students.

When the students publish, we’ll update.

 

“How do we frame that, you know, in a way that’s not seen as censorship?” The IU Media School Fired Student Media Director Jim Rodenbush For Not Censoring Student Media

THE SHORT, SHORT VERSION: David Tolchinsky, dean of the IU Media School, fired student media director Jim Rodenbush for refusing to violate the First Amendment rights of the Indiana Daily Student staffers.

The powers that be in the administrators in the school have been trying to force the IDS into a series of short-sighted moves that would both damn the paper to irrelevancy and undercut the students’ rights to self-governance.  

If you would like to speak up on Rodenbush’s behalf, please email Tolchinsky at: mschdean@iu.edu or call him at: 812-856-4513 to let him know you stand with Rodenbush and the students at the IDS, who could also use your support (ids@indiana.edu).

 

THE LONGER, MORE NUANCED VERSION: Jim Rodenbush, who had been the director of student media at IU since 2018, was summarily fired on Tuesday after he refused to tell the staff of the Indiana Daily Student what they should publish in the homecoming edition.

A formal termination letter, signed by Dean David Tolchinsky, was making the rounds on various media outlets late Tuesday night:

DOCTOR OF PAPER FLASHBACK: The media school spent more than a year trying to force all of its student media outlets to work together, as part of a “converged” model that everyone else in the media world has figured out can’t work. We covered the rigamarole that the IDS was facing around this time last year in our “Hostile Takeover” series. 

Multiple generations of student editors at the IDS were adamantly against this approach, as well as opposing the idea that the free and independent media outlets they ran were going to be kind of “folded into” the media school.

At the time, I’d been in contact with Rodenbush, who was more than polite in his refusal to crap all over this idea, telling me he had faith in the kids and was working within the system to keep the ship afloat.

 

THE STUDENTS SPEAK: If you ever wonder where all the guts in journalism has gone in today’s world of media giants folding like a cheap tent in the rain, look to student journalists.

In a blistering letter on the IDS website, co-EICs Mia Hilkowitz and Andrew Miller explained exactly what happened to Rodenbush, bringing the receipts with them. In pulling quotes from emails and multiple meetings, they outlined the brazen attempts of the administration to force the students to bend to the school’s whims:

Telling us what we can and cannot print is unlawful censorship, established by legal precedent surrounding speech law on public college campuses.

Administrators ignored Rodenbush, who said he would not tell us what to print or not print in our paper. In a meeting Sept. 25 with administrators, he said doing so would be censorship.

“How do we frame that, you know, in a way that’s not seen as censorship?” Ron McFall, assistant dean of strategy and administration at the Media School, asked in that meeting.

Not to put too fine of a point on this, but if you have to ask how to “frame” something so that it doesn’t look like censorship, you’re committing censorship and you damned well know it.

And the students know it too:

IU will attempt to frame this censorship as a step toward a balanced budget. The IDS, along with the Student Press Law Center and Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press, see it very differently.

“The Media School’s order limiting the Indiana Daily Student’s print edition to homecoming coverage isn’t a ‘business decision’ — it’s censorship,” the Student Press Law Center said in a statement to the IDS. “This disregards strong First Amendment protections and a long-standing tradition of student editorial independence at Indiana University.”

If administrators disregard our rights as student journalists now, what will stop them from prohibiting the IDS from publishing certain stories on our website and social media, should they deem it appropriate?

 

AN ALUMNUS SPEAKS: In looking for Tolchinsky’s contact information on the IU Media School website, I came across a familiar face in the “Proud Alumni” section of the site.

Andy Hall is a 1982 graduate of the IU journalism program and former editor of the IDS, and we worked together for a bit at the Wisconsin State Journal. The media school gave him a well-deserved write up, where he discussed the foundation of Wisconsin Watch, an investigative journalism outlet here in the Badger State.

I’m not sure if IU full grasps the irony that the Media School is literally championing a free and independent media outlet, founded by a relentless investigative journalist, at the same time it’s trying to undermine the place that helped launch his career.

(SIDE NOTE: Here is my best Andy Hall story. Every year, staffers at the WSJ were assigned a high school graduation to cover as part of their duty to civic journalism. Andy’s assignment coincided with a planned trip back to IU for a reunion of some sort, so he hit me up to ask if I could cover for him that weekend.

Andy explained that not only would I get paid for the work time and mileage, but that he’d kick in a six-pack of some Indiana beer and a bucket of Tell City Pretzels as a pot sweetener. After I agreed to do that, word got around the newsroom pretty quickly that the college kid could be bribed into taking your graduation story gig if you ponied up some free beer. I think I wrote like 10 or 12 grad stories that year and had the best beer fridge of anyone my age.)

I got a hold of Andy late Tuesday night and filled him in on the situation, asking what a guy who cut his teeth at the IDS thought of the school’s actions. He didn’t mince words:

“As a former editor-in-chief of the Indiana Daily Student, I am deeply disturbed by this apparent attempt to censor the decisions of its student editors. The IDS charter specifies that ‘final editorial responsibility for all content rests with the chief student editors or leaders.

“I hope that the Media School leadership finds ways to work productively with the IDS editors to ensure that the student news organization retains the full independence granted by its charter. Ultimately, that journalistic independence is in the best interests of the school, the students and, most importantly, the public.”

I wonder whose profile the school will be taking down first, Jim’s or Andy’s?

DOCTOR OF PAPER HOT TAKE: This is what happens when you train great student journalists and then try to play them for fools. The level of ham-handed stupidity involved in not just what was done, but how openly it was discussed in various meetings where journalism folk were present makes some of the Watergate stuff look nuanced by comparison.

I mean, even the mob knows better than to talk about how they plan to whack a guy in terms this blatant.

As far as Rodenbush is concerned, he’ll be getting the red carpet treatment on a national stage, according to Mediafest 25 Convention Director Michael Koretzky:

Jim Rodenbush is coming to MediaFest. SPJ is paying his way.

