George Ramos: A pioneer, a friend and mentor

George Ramos

Half a lifetime ago, I was a young reporter at the Statesman Journal in Salem and still adjusting to the lack of diversity in my newsroom and my adopted state. I had moved to Oregon after college, confident the change of place from my native California would be good for both my career and personal growth.

At the time, racial minorities (we weren't yet referred to as people of color) accounted for just under 6 percent of all full-time staffers in the newsrooms of daily U.S. newspapers, compared to 12.79 percent today.

Back then, Latinos were largely invisible, both in Oregon and nationally, despite the great immigration surge that began in the '80s. So it was a real milestone when the 1984 Pulitzer Prizes were announced. The Los Angeles Times was honored with the Gold Medal for Public Service -- the most prestigious of the Pulitzers -- for a series of articles examining Southern California's growing Latino community.

It was remarkable enough that national attention -- finally -- was focused on the diversity within the Latino community: Mexican-Americans, Mexicans, Peruvians, Colombians, Guatemalans, Nicaraguans, Hondurans, Salvadorans, etc. What was even more amazing was that it was a team of Latino reporters and editors who conceived the project and then went out and reported, photographed and packaged it.

For me and hundreds of other Latino journalists in U.S. newsrooms (I don't think there even a thousand of us yet) it was an inspiring achievement, a validation that the multifaceted Latino experience in the U.S. was an important story and that the work of our fellow Latino and Latina journalists was worthy of journalism's highest honor.

I thought of that groundbreaking series this week -- and of the pioneering men and women who made it happen -- when I learned of the death of one of the key members of that team.

George Ramos, who referred to himself as "just a kid from East L.A.," died July 24. He was 63, just five years older than me. He was a role model of humility and good humor, a guy who smiled often beneath a big mustache and a guy who made time for everyone, no matter if you were a rookie or a veterano. He joked that he was one of three people in California who didn't have a cell phone. Didn't want one.

I could count on seeing George every year at the National Association of Hispanic Journalists annual convention, whether it was in L.A. or New York or some other venue. The year it was held in El Paso, he invited me to join his posse in crossing the border for dinner in Juarez -- back when you didn't have to worry about drug cartel violence. George loved baseball. He loved journalism. And he loved L.A. After he left the paper in 2003, after a quarter-century there as a reporter, editor and columnist, he became the head of the journalism department at Cal Poly-San Luis Obispo, his alma mater, and mentored students with the same tough love he dispensed at NAHJ conventions and in his own newsroom.

It's hard to overstate how much that 1984 Pulitzer meant to all of us Latino journalists. For years I kept a bound copy of the reprinted stories in my desk and would pull them out from time to time to admire the nuanced reporting and the all-important context that the series provided for explaining the mosaic of the Latino community,

Even now, I can recall many of the folks who worked on the series and who, like George, would become friends. In all, 17 reporters and editors worked on the 27-part series. George was co-editor of the project, along with Frank Sotomayor, who recalled him as a "tough-guy reporter with a big heart." A Facebook page created in his honor, Remembering George Ramos, is filled with tributes from those he worked with and those he influenced.


I mourn George's passing. And I salute the everlasting contributions he made to the newspaper industry, the leadership he provided on newsroom diversity, and the inspiration and mentoring he provided to the next generation of Latino journalists.

'The Twitter Trap'

Bill Keller is the editor of The New York Times. When he speaks or writes -- even if it's to toss off an impish tweet -- people take notice.

Today in the Times' Sunday magazine (and four days earlier on the web), Keller came out with what I thought was a very sharp, insightful piece on the corrosive effect that Twitter (and other social media) has on our brains ("The Twitter Trap").
 
Just as the pocket calculator diminished our math skills, and GPS devices messed with our sense of direction,  Keller argues, so too is Twitter eroding our attention span.

Sending a single tweet requires thinking in 140-character bursts. Is that really a good thing? I suppose some people can convey wit, outrage ... or whatever ... in such a tight format. I also recognize that Twitter, Facebook and YouTube have been indispensable tools to journalists and ordinary citizens who've been active in the Arab Spring and other pro-democracy movements around the world.

Yet I agree with Keller when he wonders if the new technologies may be eroding our essentially human characteristics -- "our ability to reflect, our pursuit of meaning, genuine empathy, a sense of community connected by something deeper than snark or political affinity."

The most obvious drawback of social media is that they are aggressive distractions. Unlike the virtual fireplace or that nesting pair of red-tailed hawks we have been live-streaming on nytimes.com, Twitter is not just an ambient presence. It demands attention and response. It is the enemy of contemplation. Every time my TweetDeck shoots a new tweet to my desktop, I experience a little dopamine spritz that takes me away from . . . from . . . wait, what was I saying? 

My mistrust of social media is intensified by the ephemeral nature of these communications. They are the epitome of in-one-ear-and-out-the-other, which was my mother’s trope for a failure to connect. 

I went to the comments section following Keller's article and was struck by the number of well thought-out responses, both agreeing and disagreeing with him on the utility and value of Twitter and other social media. Then I went to Google and the first piece of reaction ("NYT editor Bill Keller on 'The Twitter Trap' ") and was slapped in the face by the very kind of snark I've come to detest.

One commenter calls him "a trolling bully." Another asks, "Was this guy in charge of the paywall decision? Print media makes you old and stupid." And someone else writes, "I really don't think Twitter is what made Bill stupid."

I can appreciate the connections ou can make on Facebook, as well as the news tips you can glean from Twitter, but I think our use of these tools comes down to a matter of balance. You can overdo anything -- whether it's watching TV, talking or texting with your smartphone or spending time on your computer. If we're smart enough to recognize Twitter as a time-sucking drain on the brain, we should also be smart enough to step away from it more often than not.


Illustration by James Joyce

Remembering Japan

It was just before midnight on March 11, ten weeks ago today, that a 9.0 earthquake grabbed hold of northeast Japan and shook it. The resulting tsunami and damage to a nuclear plant caused such devastation that even now it's still hard to wrap my mind around it.

