Comic via xkcd.  I know that this is a serious topic,
but I couldn't think of a better way to illustrate this post.
Back in March, the CEO of Tribune Company banned the word "allegedly" from on-air broadcasts at the Tribune-owned web station. It was among 119 words banned from the air because they were not conversational enough. The list is head-scratching-inducing, but "allegedly" stands out as problematic because it is shorthand for "this is not a fact". This person is not yet charged with a crime." It's an important word both for legal reasons and for ensuring that journalists don't skimp on the truth.

It's likely that it often becomes a dangerous shortcut as a reporter runs with a sexy story and the details are enough that readers stop seeing the "allegedly" and just assume the person in question actually committed the crime. But it's something.

I don't know what the New York Times' policy is on the word, but it certainly could have been used more liberally in their coverage of a fire on Staten Island. Last Thursday, a fire in Staten Island killed a family--two sons, two daughters, and  a mother. Investigators quickly determined that the victims were murdered: some of them had their throats slit, and the fire was set intentionally.

They also said that they thought that one of the sons, a 14 year old, was the murderer. That (likely false) theory emerged only hours after the fire.

But now it seems likely the investigators were wrong. Autopsies show the boy died may have died from his slit throat before the fire was started. Investigators are now focused on the mother, while not ruling out the boy's involvement.

The first story that the New York Times wrote liberally relied on variations of the phrase "investigators said" but the reporters also had already drawn the lines between good and evil.

As a single mother in a terrible job market, Leisa Jones had been doing everything she could to hold things together, working part time as a department store security guard during the holidays and, more recently, attending beauty school. Her neighbors said she had made the second-floor apartment on Staten Island where she lived with her four children — two boys and two girls — a place where good manners and good behavior mattered.
On Thursday, after firefighters had picked through the ruins of what they initially believed had been an early-morning fire that killed Ms. Jones and all four children, they uncovered evidence that was even more troubling: Ms. Jones's oldest child...had apparently started the blaze after slitting his sisters' throats.

Those first two grafs are hard to walk back from (which is why I substituted the boy's name for an ellipses). They paint the story of a mother was just a hard working single mother, the hero of everyday life, and of a son who killed his family. "Apparently" does not begin to convey the shakiness of what may end up being a completely false narrative.

The initial story was followed up with a story based on interviews with people who knew the family: the boy had a psychological assessment that recommended he switch schools (though why is unclear), a history of assault, had been bullied, and had been seen lighting paper on fire. If it seems like a leap to say that these were warning signs of homicide on this magnitude, it's because it is.

But that didn't stop the Times from jumping into full-on speculation on the same day:
In front of his home and at a Staten Island pool, he had apparently been lighting fires, flashes of heat and light that spoke, it turned out, of something more than just a fascination with flames. Inside, he burned.

The heat of that rage consumed the 14-year-old boy and left in its place, it would seem, an all-too-mature murderer.
If there's any place "allegedly" should have appeared so far, it should have been in every sentence of this story. The "it would seem" can refer to "all-too-mature" so there's nothing to say that this boy's guilt is not a given. Never mind that the writer has stated "inside, he burned" as fact.  And the boy isn't even alive to contest it.

Two days later, the Times ran this headline: Autopsies Suggest Mother, Not Son, Was Killer in Staten Island Case. The next day  the writer of a the speculation column wrote a new one saying reporters were too quick to latch on to the story. But the damage might be already done.

In the age of the Internet the allegations are there for all to see. Forever. A person could follow an outdated link and never see the new stories.

A paper cannot force a reader to read all the follow up stories, but there are ways to ensure that a reader who wanders onto the old and now outdated article knows that the boy was not a frightening murderer, and that the mother allegedly killed her family. I'm not advocating for removing the stories. They absolutely should remain on the site. But the Times has the technology to update the old stories, and they should do so. The first column only links to other stories that implicate the boy; it does not link to the back-tracking column.

As it stands, the original story does not even have a link to the updated stories. The "related" articles on the bottom are all about older fires and murders. There is no "Times Topic" page about the fire. There is no "read complete coverage here."

That's the least that they could do. If I were the editor I would go even further and offer the links to the updated story in an editor's note at the top, which notes that investigators are  no longer sure  that the 14-year-old boy killed his family.

The Times is not violating any newspaper ethics. The paper ran the story as it believed to be true and then ran follow up stories correcting the record. The Times has run editors notes before when a source lied. But this time, the unnamed firefighters and investigators implicating a dead boy didn't lie, they just made a mistake. So technically, no correction or note is needed.

