Cut-Throat Journalism

Recently a friend asked me in a (honest-to-god) letter, how my lunch with Frank was, and I realized I had completely forgotten to blog about Frank from way back in September.

Who is Frank? Frank was the environment editor at the LA Times. Although Frank had a bad reputation for being crusty and well, kind of an ass, I totally stuck up for Frank. He was always extremely nice to me despite the fact I knew nothing about journalism. After he got laid off from the paper part-way through my fellowship, another editor who sat near us confessed to me that she'd never before seen the side of Frank that he showed me.

Frank, as it turns out, moved to New Mexico just before I left. He'd been in contact with me because he wanted to see me and discuss, as he put it, the sorry state of water and the even sorrier state of journalism. Naturally I was eager to meet with Frank, although I had hardly any free time left before I moved. After all, he had been my mentor as I entered the dark and scary world of journalism. I assumed he was planning to continue his role as mentor while I also contributed some information on the New Mexico water world so he could have some background for future articles.

Well, I met Frank at a quiet little Mexican restaurant. After about 5 minutes of me answering Frank's questions about my future, Frank pulled out his reporter's notebook and proceeded to grill me about any and all possible story ideas that could come from the NM OSE, my lovely employer at the time. Although I would in a heartbeat agree that the OSE is inept, most of what I knew about the agency certainly didn't merit investigative journalism. Frank continued to think that I was holding back, and assured me that I could get in contact with him again after I left the agency if I felt more comfortable. Those were basically his last words to me as he dropped me off back at the office.

So after I'd stuck up for this guy through his last days at the paper, he had the nerve to try to use me. No offer to help find me a job. No nothing.

And that is why I've always been suspicious of journalists. And why I've never wanted to be that kind of pushy journalist, or the kind who has to run out after the speaker at a conference to get the first interview, as I was reminded at NASW. No wonder people think the media can't be trusted. Some of them obviously give us a bad name. Too bad it had to be Frank.