Thanks to an in-house presentation this week by two of our stellar journalists at The Oregonian, I have a better understanding. Reporter Rich Read, who lived for six years in Tokyo as the newspaper's correspondent, and photographer Motoya Nakamura, who grew up in Japan, spent two weeks in the devastated region earlier this month and on Wednesday they reflected on their experiences in-country.

Their comments were captured in this hour-long video and address both the logistical challenges of traveling and reporting, as well as the powerful aftershocks that kept people on edge. The first few minutes of video and still photography are gut-wrenching in terms of conveying the scope of the triple disaster: Seeing mile after mile after mile after mile of devastation is numbing. Piles of lumber, metal and other materials were whipped into so many haystacks of destruction.

Then there were the psychological aspects of the loss.

For Motoya, it was emotionally difficult, returning to his homeland three weeks after the disaster. Pulling strangers' mud-caked photos from the debris, he said, made him think of his own heritage and experiences growing up in Japan, as well as his own two boys, ages 7 and 10, here in Portland.

For Rich, it was eerie flying into Tokyo, a bustling megalopolis of 28 million people far from the damaged region, and seeing the darkened, quiet streets. And it was sobering, he said, to realize it took an event like this to provide rarely seen glimpses of humanity among the Japanese.

He told the story of an woman in her 70s who was so overjoyed at finding her daughter alive in a shelter that they actually embraced.

"I will always remember that hug," she said.
"Why?" Rich asked her.
"Because," she said, "that only happens in movies."

If you can imagine such a reserved society where family members don't hug each other, then you can imagine the emotions unleashed by the tragedy. "It was like 9/11," Rich said, "with people feeling they were in it together."


It sounds trite, but I can't help but admire the resilience, the resourcefulness and the genuine selflessness we've seen as the Japanese struggle to recover. Thanks to Rich and Motoya and other journalists who've reported this ongoing story, my admiration just spiked.

Finding my place in the digital world

On Saturday, I attended an all-day Digital Journalism Camp in downtown Portland along with 120 other people interested in the future of online journalism.

A broad topic, for sure. And there were plenty of breakout sessions to make it more digestible -- best business practices for niche websites, lessons from three startup founders, using digital tools to give marginalized communities a voice, video storytelling, audio recording/editing and more. All of it was capped by a superb keynote talk by The Washington Post's national innovations editor, Mark Luckie, who challenged us all to read broadly, think outside the box and find ways to marry technology with innovation.

Four days after the event, I'm still going over my notes, reading what others have said about the camp (see below) and trying to figure out where to begin applying lessons learned and insights gained. It's not a matter of being intimidated or scared, but more an issue of getting past the realization that even though I've learned a lot in the past year, there's still so much that's new to me in the digital world. That's a humbling feeling.

As camp organizer Abraham Hyatt said in his introductory remarks, "The journalism ecosystem has changed a little" since the first camp was held just two years ago. (A subtle sign: Name tags had a space for attendees to fill in their Twitter handle: @georgerede, for instance. Obviously, Twitter was around in 2009, too, but it wasn't as ubiquitous as it is now, with folks tweeting away during the conference and using the hashtag #DJCPDX.)

And how has the journalism ecosystem changed since then? At the risk of stating the obvious:

-- The transition from legacy media to new media is in full bloom. News organizations like The Oregonian and Oregon Business magazine are increasingly offering readers online content, delivered to mobile devices, while anxiously waiting for online advertising to become a bigger share of the revenue pie.
-- It's all about collaboration. All across the country, you're seeing partnerships big and small as national and local media try to maximize resources and build audiences. At my shop, The Oregonian already has a TV partner in KGW and just recently partnered with several independent news web sites under the banner of an Oregonian News Network.
-- It's also all about innovation. It's not easy quitting your day job to launch a startup, but that's exactly what newbie and experienced journalists are doing in order to create their own little niche in the blogosphere. It's a risky business, but the refrain heard over and over is that people would rather have control over their own product and brand and accept less pay than stick with a soul-sucking job.

What's so impressive about the folks who attend a tech-oriented event like this is that it seems to naturally foster a spirit of mutual support, which leads to networking and sharing information. People don't hesitate to ask each other "how" or "why" and that's a great thing. I know I'll be following up with a couple of people I met.

What's also apparent is that the line between professional journalist and citizen journalist is becoming blurrier by the day. Those of us who studied journalism in college, embraced its code of ethics and principles of accuracy, fairness and transparency, and practiced it for decades are having to make room on the same stage for a new generation who proclaim they are not journalists by education and training but journalists by experience.

I can't help but admire the array of technical skills they own and the dedication they bring to the cause of making "unheard voices" heard, whether it's in low-income neighborhoods of Portland or in farflung places like Afghanistan, Libya and Egypt. If these are the people I now look to as colleagues -- in addition to those in my own shop -- I see there's a lot I can learn from them.

More reading:
-- Cornelius Swart, J-Lab coordinator at The Oregonian: "Digital Journalism Camp, "news partners" and other updates
-- Kristen Mira, blogging at Dragonflies in My Net: "Digital Journalism Camp"
-- Andrew Spittle, happiness engineer at Automattic. "Digital Journalism Camp Session Summaries"

Changing of the guard

Bobby Allyn

In the past month, we've seen three very talented colleagues leave The Oregonian:

Galen Barnett, my former colleague in Editorial, retired Friday after a long career at the newspaper, most of those spent as either the designer of the front page or a jack-of-all-trades in the editorial department, where he edited reader submissions, selected commentary from the wire services and designed handsome editorial and op-ed pages every day.

Brent Walth, a top-rank investigative reporter, author of an acclaimed biography of the late Gov. Tom McCall and part of a team that won the Pulitzer Prize for a series of stories about the INS, resigned to become managing news editor of Willamette Week, the alternative weekly where he began his career.

Greg Adams retired in April as quietly as he conducted himself in the newsroom. A consummate pro on the copy desk, he did the work that's invisible to readers, writing headlines, smoothing out rough language, bringing clarity to murky thinking, and catching potential errors before they found their way into print.