Jim will be recognized during Friday’s keynote, and we hope to get video of the room applauding him – then make sure it gets back to campus. (Two IU TV students are attending MediaFest. Hopefully, they’ll record the moment along with the rest of us.)

If you’re coming to MediaFest, please say hello to Jim at Friday’s CMA/ACP reception and around the Grand Hyatt halls.

We have other things planned for Jim upon his arrival. SPJ president Emily Bloch is excited to host him, and SPLC’s Jonathan Falk will invite Jim to speak at one of his sessions. CMA leaders haven’t gotten back to me yet, but I’m sure they’re just as excited.

Let’s stand with and for Jim.

As for what’s next for the IDS, I’ve got an email in to Tolchinsky and his admin crew asking that question. I’ve also got emails in to the co-EICs to see if they want to fill me in on anything. In the name of full transparency, I did get one reply:

I don’t know about you, but I can practically hear Langosa’s sigh of relief in that message from here. If anything else comes through, I’ll update it here.

Looking ahead, I don’t know who is going to take the job next, as this is the second adviser in a row to get canned at IU under some really awkward circumstances. Hall of Fame media adviser Ron Johnson got removed, with the university arguing it was a financial situation while the students arguing that this was an attempt to censor the publication. When news of Rodenbush’s firing hit the College Media Association’s listserv, more than two dozen folks chimed in with messages of condolence for Rodenbush and some version of “This isn’t right.”

It’s out of pure, morbid curiosity that I want to see the job posting for whoever the hell IU thinks is going to saddle up for this gig.

In the mean time, please feel free to email Tolchinsky at: mschdean@iu.edu or call him at: 812-856-4513 to let him know if you disagree with this act of censorship. Also, please feel free to offer your support to the IDS staff (ids@indiana.edu), because they definitely deserve better than they getting, but they aren’t going down without a fight.

How to make things relevant for your readers when they no longer have shared, collective experiences

On this date in 1960, the Pittsburgh Pirates defeated the New York Yankees in Game 7 of the World Series on Bill Mazeroski’s ninth-inning walk-off home run.

To fully understand the gravity of the moment for many people living in that time, it’s instructive to listen to sports journalist Beano Cook’s assessment of the situation:

“If you grew up in Pittsburgh, the way I did, you remember where you were when heard F.D.R. died, when you heard about Pearl Harbor, when you heard the war ended and where you were when Mazeroski hit the homer.”

I’m sure not every human being on Earth had that kind of reaction to it, especially Yankees fans who considered World Series domination to be their birthright, but it does speak to the larger sense of how we once had a sense of shared moments in time.

During my life time, there have been a few of those “where were you” moments that stick in my head to this day. I remember being on the floor of my parents’ living room on that yellow shag carpeting in front of the old Admiral-brand TV we had when the Miracle on Ice occurred.

I remember being in the Doctoral Pit in Columbia, Missouri with several other former journos-turned-Ph.D.-students huddled around an old tube-style TV as we watched the towers collapse on Sept. 11, 2001. (I also remember having to go to a multi-variate statistics class, taught by an international grad student who had no idea what was going on. To this day, I still can’t figure out binomials.)

In today’s era of quick-hit social media, in which algorithms feed us more of what we want to see and isolate us from a wide array of viewpoints, I don’t know if shared cultural moments are possible for this generation, but the litmus test might be the shooting death of Charlie Kirk.

A recent analysis of what people thought about Kirk, his death and the person arrested on suspicion of shooting him found that social media created completely different worlds in which individuals learned about all of this. In addition, social media companies have removed a lot of the guardrails that were once considered crucial in eliminating factually incorrect content and tamping down rage.

As much as it seems like EVERYONE around me has an opinion on Kirk, his death and everything that’s wrong with the world today that led to it, I am still running into students who know nothing about any of this.

And I’m teaching in a media-based field where knowing what’s going on around you is kind of important.

Rather than going down the rabbit hole of whose values are better or what people don’t see thanks to self-feeding loops of social media destruction, I think it’s more important to realize that horse is out of the barn. What matters now is how we deal with it as journalists, give that most of our job is providing content to people in a way that’s relevant, useful and interesting to them.

Here are a few things to realize about the people out there consuming our content and how we need to serve it up differently for them:

NEVER ASSUME THEY KNOW ANYTHING: This seems a bit blunt and harsh, but we don’t all see the same news at 10 p.m. or read the same newspaper on the train ride into the city anymore. Just because people exist on X, Facebook, SnapChat, TikTok or Chorp, it doesn’t follow that they know anything we’re trying to talk about either.

Everything is individualized, so while my feed might be filled with calm, rational discussions about social policies in higher ed, the person right next to me might be learning that Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl appearance is part of a plot to explode the brains of ICE agents with a sound ray that will also turn undocumented migrants trans.

(We have the technology… You are just being kept in the dark about it. Read more about my inside information at the website http://www.areyoufrickinseriouslystupid.com)

What this essentially means is that we have to start from a position of less than zero to explain situations to our readers if we want them to get anything out of anything we are trying to tell them.

I used to tell students that 1-4 sentences of background was usually enough to catch people up on topics of interest. As much as that number might need to increase exponentially, it also needs to be counterbalanced against the minuscule attention span people have, so it’s going to be a fine line to walk.

This leads to the second point…

WRITE IT LIKE YOU’D WANT TO READ IT: The goal of most standard media writing is to get to the point immediately. The problem is that most people don’t write for others the way they want content sent to them in the realm of social media. That creates a massive disconnect we need to fix.

I did a study a few years back involving student journalists who were responsible for running social media for the media outlet. I asked them to rate a bunch of uses and gratifications they have for social media they received. In other words, what do you like that you get and how you get it from social media? I then asked them to outline the approach they took to sending social media to other people as a source from their media outlet.

The results? Almost zero overlap between what they considered “best practices” for social media they consume and the way they themselves provide it to other people. In most cases, they liked writing really long and involved stuff but they hated reading it. They also liked things to be quick and direct, but felt it necessary to avoid being that direct in their own work.