But the rules of what to correct when might be based on an assumption that a reader will always end up at the most recent story. That's true if a person is picking up a paper every day. It's not true if a reader consumes news by way of social media and following links. It's not even true if you use the Times' own search engine. A search for "Staten Island" brings up the original story implicating the boy before the newer stories (though searching for "Staten Island fire" brings up the headline "Doubts Emerge About Teenager's Role in S.I. Fire" first).

The investigators are still not ruling out the boy's involvement in the crime. But  an editor's note could establish that his guilt has been called into question, and things are not as clear as the article made it seem.

A while back, I marveled at an iPad magazine that was constantly updated with the most recent data. I said that I expected the way that news was saved would change and that readers could expect that old coverage would remain up-to-date. I can't think of a better way to use that technology than to clear a person's name of a crime.

Especially a  boy who cannot clear his own name.
Paper Cuts, the blog of the New York Times' Book Review staff, had a slide show up a couple of weeks ago that featured some of the fun things promoting books that publishers mail to them in hoped of getting a book reviewed. These things range from Trojan horses to ties to tennis balls. Throughout the amusing slide show, the writers stress that there are rules about accepting the gifts, and that the gifts do not influence their reviewing decision. Sometimes, they don't even know what the gift was supposed to promote.

But you know what they don't do? They don't take a press release from one book and attribute it to another. Because, that's the only way I can imagine this mistake showed up in The Guardian.

"James Harding's book Alpha Dogs is not a searing, gripping novel as we said in a diary item, page 31, June 26. It is a work of nonfiction about a firm of US political strategists."

Oops. By the way, the full name of the book is Alpha Dogs: The Americans who Turned Political Spin into a Global Business. Sounds like a searing, gripping novel to me,

That Important S

Wednesday, June 11, 2008 0 comments
A press release with the following headline landed in my inbox today by way of Google New Alerts:

"PETA Asks St. Louis Mayor to Fight Global Warming by Encouraging Resident to Go Vegetarian"

One whole resident? Wow! How do they decide which one? Is there someone who consumes an inordinate amount of meat?

Or, is it a typo? Sadly, it's just a typo.

But this is not a typo: "Because meat production is the main culprit of greenhouse-gas emissions, there's no way to go green without forgoing meat."

Umm. I am pretty sure it is not the main culprit. I mean, It might be the main culprit of methane emissions, but...

A year ago, almost to the day, I mocked the Spiderman 3 movie, in particular its take on corrections.
"Also, who issues retractions off of their front page with a half-page headline "Sorry Spidey"?" I wrote.
The answer, it seems, is the Boston Herald, who ran an even larger "SORRY PATS" headline off its front page.
Bostonians like their sports teams. The paper is struggling (how sad is it that a city paper has only 10 metro reporters?). The story generated all sorts of attention--including senatorial-- (Why??) and it's own __gate name (Spygate? Really?). But there is really no excuse for this.

It should be noted though that I will forever have a soft spot in my heart for the Herald, since it generated this graf in the Post:

"Tabloids in some cases say what other papers only think," says Convey, the Herald's editor, whose office faces a freeway separating the paper's unfashionable neighborhood from the blue-collar enclave of Southie. "If you don't have fun putting out a tabloid, you're brain-dead."

Ouch

Thursday, May 8, 2008 1 comments
And I thought the Post's error was bad.
"A list of famous last words published in yesterday's editions of The Sun incorrectly attributed the authorship of Moby-Dick to Nathaniel Hawthorne. The novel was written by Herman Melville."
The Baltimore Sun, it seems, did not pass A.P. American Lit.

Any young Washington Post reporter or intern or copy editor--or really almost anyone who was in elementary shool after 1972, when the book was published--should have caught the blatant mistake in this article. :

"Blume, not surprisingly, won over fourth-graders with her "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing," the first of several books about Peter Warren Hatcher, who prefers to be called "Fudge."

They could have even read the back cover of the book: (Available on Amazon.)

"Two is a crowd when Peter and his little brother, Fudge, are in the same room."

You see? One sentence and you know that Peter and Fudge are different people. Peter would have been so mad at the Washington Post. (As I imagine legions of Judy Blume fans are).

UPDATE 05/08: The Post published a correction, which indicated that the writer has not read Tales of A Fourth Grade Nothing OR The Outsiders (though to his credit, I would not have been able to tell you where The Outsiders takes place. Actually, no. He could have looked that up too).