Together, these guys had spent about 75 years in our newsroom. You don't easily replace talent and experience like that. But you can take heart in seeing the passion and potential in the next generation of journalists.

That's why it was such a pleasure to have a goodbye-and-good luck breakfast yesterday with Bobby Allyn, a working-class kid from Wilkes-Barre, Pa., who's also moving on from The Oregonian.

Bobby joined us last year out of American University as a one-year reporting intern in one of our suburban bureaus. I've gotten to know him and his work over the past several months because the two of us have been part of the regular crew that works Saturdays. He's handled any number of general assignment news and feature stories and often shot photos to go with the stories. Like everyone else, he's adept at posting them on our blog -- and he's always brought a smile and a good attitude to the job.

Now he's moving on to his first full-time job as a real estate reporter at The Tennessean in Nashville. It's going to be a challenge, developing sources and building expertise in a new beat in an unfamiliar  part of the country. But that's what young journalists do -- they explore and adapt and they put those life lessons and work experience to use at the next rung of the ladder.

Bobby told me he has 36 hours of driving between Portland and Nashville, which he hopes to cover in six days. As I write this Tuesday morning, I imagine he's either enjoying San Francisco or reluctantly preparing to leave the city for his next stop in Los Angeles.

At 23, he's the same age as my youngest son, Jordan, and eager to embrace his new adventure. He's also acutely aware of these uncertain times in the news industry. At a time when veteran journalists (let alone parents) openly question a young person's decision to pursue journalism, it's refreshing to hear him talk with such zeal. If he can succeed in Nashville, a place that will present all kinds of challenges, that will be a significant accomplishment that points the way toward future success.

I remember the idealism I felt at that age. It's great to see it reflected in the face of such an earnest young man. I wish him -- and all his peers -- the very best, for they represent a changing of the guard.

The new news cycle

It's an axiom of our times that we live in a 24/7 news cycle. Events burn white-hot at the start, arc quickly, then get eclipsed by the next story -- and all this happens round-the-clock.

It's also well proven that social media** plays a big role in getting the news out about momentous events around the world. Examples: the protests in Iran, the revolution in Egypt, the ongoing strife in Syria.

Sunday's astounding news that the United States had hunted down and killed Osama bin Laden gives us the clearest demonstration yet of an even more compressed news cycle. Cyberjournalist Stacey Higginbotham suggests we're seeing a new phenomenon: "The 7 Stages of News in a Twitter and Facebook Era"

1. Excitement
2. Uncertainty
3. Searching for validation
4. Confirmation
5. Jokes, profits and platitudes
6. Action
7. Real analysis

I think she's nailed it. I urge you to click on the link above to read the full article (it's very short) and then answer these questions:

How did you learn the news?
Where were you?
To what degree do you rely on social media for the news?

** I learned of Higginbotham's article late Tuesday, thanks to a tweet from a twentysomething co-worker who's risen from part-time copy aide to full-time social media coordinator for the newsroom, sending and monitoring tweets and helping to manage our home page.

Images by www.todayinart.com

Finding common ground below ground

What motivates you more, fear or love?
Do you believe in government?
What is the meaning of life?

This thought-provoking video, posing these and other questions, came my way last week, courtesy of a friend's Tweet referencing the blog of film critic Roger Ebert.

I spent a few minutes composing my own introduction to the piece, but I realized this is an instance where providing a link to my friend Yvette's post is the best thing to do. So...

If you can make time for a 13-minute video, you'll be amply rewarded. If you've never been on the New York City subway system, this'll put you there. And if you have, it'll look and sound very familiar. Either way, this glimpse into what binds us is bound to make you feel a little better about this diverse, often divided, country of ours.

'A New Arab Generation Finds Its Voice'

A Libyan anti-government protester with her face painted in the colors of Libya's old national flag takes part in a gathering in the eastern city of Benghazi on Feb. 27, 2011.

Sometimes you come across a piece of journalism that's so well done that you just point to it, get out of the way and hope others -- like you, dear reader -- will take 5, 10 or 15 minutes, whatever you can spare, to check it out.

Such is the case with this superb multimedia presentation by The New York Times. Metro dailies may be struggling mightily across the country, and even the storied Times has its financial challenges. But journalism like this is essential to our acquiring the knowledge and perspectives needed to understand our tumultuous times.

Here's the intro:

Escalating violence has tempered the regional euphoria that followed the youth-led revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt. And yet, young people will continue to play an important role in the Arab Spring. This month, The New York Times interviewed more than two dozen of them, from Morocco to the West Bank, to find out how they consider their moment in history and their generation's prospects for the future.

Take a moment to listen to these passionate young men and women in the middle of transformative change.

Photograph by Patrick Baz, Agence France Presse/Getty Images

Talkin' about trolls

Skipped bowling last night to talk shop. Turned out to be a nice change from the routine (especially after hearing our team went down in flames -- again)

I was one of about 15 journalists who met at a Northwest Portland tavern for an informal discussion that centered around our interactions with online audiences. How and why do we do it, knowing how distasteful it can be, given the trolls who cause trouble for everyone?

Sponsored by a handful of journalists under the name Digital Journalism Portland, it was a good way to spend 90 minutes sharing information about our news organizations' practices and trading ideas about the overarching reasons for engaging with the largely anonymous readers who leave comments on news stories and opinion pieces.

I won't describe those differences in practices here, as it was an off-the-record conversation, but I can share a couple of thoughts concerning my own experiences at The Big O.

-- Anonymity on internet forums isn't going away. It's a different medium and it's part of the culture. While we can all wring our hands at how nasty some commenters can be, I understand the rationale for not requiring that people identify themselves. There are times when someone offers factual information in confidence because they fear repercussions in the workplace. That's legitimate.

-- Involving yourself in the discussion beats ignoring it. Asking for comments and then failing to participate in the conversation only reinforces the notion of an institution that doesn't care. The internet gives everyone a voice and I think a lot of commenters simply want to be heard. We can praise good comments, we can call out mean-spirited ones. But, mostly, we need to show that we are listening.