Studies of social media and its impact on the brain are mixed, but one discussion about the topic seemed to make the most sense to me. The writer basically said that social media exercises our brains in certain ways, so we not only get used to that, but the other aspects of our minds tend to atrophy a bit. The author compared it to “skipping leg day” at the gym but doubling up on core exercises: One part gets weaker while the others get stronger.

This kind of media consumption limits our ability to do the more strenuous mental work that non-social-media use requires. It also impacts our ability to create memories, so writing giant diatribes with six interweaving plot lines isn’t going to help the readers in any meaningful way. So, if we want to get across to the people, we need to build it in a way they’ll best understand it.

 

SELF-INTEREST IS OUR ONLY SALVATION:  If we have but one thing in common anymore, it is literally the interest we have in why something matters to us personally. If that’s all we have to go on, we’re going to need to saddle up that horse and ride it to death.

To be fair, some larger moments over the past 20 years only stick in my brain because I had a personal connection to them. The 2007 shooting at Virginia Tech mattered a great deal to me because I knew the media advisers at that papers and I had spoken to some student journalists from there at one point. I remember refreshing my email every 0.5 seconds, hoping for a response from a friend to tell me she was OK.

The Las Vegas shooting fell into a similar vein, in that my aunt and uncle were in Vegas at that point. I remember trying to teach a class and keeping an eye on text messages from my mom to tell me if my family members were safe.

And again, I’m PAID to be aware of larger issues that get a ton of media coverage, so if I’m falling down on this, I can’t imagine what it’s like to people who are learning nothing other than what TikTok feeds them.

At one place I worked, we used to require the students to finish the sentence “This matters because…” before they were allowed to start writing their stories. Bringing something like this back for all media writers, with a more direct version like “This matters to YOU, my reader, because…” might help us better focus our attention on the “how” and “why” elements of what we’re covering as we target the demographic, psychographic and geographic needs of our specific audience members.

We often have to remind students that they’re not writing for themselves, but rather the audience. Now, we might not only need to double down on that, but also make sure they have a full sense of who is out there and and a laser-like focus on making it relevant to them.

“Record everything, always, and apologize later, if need be.” (A throwback post)

Having a literal videographic memory would really, really come in handy sometimes… 

 

This post came to mind after an email exchange I had with an administrator last week. Not to get too into the weeds, but a crisis hit and I was being asked to do something in exchange for a benefit of my choosing.

During a meeting, I got the verbal “OK, that’s fine,” with a promise I’d get something in writing shortly after. After a month or so, I hadn’t gotten the documentation or the benefit, so I made some inquiries.

Although things aren’t entirely settled, what bugged me the most was a line that an administrator wrote to me in an email: “I found no record that we promised (SAID BENEFIT).” 

At that point, I was reminded of the phrase I often tell students: “Record everything, always, and apologize later, if need be. In God we trust. Everyone else gets recorded.”

I’m not sure yet if I’ll be wiring my office like Nixon’s White House, but while I ponder that, here’s today’s throwback post, which looks at the issue of recording people, with or without their knowledge.

 

‘Can you?’ vs. ‘Should you?’ A secret recording of a Wisconsin government phone call that inspired five random thoughts for journalism students

In trying to explain ethics to my intro writing students, I often fall back on the line that, “Ethics basically deal with things that aren’t illegal, but can get you in a lot of trouble, anyway.” Another way we separate law and ethics is the line between, “Can I do X?” vs. “Should I do X?”

This concept came into focus in a strange way last week, as Wisconsin continued to put the “fun” in “dysfunction” at the state government level:

MADISON – Republican legislative leaders lashed out Wednesday at Democratic Gov. Tony Evers after his staff secretly recorded a May 14 phone conversation over how to respond to the coronavirus pandemic the day after the state Supreme Court struck down the state’s stay-at-home order.

The recording and the reaction to it all but ensures a permanently broken relationship between Evers and Republicans who control the Legislature. The two sides have rarely gotten along since Evers was elected in 2018 and Wednesday’s episode was characterized by GOP leaders as unprecedented.

Republicans referred to the recording effort as “Nixonesque,” referring to former Republican President Richard Nixon’s desire to record everything involving him at the White House. I’m uncertain if this is irony, self-loathing behavior or something just randomly laughable, but I’m at a loss for words while watching a Republican use the name of a former two-term (almost) president as an insult. I guess I’m also pretty sure that the relationship between Evers and the Republicans was permanently shattered like Waterford Crystal thrown off the top of the Empire State Building waaaaaaay before this incident.

In any case, here are a few random thoughts for journalism students that don’t delve into the political grandstanding in this case that makes soccer “injuries” look honest by comparison:

 

THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN PUBLIC ANYWAY: Bill Lueders, president of the Wisconsin Freedom of Information Council, made the best point about this situation. Why the hell was this a “private phone call” among three key governmental officials?

(Lueders) said recording a conversation without alerting the other parties isn’t illegal in this state, but is in bad form — and that the nature of the meeting should have pushed the three to talk publicly instead of privately.

“I wouldn’t do that as a journalist, to record someone without them knowing,” Lueders said. “On the other hand, I don’t know what would have been said in that meeting that needed to be kept private.”

Maybe if this is a public meeting, none of this becomes an issue in the first place. Sunlight is said to be the best disinfectant, and it would appear to be so in this case.

 

RECORD EVERYTHING, BUT BE HONEST: According to the numerous accounts I’ve read, Richard Nixon was paranoid as hell and believed people were always out to screw him over. If you have spent any time as a reporter in this day and age, I bet Tricky Dick starts making a little more sense in that regard.

I can’t tell you how many times I have written something I got from a source, quoted a source or provide information I got about a source, only to have the person who gave me that information tell me I was wrong. And I did most of my work before the era of people in power calling everything they don’t like “fake news.”

Thus, my advice to students? “Record everything.”

That said, recording is one of those key areas where law and ethics diverge. The majority of the states in the U.S. operate under one-party consent. This means that if you are on a phone call with another person, you may record it legally without letting that other person know. The others have some version of two-party consent, which means BOTH parties on the call must know and agree to the recording before it happens. (You can read more on your state’s rules and what happens if your recording across state lines etc. here.)