CORRECTION TO THIS ARTICLE
Earlier versions of this article incorrectly described the setting of S.E. Hinton's book "The Outsiders." It was set in Tulsa, not in Tucson. The article also incorrectly reported the character Peter Warren Hatcher in Judy Blume's "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing" preferred to be called "Fudge." His younger brother, Farley, used the nickname. This version has been corrected.
Heads Up: The Blog, a copy editing blog, which I think comes from the desk of the Wall Street Journal, brings this angry rant about the misuse of Shakespeare:

"Now is the winter of our discontent
made glorious summer by this son of York


Isn't it fun to be a copy editor? "Now" is an adverb, and it tells you something about how things are different from the last time we checked: The far-distant actor ("this son of York") has done something (don't you just love the passive voice?) to "the winter of our discontent." What was done to it? It was made "glorious summer." So lighten up. You've been waiting for the sun to shine on your back door, and it just did. March wind gonna blow all your cares away! Stop complaining about the potholes and read the damn sentence."


I have a soft spot in my heart for Shakespeare's history plays even though my thesis was titled "All That Is Spoke Is Marred -- Othello's Transformation of Speech Through Iago’s Influence."

Othello is still my favorite, but I really loved the Richard and Henry plays, so this post made me laugh. Plus the comments are great, because they argue over the use of the word "son." I bet the folio and quarto versions differ, but I can't tell because I have not shipped my Shakespeare plays here yet. Post in the comments if you can look it up in your notes of your edition of Richard III.

P.S. The next person who tells me that all they know about Iago is that he was Jafar's bird is going to make me burst into tears. Read the play. It's short. And amazing. Love, adultery, poetry, racial tensions, plotting, backstabbing, murder, suicide. What else could you possibly want in a play?

Spiderman

Sunday, May 13, 2007 0 comments

It's not worth seeing, but it made me laugh in part because of how bad it was.

There was one line that had all the aspiring journalists in the room (there were at least three) laughing:

Daily Bugle editor in chief: We will have to issue a retraction. We haven't issued a retraction in 20 years.

Uh. Yeah Right. Show me a newspaper that is THAT good especially a tabloid that is self described as having a smaller circulation than all the other newspapers in New York.

Also, who issues retractions off of their front page with a half-page headline "Sorry Spidey"?

Uhh. Right.

I like how I watch movies about superheroes and villains made of sand and this is the part I harp on as being false.

picture from marvel.com
In which the New York Daily News has a hard time with what constitutes news and with what constitutes a significant sample: "And, like all eight of the students we polled, she thinks most teens will eventually leave behind overpraising parents and celebrity obsessions - and grow up."

In which talk show hosts try really really hard to get Tony Snow to put his foot in his mouth, but all he does is tell us he used to be perfect : MR. SAGAL: No? Your knowledge was formerly perfect? MR. SNOW: It was formerly perfect. Now, it’s sometimes imperfect.

In which using SAT words in the lede is the only way to write the story: Billy Dorminy was perspicuous, talking about poecilonyms on television, and there was nothing pusillanimous about the way he did it.

UPDATE 03/09 2:12 a.m. This correction on the above article made me laugh:
"Correction: March 8, 2007 An article on Tuesday about the National Vocabulary Championship for high school students misspelled a word described as one of several that the students would likely know. It is nidicolous, not nidicoulous. (For those of us not in the know, it means: remaining in the nest for some time after hatching, as some birds; or living in the nest of another species.)"

Of course there was real news today, like Scooter Libby found guilty of lying to everyone you are supposed to tell the truth to, but the ridiculous stuff is so much more fun. By the by, I am curious how a man gets everyone to call him "Scooter". It, like perjury, strikes me as a bad career move.



A newspaper discovers that it is bad to to copy. And even worse to put someone else's name on it. "Weaver said he understood that Cobler told the newsroom that he’d reached an agreement with AP that allowed the Tribune to copy other papers’ work and run it under an AP credit line." WHAT?

Janice Min, editor in chief of Us Weekly, tells a room full of college journalists that tabloid, celebrity journalism is important. She says it with enough self deprecating humor to give her some credit for running one of America's most successful magazines. (Less credit, is given to America) and Gawker makes fun of everyone all around.

A massive pillow fight? This is just cool. And totally ridiculous. Oddly enough, though they covered it last year and it was bigger this year, the Washington Square News, missed it this year. (Maybe they are on break? Right now, there is no news on the Web site just a housing guide). But, their uptown competition at Columbia covered it with pizazz. Money quote from the organizers: "We sort of have a philosophy about asking for permission and it's that we don't."