--Thoughtful, attentive moderating of the comments can yield some nice benefits. When someone's confidential information leads to a news story, that's a win-win. When you notice an interesting or different perspective -- say, from a minority group member -- it's worth reaching out to the commenter and asking if he/she would be interested in submitting an op-ed. (I've done that a few times and wound up with something we could publish.) When you add to the conversation, you help make the subtle point that journalists are people too. I think it's important that the public see that we in the media are not part of some monolithic institution and that there are huge differences among news organizations and the people who for work them. Same goes for independent bloggers, obviously. .

Already looking forward to next month's discussion, which will feature my newest Oregonian colleague,Cornelius Swart, on the topic of building a new model of cooperation between mainstream and independent news media.


Photograph: www.huntsmanlodge.com

Off and running with the new gig

Last month, I sat down to describe my transition at The Oregonian, from the editor of a pullout section of political and social commentary to a Web-first journalist focused on Portland community news: "1-11-11: Starting a new career chapter"

Well, here I am exactly 40 days later with a glance back at the past few weeks and, more importantly, a look to what lies ahead.

-- Today's Sunday Oregonian carried a Metro section cover story, "Oregon nonprofits raise a unified voice" written by yours truly. Next to it was a blurb alerting readers to a online-only package of additional stories, photos, videos, statistics and an interactive questionnaire designed for executive directors and board members of local nonprofits.

I can only hope that print readers made their way to the OregonLive web page to see the online-only components, which were gathered together under the headline "'New normal' for Oregon nonprofits brings new stresses and a determination to be heard"

That, after all, is one main thrust of my new duties -- to help generate news and feature stories, along with visual and audio elements -- that will entice readers to visit our Web site and keep coming back. The challenge of building online traffic has several aspects: Trying to create new habits in readers who prefer to get their news in print; competing for the time and attention of those who already spend significant time online; using new media to tell stories in different ways.

For me, the latter meant packing up my bag containing camcorder, wireless mic and tripod to four different interviews; inserting dozens of hyperlinks in four stories; building a resource base; drafting the questionnaire; and working with six different editors to pull together the videos, photos, graphics and online documents. Such is the Web-first mentality that the print story came at the tail end of the process.

-- The other big aspect of the new job is community engagement. That is, finding creative ways to get the word out about how ordinary citizens and community organizations can tap into OregonLive, whether by directly posting their own content or by discovering people whose stories might not get told otherwise. This means regularly getting out and about in the community, with little or no set agenda, and just depending on my journalistic instincts and serendipity to guide me from day to day.

-- This idea of being a mobile journalist (or MoJo) is many of us hope to master. Some of my colleagues are ahead of me in that regard while others lag behind. With a newsroom reorganization that two weeks ago included an overhaul of our so-called "Portland team," I'll be working with a whole new group of editors and reporters -- all of us focused on this Web-first mission.

With this initial project on nonprofits now safely behind me, I'm eager to get going with a new routine that promises to be rewarding in a whole new day.

Tools of the trade

Talk about a technology whiplash...

I was walking past a copy editor yesterday when I looked down at her desk and spotted this artifact of a bygone era.

"Laurie, is this yours?" I asked. "I haven't seen one of these in years -- no, decades. Wow!"

She said no, she'd found it in a drawer when she changed desks last year and had just hung onto it.

I immediately proposed a "test" and walked over to where our twenty-something social media coordinator was sitting at her computer, looking at multiple columns of the latest tweets from Twitter.

"Ali, do you know what this is?"

She looked at it, puzzled. "An eraser? With a tail?"

Sue, a veteran editor sitting nearby, smiled in recognition. "A typewriter eraser!" She said her mom was a school teacher and used them all the time.

Any journalist or secretary who used a manual typewriter back in the day would have used one, in combination with erasable bond paper, to correct errors and whisk away the eraser crumbs and paper dust. Wikipedia actually has a paragraph on "correction methods" in its entry on the typewriter:

"The traditional erasing method involved the use of a special typewriter eraser made of hard rubber that contained an abrasive material. Some were thin, flat disks, pink or gray, approximately 2 in (50 mm) in diameter by 1/8 in (3 mm) thick, with a brush attached from the center, while others looked like pink pencils, with a sharpenable eraser at the "lead" end and a stiff nylon brush at the other end. Either way, these tools made possible erasure of individual typed letters. Business letters were typed on heavyweight, high-rag-content bond paper, not merely to provide a luxurious appearance, but also to stand up to erasure. Typewriter eraser brushes were necessary for clearing eraser crumbs and paper dust, and using the brush properly was an important element of typewriting skill; if erasure detritus fell into the typewriter, a small buildup could cause the typebars to jam in their narrow supporting grooves."

Why bring this up?

Because two hours later, I was packing up my bag with a video camera, tripod and wireless microphone for an interview with the head of a Portland nonprofit that specializes in programs to help runaway and homeless youth. If all goes as planned, you'll see that video later this month on OregonLive.com.

I started in journalism as a high school junior, using a pen and notebook and typing my stories onto plain office paper using a manual typewriter, then an electric one, where moving paragraphs literally meant cutting and pasting. I still use a pen and notebook; but these days, more often than not I'm wearing a headset and typing my notes onto a computer screen while doing a phone interview. Stories now are composed on laptops as easily as desktop monitors and even smart phones. We upload photos, videos and PDFs from any remote location that connects with our servers, and moving small or huge blocks of copy is as simple as copy-and-paste.

So, yeah, it was a kick to see that typewriter eraser -- a newsroom museum piece. And, yes, it's trite to say but, damn, we've come a long, long, long way with the technology, haven't we?

My favorite conservative

For the past two years, I've enjoyed a great professional and personal relationship with Elizabeth Hovde, a self-styled "just right of center" opinion columnist for The Oregonian. She works from home, writing a column on politics and current events for the Sunday newspaper and also blogs during the week.

I've teased her about being a human Swiss army watch because she is so reliable in terms of filing on time and at the desired column length. We share an affinity for the Northwest. We swap stories about parenthood (she and her husband have two young boys, whereas Lori and I have three adult children). We chat about movies, music and books and, through editing her column, I find myself questioning my beliefs and assumptions about religion and moral issues. And on those occasions where we agree -- such as her support of the Dream Act -- well, let's just say it's been nice to wind up on the same side of an issue.