The law says, “Record them all. Let God sort them out.” Ethics, however, would dictate that secretly recording people kind of undermines trust, as Lueders pointed out. This is why I always tell the students to be up front about their recording. Tell the source, “I would like to record this interview. Is that a problem?” In most cases, sources will be fine with it.

Some folks will be reticent, so I tell the students to explain WHY they want to record the interview: “I want to make sure I don’t make a mistake,” or “I want to be sure the quotes are accurate,” or “I want to protect both of us.” However, the students want to explain it is fine, but at the end of the day, it’s about having a permanent record of what occurred so if the stuff hits the fan, and suddenly everyone is pulling a “Shaggy” on this situation, you have a complete record of what happened.

 

STILL, WATCH OUT FOR YOU FIRST: I totally get why the person recorded the conversation: The Evers administration and the Republicans out here who will rule the assembly in perpetuity, thanks to gerrymandering the likes of which we’ve never seen before, are constantly in a bombastic struggle to define “truth” for the public. I’ll read one story one day and think, “OK, they’re doing X” only to read the next day some recasting of the situation that makes me think it was a dream.

In the end, if you know someone’s going to try to screw you, get a permanent record of reality.

Honestly, I’ve recorded people without their knowledge. I don’t say this with a great deal of pride, but this is what happens when you run a crime beat in an area where people felt no compunction about calling you up to scream at you about coverage. After I almost got smoked once, I considered it an insurance policy.

The first time this happened, a person called the main desk at the newspaper, asking to talk to the person in charge of crime stuff. The staffer sent the person to me, and the caller spent at least five minutes screaming at me about a story we ran. It turns out her kid/brother/friend/whatever was “illegally arrested” (a phrase I still love to this day) and what we wrote needed to be retracted RIGHT NOW.

After mentioning places that I could put my head, which defied the laws of physics, and questioning the lineage of my parents, this woman was not happy with my decision not to acquiesce to her demands. She wanted to speak to my boss.

I gave her his number and he got a much different treatment: A lot of “sir” mentions and some polite questions and so forth. She mentioned how horrible I was and how I said horrible and unspeakable things to her. Of course, my boss brought me in to ask me about this. He bought my version of events, but I swore it would be the last “he said/she said” thing I dealt with at that paper.

I hooked up a tape recorder to the phone and kept it at the ready. When I got the next call transferred, questioning my approach to crime news, I recorded it. After my boss got the complaint about me, I offered to let him listen to the recording. Eventually, that became our routine:

Him: “I got a complaint that you were horrible to (SOMEONE) who was complaining about (WHATEVER I DID).”
Me: “Uh… No… Would you like to hear the recording of the call?”
Him: “Fair enough…”

Still, the most important moment of recording I can recall came when I was an adviser at Ball State University. The school was in the middle of a provost search when one of the three candidates pulled out. The remaining two candidates were relatively polarizing: The president clearly favored one and the faculty and staff favored the other.

Just to back up her notes, the reporter borrowed my recorder for the phone call with the president. She asked the obvious question if the president had planned to restart the search. I can still remember to this day hearing the reporter as, “Is that even an option in your mind?”

The answer was no. We have two qualified candidates and we’re moving forward.

That was the story we ran, and then all hell broke loose.

Faculty were outraged, figuring they were going to get screwed, so they started talking. The president, clearly not wanting this to be a mess, decided the best thing to do was throw the newspaper under the bus.

She issued a statement via email to faculty and staff that basically said, “Look, the kids at the newspaper try really hard, but they’re kids and they screw up stuff. I never said we wouldn’t restart this. In fact, that’s what I’m doing right now. So, relax and don’t worry about the mistakes of children.”

Her problem was, we had it recorded. She didn’t know.

To be fair, the student SHOULD have told her we were recording her, and that was a lesson we made clear in the post-game analysis with the reporter. Thus, we gave the president a chance to do the right thing. The editor-in-chief called her and told her that she made us look stupid and that we were asking for a retraction. We’d let it go if she fessed up. She immediately went back to her talking points about the reporter screwing up and how this happens with cub reporters and how she wasn’t mad, but she had to set the record straight.

At that point, he let the cat out of the bag. She paused, said some unprintable things and then asked, “Are you recording me now?”

I remember thinking, “No, but I wish we were…”

In the end, she held firm. We ran her email alongside a transcript of the phone call along with an editorial on the whole thing. She was displeased, but that was on her. If the primary complaint someone has about you recording them is that you’ll report exactly what they said and they don’t like what they said, I have very little sympathy for them.

This leads to the next point…

 

IT’S NOT OUR FAULT YOU’RE A DIPSTICK: The reason we know about this recording in the first place is because the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel put in an open records request for everything associated with a coronavirus meeting between the two sides. Once they asked for everything, including recordings of the meeting, the recording came to light.

(Good side note: In open-records requests, ask for stuff that MIGHT exist, even if you don’t think it does. You might get lucky. In this request, the reporter apparently asked for any recordings of the meeting when requesting documents from Vos as well and got nothing because he didn’t record anything. The request sent to Evers yielded the tape. Short version: It never hurts to ask for stuff.)

Evers did the right thing in turning over the file, even though I’m sure he really didn’t want to. It had to be like that scene in “Silence of the Lambs” when the moth flies out of the basement and basically the killer knew he was screwed. The game was over at that point, and he basically had to brace for impact.

The recording was what I would have expected of divorced parents who were forced into a dinner with their kid at graduation: A lot of people talking past one another, some pointed jabs and the essential “How much longer must we endure this fool?” vibe. One thing that did pop up as a story was Assembly Speaker Robin Vos blaming immigrants for the coronavirus:

MADISON – Assembly Speaker Robin Vos blamed the culture of immigrant populations for a coronavirus outbreak in Racine County, according to a secret recording of his meeting last month with Gov. Tony Evers.

“I know the reason at least in my region is because of a large immigrant population where it’s just a difference in culture where people are living much closer and working much closer,” the Rochester Republican said of an outbreak in Racine County.