On a totally different, much, much, more serious note: While trying to find the right links for my last post I stumbled across this multimedia package about nuclear warfare, which I thought was remarkably well done for a daily newspaper, and this series on a child mauled by pit bulls. I found it horrifying and addictive. I read it late into the night, tears streaming, and it made me wonder why horror in newspapers is so riveting.

It reminded me of this series that I read earlier in the Cleveland Plain Dealer about kids with Tay-sachs disease who underwent a controversial treatment. This series had some personal resonance with me, but it also was one of those voyeuristic kind of reads.


Hardly. After all, there were so many members of the press at a recent Hillary Clinton campaign event in Iowa, that one political expert (the Daily News gave him the tagline "sage" I refuse to do that.) said, "She's trying the intimate, living room approach, but how do you do that with 400 reporters following you? She's like a zoo animal in a cage with people going by to take a look and then talking about the aardvark they've just seen." Right. So they have things to cover.

Someone even wrote into the Chicago Tribune complaining that there was too much coverage. ("Maybe you should rename your paper the Obama News."? Ouch. They just keep coming.)

So why'd everyone fall into this trap? The New York Times reports that an online article on a website titled Insight Web (which does not even come up on the first page of google hits for those words) ran an anonymous article quoting anonymous sources who said that Clinton was going to say that Barack Obama went to a radical Islamic school while a child in Indonesia. (I know, it's confusing. Read the sentence twice.)

Let's look at how much of that was true: Clinton denies having said or having planned to say anything about Obama's schooling. Obama denies having gone to a radical Islamic school. The school, in fact, is secular. The true facts? Obama and Clinton are both interested in living in 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in 2008. Obama attended school in Indonesia. ( If you count Columbia as radical, then Obama attended a radical school. But then you are also probably Bill O'Reilly. ) That's it. The rest of the article, seems to be false. And, let's take a look at what one of the industry's top experts has to say about anonymous sources:

Bill Keller, executive editor of The New York Times: "The larger import of your question is that anonymous quotes can be a tool for manipulating reporters. That is certainly true, which is why we have tried -- with some success, but not perfect success -- to fight the casual use of anonymous sources, and, when we need them, to do all we can to inform the readers about the reliability and motives of the unnamed source."

"If another news outlet puts out a story based heavily on unnamed sources, we're loath to take it on faith. "

"After Watergate, it became popular in the newspaper business to talk about a two-source rule: if you had a piece of information from two sources, you could print it. But I'd much rather have a single source with first-hand knowledge of the information than several sources who heard about it third-hand. Sourcing is mainly a qualitative problem. Our aim is not to curtail the use of anonymous sources for the sake of meeting a quota. Our aim is to make sure that when we do use anonymous sources, it is justified by the value of the information, and that we have given the readers critical information about the sources. As much as possible, we want to say whether the sources were in a position to actually KNOW what they told us, and whether they had a particular ax to grind. It's also useful to let the readers know why they insisted on having their names withheld. "

And, as a bonus, here is a whole column complete with links to The New York Times' policy on Anonymous sources.

And, from the story in question: "With so much anonymity, “How do we know that Insight magazine actually exists?” Professor Whitehead added. “It could be performance art.”

So what happened? Why did the press even validate this with an article? So many articles--a Lexis Nexis search for "Obama dismisses report he attended radical school" gets 125 hits--that The New York Times felt the need to run a story about how this was not a story on A1. I'm not sure how it happened. But it makes me queasy. One guess? Reporters for this website get paid almost as much PER STORY that I've gotten paid PER MONTH at various internships. If being poor keeps you honest, I'll be poor.

Here's a vote for focusing on the issues not the horse race. Especially if the horse race comes from anonymous sources.

Fox news apologized for bringing it up. ""In an interview, John Moody, a senior vice president at Fox News, said its commentators had erred by citing the Clinton-Obama report. “The hosts violated one of our general rules, which is know what you are talking about,” Mr. Moody said. "

Know what you are talking about. Good idea.

Photo of Rudy Giuliani's press gaggle from AP via Gothamist. (Just imagine how much bigger Obama's and Clinton's must be.)

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Written Pyramids is a blog written by a journalist living and working in Washington D.C.

I have left my real name off of the blog so as not to imply that the blog is somehow linked with the journalism I get paid to do. (Still, I never write about my beat on this blog, and rarely express opinions about the day's news regardless of its relationship to my beat).

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Books pyramid image originally from the British website, Explore Writing.