Just before the year came to an end, I joined Elizabeth and a fellow editor for a drink after work. It was nice to see her so relaxed, chatting happily with fellow journalists and poking fun at herself in a self-deprecating way.

With the newsroom changes that took effect this year, I'm focused on getting a handle on my new job and no longer am working with Elizabeth. So I was nearly speechless when I learned that she had been seriously injured in a skiing accident last week. We posted a short news item about her on The Oregonian's Opinion blog on Friday and, much to my pleasant surprise, commenters posted nothing but good wishes for her.

Out of respect for her privacy, I won't share any details of the accident other than to say it will likely take weeks and months to recover. I'm still trying to process the idea that vivacious Elizabeth -- who wrote movingly about her dying dad last Father's Day and then had to bear his loss a few months later -- is the one who is in a hospital bed. Life can be so unfair.

An auspicious beginning

I had a feeling that yesterday would be a good day. Turns out my instinct was right. Not only did I get off to a nice start with my new web-first job, but my day and night were bookended by renewing acquaintances with two amazing women I came to know as collegiate journalists and who've each achieved success on their own terms.

Just goes to show how today's technology can help refresh friendships formed two decades ago.

 First up, Patty Chang Anker. Patty was a University of Pennsylvania student who I worked with on "Voices," a daily tabloid newspaper produced by a select group of students and professional editors who came together for a week to cover news of the Asian American Journalists Association national convention. It was held in Seattle that year, 1991, and the editor-in-chief asked me (the only Latino) to help out. I remember Patty being earnest and upbeat but also somewhat conflicted about a career in newspapers. She found work at a book publishing company in New York, then went into public relations.

She found me on Facebook yesterday morning and a few minutes later I was reading her blog post on The Huffington Post taking issue with a woman I'd seen interviewed on The Today Show that very morning, contending that Chinese mothers are superior because of their super-strict disciplinarian ways. The response to the HuffPo piece was overwhelming and Patty shared her exuberance on her own blog, called Facing Forty Upside Down.

I think the photo above says it all. Married and with two children, Patty describes herself as "a mother, yoga teacher and public relations pro who exhorts anyone within earshot or email range to new experiences." And she leads by example. Click here to read "Walking on Air" and see her make good on a vow to learn how to do a handstand before turning 40.

Next up, Heidi Durrow (rhymes with Thoreau). Heidi was a news reporter intern at The Oregonian in the summer of 1990, following her junior year of college. I was an assistant city editor then and worked with her on several stories, impressed with her poise. She had graduated from Portland's Jefferson High School, the city's only high school with a majority of black students, but people looking at light-skinned, blue-eyed, kinky-haired Heidi couldn't figure her out. They didn't know she was the daughter of a Danish mother and African American father who'd grown up in Europe and moved to Portland at age 11. She spoke Danish in the home and English outside it, and excelled in the classroom.

Heidi wound up graduating from Stanford -- as well as the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism and Yale Law School -- and became a journalist, then a corporate litigator. She eventually quit to pursue a childhood dream of writing a novel. Who knew that it would take 6 years to write it and nearly 6 more to get it published? And who knew that her debut novel, "The Girl Who Fell From The Sky" would win a literary prize and widespread praise from book critics all over the country?

Heidi read from her book last night at the indie bookstore in our neighborhood so I went, and wound up writing about it in my first blog post in my new job at The Oregonian. Read it here.

I was surprised she recognized me instantly as she stepped to the microphone. It was gratifying to talk with her afterward and learn that, at age 41, she's been married for 17 years and that she's been reading the Rough and Rede blog for several months, never leaving a hint of her presence. We talked again today on the phone to tie up some loose ends and I asked her when and where had the idea to write a book taken root.

"When I was a little girl, probably six or seven years old," she answered. The inspiration came from her mom, who was a homemaker in her early 30s and taking a correspondence course in writing children's books when she submitted an article to an obscure magazine called American Dane. One day, the mail came and with it the news that her article had been accepted. Inside, a check for $10.

"I remember my dad taking a picture and Mom holding up the check, beaming like the sun itself," Heidi said. "I think I latched onto it, that moment of joy and pride, and thought I wanted to be just like my mom."

Mom was there in the audience last night, beaming at her lovely, accomplished daughter, and I got to shake her hand, too.

1-11-11: Starting a new career chapter

I love the symmetry in today's date. It strikes me as a good omen for the transition I'm making today -- from a print-oriented editor to a web-first journalist. I'm going from a job where each week I could choose freely among topics -- ranging from anything connected to Oregon to an international issue --  to a new Portland-centric mindset where the emphasis is on neighborhood and community news..

Why the transition? And why now?

Two days ago we announced to readers that The Oregonian's Sunday Opinion pages will no longer consist of a  separate, stand-alone section of six broadsheet pages, but instead will be contained on three pages within the Metro section. I knew this downsizing was coming, following discussions with some of the paper's top editors that began in early December. I've kept the news mostly to myself since then, preferring to focus on the last few Sunday sections while also laying the groundwork for the change.

I've loved the job I had for the past 3 1/2 years, as it kept me in the flow of what people were talking and thinking about and opened the door to countless personal friendships and professional relationships that together broadened my exposure to ideas and experiences different from my own.

But the time has come to do something else.

While the move away from a free-standing Opinion section is partly driven by a desire to cut newsprint costs, it's also part and parcel of The Oregonian's full-body embrace of journalism on the web. In order to keep pushing in the latter direction, you've got to make trade-offs in terms of where you direct your energies. I understand that and I'm fine with it.

For those who've long been accustomed to getting their news and opinions in print, it may be hard to grasp just exactly what my new job entails. For those who feel comfortable in the universe of online media, it's not much of a stretch. It's about building reader engagement, through personal contacts and more interactive features, on our Portland community news pages. It's about creating a greater sense of immediacy and increasing the pages’ visibility and impact, through social media, community outreach and other approaches.