Of course, Vos didn’t like the story that pointed this out and tried to move the discussion back to how shameful Evers was for recording the call. He also tried to spin this to make it about how he had a deep concern for people of color who were disproportionately suffering the effects of the virus.

(Hang on… I’m dealing with the vertigo caused by that spin… OK… Phew…)

At the end of the day, neither group looks good and Vos has to deal with what would appear to every Latino group the MJS contacted as a dog-whistle, anti-immigrant blame-fest.

What’s important to remember, however, if you record something as a journalist and someone says something stupid, it’s not your fault.

This is one of the few cases where people aren’t blaming journalists, because the journalist didn’t make the recording. Vos comes the closest, in accusing the paper of not keeping its eye on the ball with the whole “Nixon-esque” recording. However, usually, in a story in which someone records something (telling the source or not) and it turns out the source says something horrible, the outrage is more over the recording or the choice to run the story than it is the horrible thing the person said.

It shouldn’t be, and you shouldn’t feel bad about it.

Your job is to report the facts, getting as close as you can to the purity of truth, in an attempt to inform your readers of something important. Rarely are those revelations something pretty and happy, so someone will be upset.

If a state rep or a city council member or a school board president says something offensive about race, gender, sexual-orientation, socio-economic status or some dude named Chad’s little brother, and you think your readers need to know about it, that’s called editorial discretion. Use it to guide you in your choices.

ALWAYS ASK, “IS THE JUICE WORTH THE SQUEEZE?”: In looking at ethical behavior, I sometimes find myself being a pragmatist more than I would like. Still, that’s because I know I have to live in the real world and not in an ivory tower, subsisting on creeds and mottoes. What I “can” do versus what I “should” do often comes down to a weighing of my options and examination of the ramifications.

(This situation is weird, in that the journalists didn’t make recording, so whatever they picked out of the open record was less on them than it was on the person making the comments and the staffer who recorded it.)

If I record a source, and the source knows the information is on the record, and the source knows I’m recording it, I pretty much have carte blanche to do as I see fit. That’s where editorial discretion comes in. What am I trying to do here?

If I run a story based on one part of an hour-long interview that makes a long-time and trusted source look bad, will I be cutting off my nose to spite my face? Probably. Some folks would say that ethics demand the unveiling of any ill that could showcase the true nature of public figures. Others would say that, short of watching that source kill a guy, you’re not ratting him out because sources like that are hard to find.

This is where I spend more time bean-counting than I might otherwise like. Is one flashy story worth not getting another story again from this source? Is my ability to tell people important things, thanks largely to this source, going to be undermined by me taking a shot across the bow at this guy? Am I protecting a person I shouldn’t be protecting, primarily because he makes me job easier?

This is why journalists who have ethics tend to drink like fish and chew Xanax like Tic-Tacs.

As a journalist, what you do is up to you (and to that extent, your publication/boss/editor/whomever runs the show), so you need to decide for yourself if the juice is worth the squeeze.

Consider the Source: Four Key Things to Keep In Mind When Deciding Whom to Interview

… but I’m gonna quote you anyway!

One of my favorite stories about source credibility came from Jim Bouton’s classic book, “Ball Four.”

Bouton is explaining a situation where a first baseman is coming in to catch a pop fly, yelling “I GOT IT!” repeatedly. Instead of getting out of the way, the pitcher comes flying in and runs the guy over, which lets the ball drop and the batter reach safely.

Bouton then yells to the irate first baseman from the dugout, “(The pitcher) had to consider the source!”

The point, obviously, is that the value of a message is almost directly in proportion to the quality of the source. This is something we need to keep in mind when picking out our subjects for interviews.

Here are four simple things to consider when deciding whom you should interview when you are picking sources for a story:

DOES THIS SOURCE ACTUALLY KNOW ANYTHING?: This might seem like the dumbest start to a post like this, but if the sources in “localization” and “reaction” stories are any indication, this bears consideration. These kinds of stories are among the least popular ones for reporters who absolutely hate having to interact with an increasingly ignorant general population.

It also doesn’t help that we tend to find ourselves asking these people to give us their innermost thoughts on everything from the deployment of U.S. troops on U.S. soil to the decreasing size and quality of funnel cakes at county fairs. The “just do this and get it over with” attitude can really take over.

This can get even worse as we get lazier and do the “Let’s see what the 14 loudest idiots on social media had to say about this topic” and just do screen shots of their Twitter posts before we call it a day.

That said, it’s important to push back on this instinct and really try to figure out if the source actually can add something to the sum of human knowledge. You don’t need to give them a 20-question exam to see if they have an expansive knowledge of presidential powers vis a vis the Posse Comitatus Act, but at the very least see if they ate a funnel cake before letting them complain about it.

KNOW WHY YOU ARE PICKING A SOURCE: Journalism is often learned by sharing among the collective knowledge within an organization. That can be good in some cases, as older reporters can help younger ones learn from the mistakes of yesteryear. In other cases, it’s bad because you find yourself with a narrowing perspective on how things should work.

This is often true when it comes to picking subjects to interview. When I didn’t know who would help me by providing important information and quotes, I’d often ask the folks around me, “Who’s a good source for this?” The names I got back became the sources and then they became part of my stories. The problem with this is that I never once thought about WHY this person was a good source.

Often the “best” sources were the ones most willing to talk, the easiest to reach or who generally “played ball” with the newspaper. These folks often liked seeing their names in the paper and they made it simple for us to get our job done. It was a symbiotic relationship, but maybe not a good one. In retrospect, I often wonder if I was just taking the path of least resistance and not helping my readers as much as I should have.

When picking a source, ask yourself why that source is a good pick. If someone suggests a source, ask that person why the source is good in that person’s mind. If the source meets your needs and avoids problematic concerns, you should be in good shape. If the answer is, “They always get back to us right away,” think a bit more about that choice.

AVOID “POTSHOT PAULIES” IN YOUR WORK:  You need to think about if the source is actually giving you anything other than a self-serving chunk of content that doesn’t really do much for you or your readers. Instead, they decide to take a potshot at a topic of their choosing and you let them get away with it.

I pulled this quote a long time ago during an election cycle and it seems to be emblematic of what I’ve seen in so many political stories:

So, in other words, the person didn’t really answer a question, didn’t give you any real information and you decided the best way to deal with that was to give them the opportunity to use you as a megaphone for their own point of view on a random topic of their choice?

I wish I could get away with that stuff in my job:

Filak refused to comment on the allegations he was selling grades for money, but instead leveled a criticism of his choosing.

“People are worried that the McRib won’t be available all year round,” he said. “This is disastrous for all people on planet Earth and this is where the focus of all humankind should be right now, dammit!” 

If the person isn’t giving you anything of value to your readers, don’t give them a chance to use you to do whatever they want.

ARE THEY ALL SIZZLE, NO STEAK?: We often talk about people who are “good quotes” with the idea that they’re verbose and they usually give us more than the boring cliches that seem to populate most content. We like the turns of phrases they made and the way in which they approach the content.

We had a chancellor one year who was just gifted at weaving prose together into a tapestry of verbiage that would make Aristotle and Shakespeare look like Beavis and Butthead in terms of communication. However, when we would actually look at what was said, we realized there was absolutely no information in the quotes themselves. They sounded great at the time and they had big, important-sounding words in them, but at the end of the day, it was just a whole lotta nothing.

Part of that is our fault for not actively listening and holding people to account for their words. Another part is that we keep going to the same people and expecting different results. If the quotes aren’t doing more than looking fancy and yet signifying nothing, consider another source.

Still Stuck on Flo: When profile writing focuses more on the writer than the subject (A Throwback Post)

When this post originally ran, the comments went one of two ways:

  1. Thank you for this, because every student I have thinks they should write like this and I’ve yet to be able to disabuse them of this notion.
  2. Your criticism lacks merit because your standards make it impossible to write a magazine-style feature. If you had your way, everything would just be paraphrase-quote, paraphrase-quote with a news lead on top.

The first view is fine, but I’d argue a great deal with the second one. There are plenty of amazing profiles, features and longer pieces that are fantastic reads without devolving into the self-important mess that is discussed below.

As an example, here’s one I frequently use in the feature-writing class that is lengthy, detailed and well sourced all without mentioning Tostito’s Hint of Lime Flavored Triangles, having a reporter beg for caviar or using a “That’s One To Grow On” conclusion.

(I’ve got others if you think I just like this one because of the sports angle, including one on a fallen city council member, a photo editor who makes ugly people stunning and beautiful people perfect and a reality TV star who is trapped in a tabloid spiral of her own making.)

Since it’s been a couple years, I wanted to bring this back to see if the mood in the field has changed about it, my critique or what profiles should be in the age of AI. Let me know what you think in the comments below:

 

A Lack of Flo: A look at what can go wrong with an over-the-top approach to profile writing

Read the following opening to a story and see if you can identify what it will be about without relying on an internet search:

One needn’t eat Tostitos Hint of Lime Flavored Triangles to survive; advertising’s object is to muddle this truth. Of course, Hint of Lime Flavored Triangles have the advantage of being food, which humans do need to survive. Many commodities necessitated by modern life lack this selling point. Insurance, for example, is not only inedible but intangible. It is a resource that customers hope never to need, a product that functions somewhat like a tax on fear. The average person cannot identify which qualities, if any, distinguish one company’s insurance from another’s. For these reasons and more, selling insurance is tricksy business.

Once you give up, or cheat, click this link and prepare to be amazed.

Aside from the headline that mentions the topic, it takes more than 270 words (or approximately double what you’ve read to this point) to get a mention of Flo, the insurance lady for Progressive, and her alter ego, Stephanie Courtney.

In chatting online with several journalists and journalism instructors, I found a variety of opinions on the piece and the style of the writer, Caity Weaver. Terms like “quirky” and “brilliant” came up, along with others such as  “obnoxious” and “painful.” To give the writer and the piece the benefit of the doubt, I waded through this 4,600-word tome twice. In the end, I ended up agreeing with the second set of descriptors, but also found myself considering terms others hadn’t, such as “well-reported” and “solidly sourced.”

I learned a lot about Courtney/Flo in the piece and it really did a lot of things that good profiles should do: Inform and engage; provide depth and context; rely on various sources. It also did some of the traditionally bad things we’ve discussed here before: rely on first person; get too into the weeds on certain things; write for yourself, not your audience.

However, here are a couple areas in which this profile reached new heights/depths of god-awfulness that had me reaffirming my general hatred in this “self-important-author” genre:

 

OBSERVATION GONE WEIRD: One of the crucial things we talk about in profile writing is the element of observation, with the goal of painting word pictures in minds of the readers. In this regard, details matter, although I wondered about this level of detailed analysis:

Since appearing in the first Flo spot in January 2008, Courtney has never been absent from American TV, rematerializing incessantly in the same sugar-white apron and hoar-frost-white polo shirt and cocaine-white trousers that constitute the character’s unvarying wardrobe.

I am the first to admit that I’m not a clothes horse and that I have trouble telling black from blue. That said, I’d love to know how the author manages to distinguish “sugar-white” from “hoar-frost-white” from “cocaine-white” when describing Flo’s outfit. (My best guesses include that she was paid by the compound modifier or had massively consumed one of those elements before writing this monstrosity.)

Then there was this exchange about a purse that wasn’t:

Her purse immediately caught my eye: It appeared to be an emerald green handbag version of the $388 “bubble clutch” made by Cult Gaia, the trendy label whose fanciful purses double as objets d’art. Courtney handed it to me while rattling off tips for extending the shelf life of fresh eggs. It was a plastic carrying case for eggs, it turned out — eggs she had brought me from her six backyard hens. “Did you think it was a purse?” she asked merrily.

I’m trying to figure out what this was trying to tell me. My best guesses are:

  1. The writer wanted to weave in a product placement of some kind, in hopes of getting influencer swag.
  2. The writer sucks at fashion spotting as much as I do, in that she mistook an egg container for a $400 handbag.