Details of my job description and job title are still being worked out but this much is clear: I'm essentially closing the book on my career as a print journalist and launching fully into the online world. It's daunting, it's exciting, it's filled with possibility and risk -- all at the same timie -- and I suspect it will surprise and reward me in ways I've not envisioned. With a talented and supportive group of colleagues around me, it really is an amazing opportunity to reinforce and expand upon my new media skills.

I intend to keep up this blog but there may be an opportunity to launch a separate work-related blog in connection with my new duties. Stay tuned.

A splendid debut

One of the things you always hear said to a young writer is "Write what you know." That is, write about something you're familiar with, so you're coming from a position of authority, rather than casting about to sound believable.

It's good advice and, in the case of first-time novelist Tom Rachman, it's a winning formula. I just finished reading "The Imperfectionists," a collection of 11 intertwined short stories that together make up an impressive and intriguing whole. Rachman is a journalist who's worked as a foregin correspondent for The Associated Press and as an editor for the International Herald Tribune in Paris, and now lives in Rome.

So when he sets out to write about editors and reporters who inhabit the newsroom of an international daily newspaper that's based in Rome, he's writing about what he knows. As a journalist myself, I recognize the flawed characters he sketches -- some who live and die for the story and the next deadline; some who struggle to have any semblance of a meaningful personal life; some who seek to hide their insecurities by throwing themselves into work.

I'd never heard of Rachman or his book, but my friend Bob, a frequent commenter on this site, recommended it highly and loaned it to me recently. I had no expectations going in but I found myself absorbed by the characters and the interlocking narrative that weaves them all together. With one exception, I found each of the chapters strong enough to stand on its own as a self-contained story.

Rachman nails the newsroom banter and insecurities of the various journalists -- including the ambitious editor, a workaholic news editor and a past-his-prime correspondent -- as well as the idiosyncracies of the eccentric publisher, the non-nonsense chief financial officer and other characters.

Their individual stories are set against the backdrop of an English-language newspaper with falling circulation, dwindling corporate support and no Web site -- an unpardonable sin in these times.

The book is an easy read and full of surprises that will make you feel sympathy toward several characters. They come across as real people, with complicated lives and personal challenges that circumscribe their lives. Bottom line: This is an entertaining book well worth reading. Christopher Buckley, writing in The New York Times Sunday Book Review, certainly liked it.

Photograph by Alessandra Rizzo

The past, present and future of news

Sue Jepsen, Kevin Murphy and myself

No, this isn't a post about the history of journalism or a deep inside look at where we are going in the industry. Rather, it's a rather vanilla headline on a recent gathering of former and current employees of The Oregonian, prompted by a slick demonstration of a very cool idea designed to help readers and news organizations alike deal with the fire hose of information on the internet.

The past? By my rough estimate, the majority of some 50 or 60 people who gathered in Portland's Old Town last Sunday were people who recently have retired, taken buyouts or, in some cases, been laid off from the newspaper. It was a pleasure to see so many former colleagues, some of whom I see in my neighborhood or on the bus and others who I hadn't seen in months and even years. By and large, folks seem to be in a pretty good space -- and I was especially happy to learn that one of the very nicest, most talented people I'd worked with had gotten a new job utilizing her considerable design talents.

The present? Well, obviously, there were plenty of current staffers at the event, too, and it was nice to engage in non-work conversations away from the office. Not everything has to be journalism 24/7.

The future? The Oregonian Reunion Party was organized by three former staffers who are among the founders of a new-media venture called Nozzl Media. Their company builds custom, real-time, and local news streams that, they hope, will appeal to local and national media organizations that are seeking ways to organize, streamline and deliver a wide variety of content to their online audience.

As the Nozzl web site explains: "Our streams combine real-time news with public records data and social Web conversations to create a robust, easily filtered, and thoroughly mobile flow of information." Thus the fire hose reference above. It's about taking everything that's going in a different community and filtering it in such a way that it's like funneling it into a nozzle for easier consumption.

The Nozzl guys, Steve Woodward, John Hamlin and Brian Hendrickson, showed a few slides, provided light refreshments, and made a softsell about investing in their company. Knowing most journalists aren't loaded with money, they suggested that if we really liked their concept and wanted to support it, we could always put them in touch with a rich relative. All three of the guys are incredibly talented and dedicated to this venture. I truly wish them the best -- perhaps in collaboration with The Oregonian (?) but more likely with other companies -- and thank them for bringing us all together on a Sunday afternoon.

Photograph by Alan Borrud

Learning from 'No'

Jennifer West

Reader alert: This is longer than my usual posts, but it carries a lot of meaning for me and a great life lesson about constructive criticism and perseverance. I hope you'll stick with it...

An e-mail arrived in my in box at work the other day, bearing a screen name I didn't immediately recognize. Curious, I opened it. A minute later, I was smiling at my computer screen, delighted at how things had turned out for a promising college student I'd met years ago at a National Association of Black Journalists convention. As The Oregonian's newsroom recruiter, I'd interviewed a number of students interested in landing a summer internship in Portland. Each year, hundreds would apply;  we could only choose about a dozen. With her permission, I'll let the writer of the recent e-mail take it from here...
 
*** 

Mr. Rede,
I met you back in 2003 at a NABJ Conference. For some reason a response that you sent to an e-mail from me [7] years ago, has been resending to my BlackBerry every day for the past two weeks. I get the same e-mail everyday as a new message. It's very strange but surprisingly refreshing considering that I had all but forgotten that poignant interaction.

Either way I felt inclined to respond. When I got a chance to re-read our e-mail thread, I was reminded of how much you helped me as a young college grad. Not by giving me an internship/job at The Oregonian but by being honest with me and offering thoughtful criticism and insight. I paid attention to the things you said and used that to move forward during a particularly bleak time. For that, I'm really appreciative!

Shortly after meeting you, I did land a job a daily in the burbs of Philadelphia as an education/general assignment reporter, opting to change tracks after two years.  I now find myself, settled in a communications career, writing and editing at Northwestern Law School. The help of people along the way, like you, who gave it to me straight and took time and effort in your recruiting really proved to be helpful.