The author clearly has the ability to observe and describe, but tends to use it in some of the strangest circumstances and for some completely unhelpful reasons. Like every other tool in your toolbox, if you’re going to use it, do it for a good reason (read: in some way that helps your readers).

 

FORCING A THREAD: The use of a narrative thread is something that can be extremely effective when it’s done well and done with a purpose. If you are writing about a forest ranger, for example, spending a day with the forest ranger in the woods, doing whatever it is that forest rangers do, can create a vivid set of experiences that provide a great thread.

The problem with this piece is that it lacks that kind of opportunity and is still trying to force a thread into the story. In this case, as with many cases, it’s a meal (or a coffee, or a drink) that serves as a thread, even as there’s no real reason for it.

This is how we get a chunk of the story like this:

In the absent glow of the patio’s still-dormant fire pit, Courtney and I considered the dinner menu, which included a small quantity of caviar costing a sum of American dollars ominously, discreetly, vaguely, alarmingly, irresistibly and euphemistically specified as “market price.” Hours earlier, my supervisor had told me pre-emptively — and demonically — that I was not to order and expense the market-price caviar. Somehow, Courtney learned of this act of oppression, probably when I brought it up to her immediately upon being seated for dinner. To this, Courtney said, “I love caviar,” and added that my boss “can’t tell [her] what [she] can have,” because she doesn’t “answer to” him, “goddamn it.” She charged the caviar to her own personal credit card and encouraged me to eat it with her — even as I explained (weakly, for one second) that this is not allowed (lock me up!).

Short version: I nuance-begged for caviar from a source and got it.

For reasons past my understanding, she then feels the need to add another 150-word chunk to explain what she did and why she did it and why it’s not an ethical violation:

Subsequently pinning down the exact hows and whys of my consuming a profile subject’s forbidden caviar took either several lively discussions with my supervisor (my guess) or about “1.5 hours” of “company time” (his calculation). In his opinion, this act could be seen as at odds with my employer’s policy precluding reporters from accepting favors and gifts from their subjects — the worry being that I might feel obligated to repay Courtney for caviar by describing her favorably in this article. Let me be clear: If the kind of person who purchases caviar and offers to share it with a dining companion who has been tyrannically deprived of it sounds like someone you would not like, you would hate Stephanie Courtney. In any event, to bring this interaction into line with company policy, we later reimbursed her for the full price of the caviar ($85 plus tip), so now she is, technically, indebted to me.

The author returns to the meal and such at frequent intervals, rarely with insight or depth that would aid in telling the story about Courtney or what her life has been like. It’s not a strong narrative thread and, at best, reads like someone who is describing a meal in an effort to expense it.

 

MEGA-DEEP-THOUGHTS CONCLUSION: The goal of a good closing is to bring a sense of finality to a piece that offers people a chance to reflect on what they have learned. Most writers struggle with this at some point in  time, as it’s not easy to create a sense of closure without either forcing the issue or sounding trite.

A  lot of students I’ve had who don’t know what to do use the “essay” closure where they try to sum up  the entirety of the piece in. In other cases, they do a “One to Grow On” conclusion, where they try to create some sort of morality  play that gives people a learning experience like these PSAs from the 1980s.

As God as my witness, I have no idea what the hell this conclusion was trying to do:

What sane person would not make the most extreme version of this trade — tabling any and all creative aspirations, possibly forever, in exchange for free prosciutto; testing well with the general market, the Black and the Hispanic communities; delighted co-workers and employers; more than four million likes on Facebook; and, though tempered with the constant threat of being rendered obsolete by unseen corporate machinations, the peace of having “enough”? Do we deny ourselves the pleasure of happiness by conceiving of it as something necessarily total, connoting maximum satisfaction in every arena? For anyone with any agency over his or her life, existence takes the form of perpetual bartering. Perhaps we waive the freedom of endless, aimless travel for the safety of returning to a home. Perhaps willingly capping our creative potential secures access to a reliable paycheck. Forfeiting one thing for the promise of something else later is a sophisticated human idea. Our understanding of this concept enables us to sell one another insurance.

I’m not sure if our earlier “guessing game” would have been easier or harder if we used this chunk of info as a “Can you tell what the story was about?” prompt. Either way, I’m still baffled by it as a closing or even a chunk of content.

I could make about 823 random observations about the entirety of this story, but if I had to boil it down to a couple basic thoughts, I’d go with this:

  • I think Weaver did a hell of a lot of good reporting here, which speaks volumes about her as a journalist. The things I got to learn in here really did engage and inform me about the subject of the piece and I’m better for having found them.  I would have enjoyed them more if I didn’t have to play a game of “Where’s Waldo?” among all the rest of the stuff that was in here to find them.

 

  • This piece is basically Patient Zero for what happens when someone decides that their “voice” is a crucial element of a story and has somehow convinced themselves that readers are better served by their “unique flair.” A student once chastised me for editing out “the juice I’m bringing to this piece.” Save the juice for the grocery store and get the hell out of the story’s way.

 

  • I have often found that writers who go this direction of massively overwriting do so because they have convinced themselves of their own grandeur or because they lack confidence in their own abilities and thus bury the readers in verbiage as a dodge. Not sure which one is happening here, but the results are the same.

 

  • I’ve often equated this kind of writing to a “Big Mac vs. Filet Mignon” comparative. The steak is an amazing slab of meat, so all it needs is a little salt rub or something and it’s great. The meat on a Big Mac is grey disk of sadness times two, so that’s why McDonald’s slathers on pickles, lettuce, onions, special sauce and even an extra slice of bread to make it functionally decent. The more crap you have to pour onto something, the worse the underlying thing usually is.

 

  • A piece of this nature requires a lot of a reporter, but also a lot out of a reader. (This was tagged as a “21 minute read” and it took all of that and more.) When a  reader is asked to invest significant time into reading a story, the writer should do everything possible to maximize value and minimize waste. If you read the whole Flo story, ask yourself if you feel this was true of the piece.