I hope this e-mail finds you well. Thanks again!

Jennifer R. West

*** 
She attached my original e-mail here...

From: George Rede
To: [Jennifer West]
Subject: Re: Thank You Mr. Rede
Sent: Aug 11, 2003 7:35 PM

Dear Jennifer,

Most recruiters will tell you it's a great feeling to be able to offer an internship or a job to a deserving young person. I have to admit it's true.

But every once in a while there comes along a person with not much experience but a lot of heart and integrity. Someone who could be easily [falsely] encouraged but instead realizes what the challenge is and vows to work hard to get taken seriously.

So it's with all humility that I write to say thank you for your lovely words and to wish you the best in refocusing your energies and short-term goals. Your e-mail made my day, Jennifer. I, too, hope you'll be able to demonstrate some real growth next summer at the Unity convention.

Sincerely,

George Rede

*** 
Likewise, she provided her initial post-interview note...

<<< Jennifer West  08/11/03 11:50AM >>>
Mr. Rede,
My name is Jennifer West and I met you at the NABJ convention at The Oregonian's recruiting booth. I originally went to your booth with high, somewhat unrealistic, hopes. After meeting with you I was a bit discouraged, but looking back in retrospect I'm grateful for your help.

You told me everything that I did not want to hear but needed to know in order to be successful in this competitive business. Your insight has given me incentive and drive to correct the things you mentioned about my clips and internship experience. Although at first I was upset, I came to understand that unlike the other recruiters who most likely just smiled and tossed my work aside, you gave me the necessary feedback that will help me in years to come.

So although I may not be quite ready for The Oregonian or other large papers, you helped me to see what it is I need to work on and where I need to start. I really appreciate your help. Maybe I'll be fortunate enough to see you next year at the convention under better circumstances. Thanks again!

Jennifer R. West

*** 
Seeing what I wrote then prompted this response from me...

Dear Jennifer,

I have no idea why you're getting my old response, but -- wow -- your e-mail made my day, just as it did seven years ago.

I remember meeting you and being so impressed by the quality of your character. This follow-up only reinforces that impression. In these turbulent times for journalists, I'm not surprised to learn you changed tracks from reporting to communications. But neither am I surprised. I am delighted to learn you're at such a prestigious school and, evidently, quite happy with your situation. And being in the Chicago area has got to be a plus...

I've gone through a bit of a change myself. In 2007, when things got pretty rough throughout the industry and it became apparent we wouldn't be doing much hiring in the coming years, I chose to look within The Oregonian for another opportunity. The Sunday Opinion editor job came open, I applied and got it. Next to recruiting, it's been the most fun and most fulfilling job I've had in my 25 years here at the newspaper. Planning and editing a weekly section that revolves around public policy issues, and which allows me to publish different viewpoints and perspectives, is both stimulating and challenging.

I will always look upon the 10 years I spent as a newsroom recruiter with great fondness, and I will always treasure the connections I made with people like you, Jennifer. Thank you so much for writing...

 

Very best wishes,

George

*** 
And the last word goes to Jennifer...

Mr. Rede,

Yes, it's really odd! But I must say that this has been really refreshing! I'm of the thought that nothing happens by accident. If nothing else it reminded of the important conversation that I'd all but forgotten about.

I'm so glad that you've found your place in The Oregonian newsroom. It's been such a strange time where many have been displaced or let go. So the chance to continue in newspapers doing something you enjoy, is great! I look at it as seasons. Your season as a recruiter was beneficial personally and for so many young grads. Not everyone has been so fortunate across the professional board, myself included!

The road to Northwestern Law has been a long, strange one but I'm pleased with where I am now. I moved to Chicago after leaving the Bucks County Courier Times in 2006. My decision to leave was based more on the fact that while newspapers weren't in total turmoil yet, I could see the writing on the wall: shorter copy to make space for ads, reduced creative reign in writing etc., extended hours and cutbacks. I moved to Chicago to take a job a boutique public relations firm as a writer. It was short-lived, very short-lived, and an interesting experience to say the least. After working in communications for the Chicago School of Professional Psychology, The American Medical Association and many odd jobs in between (dog walker, receptionist for an apt finding company etc.), I'm content with where I am now!

At Northwestern, I'm writing and editing copy for the Law School website, writing for the alumni magazine and newsletters and writing speeches and remarks for the Dean of the Law School. It's certainly not what I painted for myself when I decided to leave newspapers. Although I can't say what exactly I foresaw for myself.

Either way every disappointment I've had and job I've lost or gained over these 7 years has brought me to this point. Which is why our interaction resonated with me so much. I think my meeting with you was my first of someone telling me "no" albeit in a constructive way. I think my generation of kids possesses a sense of entitlement. We want what we want and we want it now, just because that's what we believe to be owed. We're told you can have or do whatever we want but no one tells us that it's a process of setbacks and disappointments that can ultimately serve you better in the long run and builds character.  Life has shown me that things aren't always an instant yes. But what's more important is I've learned that that's ok, if not for the better!

Jennifer

New places, familiar faces

Amish Mennonites

Italian food in Amish Country? Yep. I was in eastern Iowa this past weekend for the annual board meeting of the Quill and Scroll Society, an honorary society for high school journalists that's based at the University of Iowa. We board members went out to dinner Saturday night and found ourselves in Kalona, 20 miles southwest of Iowa City, at an upscale restaurant called Tuscan Moon Grill. Kalona is the largest Amish community west of the Mississippi River and is known as the quilt capital of Iowa. En route to the restaurant, we passed a couple of families in traditional clothing and their horse-drawn buggies, which explained the road apples and pungent smell wafting into our car.

Who would have guessed I'd sit down to grilled scallops and shrimp, with garlic polenta and sauteed vegetables, washed down by a Sapporo beer in a place like that? (Especially when the place next door, the Kalona Bakery, was selling brats for $2.50 and and pork burgers for $3.50.) Believe me, it was the equal of any restaurant in Portland. Consider another Iowa stereotype busted for this West Coast boy.