 

  • And finally, if you think this blog post is long, realize it’s less than half the length of Weaver’s piece on Flo.

Rudy Giuliani settles lawsuit over his claims of election fraud. No… Not that one… No… That one got settled… No… It’s… Just read the post.

It’s never a good sign when you Google someone’s name and “lawsuit,” only to see smoke billowing out of the back of your computer…

THE LEAD: Dominion Voting Services has settled its lawsuit with former NYC Mayor Rudy Giuliani over his baseless claims that the 2020 presidential election was rigged. Dominion had sued for $1.3 billion, but the actual settlement was not immediately disclosed.

The company’s suit against Giuliani was based on statements the onetime presidential hopeful made on social media, on conservative news outlets and during legislative hearings in which he claimed the company conspired to flip votes to Biden.

Dominion’s lawsuit was among a series of legal and financial setbacks for Giuliani stemming from his role in spreading election conspiracy theories.

DOCTOR OF PAPER FLASHBACK: We covered Dominion’s situation when it sued Fox News for $1.6 billion back in 2021. The sides eventually settled the suit for $800 million.

If the “meet-in-the-middle settlement principle” holds true, Giuliani might be on the hook for about $650 million, although he’s already financially crunched due to the loss he sustained for maligning two Georgia poll workers. He’s been trying to declare bankruptcy, but a federal judge tossed that out in 2024, so I’m sure the creditors will continue to circle.

A SHORT, BASIC LEGAL PRIMER ON DEFAMATION: When we cover defamation in the writing and reporting classes, we tend to keep things pretty simple. Obviously, the law is rarely as clean cut as what we’re describing below, but it does at least give you a basic look at what these things tend to require.

We usually start with what we call the “minimum basic requirements” for a viable lawsuit. In other words, you have to prove these basic things just to get on the dance floor, so to speak:

Identification: Can I figure out the person/group/company that is being subjected to this potentially defamatory action? This can be naming someone (“Mayor Bill Smith of Springfield stole money from the Veterans Affairs account.”) or through identification that is obvious to a reasonable individual (“The principal of Smithville Elementary in Smithville, Ohio, who shall remain nameless, has installed illegal video cameras in the girls locker room.”).

Publication: Has the information been sent to someone other than the person who claims to be defamed? Defamation can extend across all media. People usually think about “publication” as being something disseminated via a newspaper or magazine, but that’s not the case. Sharing information through almost any channel or platform can fit this standard. I used to say that you could libel someone on a gum wrapper if you put your mind to it. That’s not that far afield from the truth, in that defamation suits have been put forth over broadcast reports, press releases, advertising and social media posts.

Defamation: Does the statement associate the person with illegal affairs or other nasty business? In most cases, we see issues of criminality here, but it doesn’t mean that this is the only way you can cover this base. Accusing people of being associated with a “loathsome disease” also fits here. So not only could you be in trouble for stating, “Johnny Smith shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die,” you could also be in trouble for saying “Johnny Smith is the reason for the chlamydia outbreak in the Delta Delta Delta house.”

Harm: Did the statements cause damage to the person/group/whatever claiming defamation? I remember once a situation in which a group of little… student government people was trying to get me fired as the adviser of the student newspaper. One of them took to the steps of the library wearing a sandwich board sign that essentially said I helped the paper steal about $74,000 from the university. The funniest thing about it was that he ended up misspelling my name on the sign, thus leading the newsroom kids of that era to refer to me as “Dr. Vinie Filk.”

I was basically blowing it off, but I asked one of my legal eagle buddies, if, just for fun, I decided to sue this kid, what were my chances of winning?

For starters, the guy told me, you’d probably need to prove that you are Dr. Vinie Filk. After we laughed at that, he hit me with the real issue: What’s the actual harm that’s come to you in this situation?

His point was that I couldn’t point to a specific negative thing that happened based on this kid doing this demonstration, other than that the kid was annoying the crap out of me. Had I lost my job, lost a promotion, gotten removed as adviser or a number of other things that were directly related to this kid’s actions, I could show harm.

As it stood, I basically was fine, so that’s how that cookie would crumble in court.

DOMINION GOES 4-FOR-4 AND THEN SOME: In the case of Rudy and Dominion, we can check all four boxes: The company was identified repeatedly in Giuliani’s statements, he was doing it on a boatload of platforms that went out to millions of people and he accused a voting company of rigging an election, something both illegal and “loathsome.”

Harm was easy to prove as well, given they could show actual losses related to statements made about how this company was a fraud. In the Fox suit, they stated easily a $600 million loss based on this nonsense, and that doesn’t count all the pain and suffering the Dominion workforce sustained when people who were all in a lather over this went after them.

ALL OFFENSE, NO DEFENSE: When a suit gets this far, we usually see one of two key defenses applied:

  1. The statements, while clearly not nice, are actually true.
  2. The statements were merely an opinion, so not subject to a suit of this kind.

Other defenses can apply here (The one former Trump lawyer Sidney Powell tried regarding hyperbole is an amazing example of chutzpah…) but for the most part, we’re looking at these two. The truth defense was shot to hell really early in all the Dominion suits, as no one could actually PROVE that the voting company was doing anything nefarious. The opinion defense we dealt with in the previous post on this topic, but it bears repeating here.

Opinions are statements that can neither be proven true or false. For example, “Dr. Filak is a lousy professor” fits the opinion because we can’t define what “lousy” means in any legal fashion. However, “Dr. Filak takes money for grades” is a statement we can prove to be true or false. In the Dominion case, it was clear these statements were meant to be taken as fact and stated as such, despite their falsity.

THE “ONE TO GROW ON” LESSON OF THE DAY: When these things happen, they should serve as a reminder to pretty much everyone who puts content into the public sphere that there are inherent risks in doing so. Over the past decade or so, we’ve gotten more and more comfortable with more and more people saying more and more outlandish stuff in the media and essentially getting away with it.

However, when someone actually decides that what is being said is a bridge too far and sues, what you might have thought of as “provocative” or “entertaining” might end up looking “coyote ugly” in the harsh light of the courts.