Adjusting to Iowa City.  The following morning, I met with Inara Verzemnieks, a former staff writer at The Oregonian, for breakfast and conversation at the Bluebird Diner in Iowa City. I had the privilege of recruiting Inara to the newspaper, just a few months after she'd graduated from the University of Washington and completed a summer internship at The Washington Post. In the 14 years since, I have marveled at the reporter and elegant writer she has become. (She was a Pulitzer Prize finalist in Feature Writing in 2006.)

Inara took a buyout last year and, with husband Nick, moved to Iowa City this summer to pursue an  an M.F.A. in nonfiction writing, an English Department program that's separate from the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She's just begun the three-year program, but she thinks she'd like to teach, possibly at the community college level. I've seen her around high school students and other young people and I think she'd be marvelous in that role. Inara is fiercely intelligent and a woman whose emotions are never far from the surface, whether talking about a visit to Latvia to see relatives or the multiple adjustments she and Nick are making to their new life in Middle America.


Settling in to Pittsburgh. A week earlier, when I was in Pittsburgh, I reconnected with another young journalist with Oregon ties. Lori joined me as I met with Moriah Balingit for drinks at a bar in the Shadyside neighborhood. Moriah was a student at the University of Oregon when I met her, and she did an internship at The Oregonian in the spring of 2006, working out of a suburban bureau.

She landed an entry-level reporting job at the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and has been there going on three years. She covers night cops, so she's got a brutal schedule working from 4 p.m. to midnight and beyond. She's originally from Sacramento, but seems to enjoy her new city -- the so-called Paris of Appalachia. Moriah has quickly become part of Steeler Nation, though she retains a passion for her Oregon Ducks (ranked No. 1 in the nation as of this writing!). Journalistically, she's had to adapt to the new media environment and now files a majority of her stories directly to the newspaper's web site -- par for the course these days, throughout the industry, when it comes to breaking news.

I'm glad I got to see these two friends and former colleagues. To see them fulfilling the promise they displayed as young journalists, while still in or barely out of college, is inspiring. To see them genuinely happy in their new environments, embracing new situations and challenges, is satisfying. And to know they are just two among the hundreds of aspiring journalists I've helped or encouraged, well, that's  immensely gratifying.

Photo credit: Kalona Historical Group Tours

Monday morning perspective

Leonard Pitts Jr

OK, so the morning didn't start off so well...

A driver turned in front of me on a red light when I had the right-of-way. The pool was closed because of too much chlorine. The cashier at Starbucks rang up my purchase incorrectly. The grocery store wasn't yet open when I pulled up to buy a package of bagels.

I know, I know. All petty stuff. But I didn't let it bother me. And I'm glad because when I opened the paper and read Leonard Pitts' column, it reminded me of the stuff that matters and how, with each year, you really need to step out and do those things you've either put off or haven't tried.

In April, Pitts wrote in his column that he would participate in the Susan K. Komen 3-Day For The Cure, a 60-mile, three-day walk to raise money against breast cancer. Six months and nearly 500 reader donations later, he raised $27,000, more than 10 times the mandatory minimum of $2,300.

After an 18-mile training hike, Pitts wrote of what you notice when you're walking and not driving: a lake not quite visible from the road, a sidewalk curving beneath some trees, a wooden footbridge. That's a pleasant enough reminder: to stop and smell the roses.

But even more I liked what he had to say about life's stages:

Lately, I have this theory that we live in three great arcs. The first 25 years are for coming of age, figuring out who you are, getting an education, starting a career.

The next 25 are for rat racing, raising your kids, paying a mortgage, building a life.

But from 50 until ... that's for having some fun, for trying something new, for being of service, and for doing some of those things you always said you'd do, someday.

As I said, it's a theory. But sometimes life is like driving a car. You are so focused on the destination that you keep getting to places without realizing how you got there. When did my youngest child become a woman? How is it that high school will soon be 40 years past? And what happened to those things I said I'd do, someday?

I always said someday I'd walk to raise money against breast cancer in honor of my mom, who died of the disease in 1988. That's an easy thing to say. Not so easy to do. Each year, I found perfectly logical, rational reasons to talk myself out of it, not least of which is the fact that I am more sedentary than your average boulder. I'd have to be crazy to think of walking 60 miles.

And the truth is, I probably never would have done it, except that one day, I just did: I snuck up on myself, signed up without giving myself a chance to talk me out of it. 

Lots of wisdom there. And food for thought. I'm going to think of what I haven't done and vow to do it within the next year.

By the way, here's a link to Pitts' column.

A brush with Europe

I've never been to Europe. Not even close. So it was fun to have breakfast this morning with someone from the other side of the pond: Steffi Dobmeier, a German journalist who's been working in The Oregonian newsroom this summer as part of an international exchange program.

The Arthur F. Burns Fellowship seeks to develop reporters who are interested in and informed about U.S.-German and U.S.-European relations. Each summer, 10 reporters are selected from both Germany and the United States and placed in newsrooms in each other's country, where they produce work for their host news organization as well as their home audience.

Steffi, 32, hails from Erfurt, a city of about 200,000 in central Germany, and has been writing for her hometown newspaper since she was a teenager, beginning with contributions to the youth page. (Just like me, except that I started writing about high school sports.) Steffi's been working with our politics and business team, and I had the opportunity to edit a piece she wrote on the 20th anniversary of German reunification. It will appear in the Sunday Opinion section this weekend, in advance of the Oct. 3 ceremonies, and serve as a fitting end to her two-month stint in our newsroom.

We had breakfast at Mother's Bistro, a downtown institution. Steffi said the restaurant, with its comfortable interior and huge windows providing ample natural light, reminded her of France and that Portland, with its compact downtown and excellent public transportation, felt very much like a European city. I could only imagine what that might be like on both counts.

Lori and I hope to make it to Europe sometime in the next couple of years. By then, we'll have decided on which countries we want to see most. Leading contenders at the moment: Italy and Greece, though I'm lobbying for Ireland too.