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It's sorta sad remembering newspapers' golden days
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Published: August 25, 2008
The worst thing about the downturn in the newspaper industry, aside from massive layoffs, careers in ruins, frozen salaries and the grim realization that my only other marketable skill is frying hushpuppies at the fish camp, is the cutback in good, old-fashioned monkey coverage.
Time was, in the heady days of the industry when we recycled $100 bills to produce newsprint and fortified the ink with barrels of rare cognac to ensure the perfect smudge upon the fingertips, the powers-that-be would send me to the far corners of the world for a good monkey story.
No more.
When Japanese media recently reported a rash of rogue monkey sightings in Tokyo, was I, the only investigative journalist in the nation to have seen Godzilla vs. King Kong 37 times, dispatched post-haste to bring back the story to a breathless America yearning for up-to-the-minute monkey news?
No.
When The Associated Press reported Wednesday that a wild monkey ran amuck in a Tokyo train station, eluding 30 policemen with nets and scaring early morning commuters, was I handed a fistful of yen and told to come back with a fair and balanced story to counteract the AP's obvious monkey bias?
No.
Newsroom of yesteryear
But I remember the old days, when newspapers made money hand over ink-stained fist, reporters lived lavishly and monkey stories ruled the day. Come with me now to the newsroom of yesteryear....
"Stevens! Get in my office, pronto!"
"Yes, sir."
"This just came across the teletype. Monkey outbreak in Tokyo. As a responsible media organization, we owe it to the public to provide up-to-the-minute monkey news. You're the city editor, so tell me, who do we have to put on this story?"
Well, sir, there's Bledsoe. It's 9 a.m., so he's already drunk. There's Martin, but he's tied up with the libel attorneys all day. Jenkins is with HR due to the pants incident. That leaves Hollifield."
"Who?"
"Hollifield. New kid. Used to fry hushpuppies at the fish camp, but he can put a subject and verb together on the rare occasion and he's seen Godzilla vs. King Kong 37 times.
"Hollifield! Get in here, pronto!"
"You wanted to see me, chief?"
"What are you working on, kid?"
"I've got a line on a former senator and presidential candidate who may have cheated on his wife and fathered a love child by someone who worked for his campaign."
"You call that news? Leave it to the tabloids. We've got a monkey outbreak in Tokyo."
"Jeepers!"
"You're darn tootin' jeepers."
"I didn't see anything about it on the Internet."
"Internet? What's that?"
"It's like an interconnected electronic web linking people all over the world. It can bring news right to your computer."
"News on the computer? People get their news from the paper, kid. Always have, always will. Now, you've got an unlimited expense account. Money is no object as far as meals and entertainment. Just bring back a Pulitzer Prize-winning monkey story. The company jet is on standby."
"The big jet or the little jet."
"Great Caesar's ghost, son, the big jet. This is a monkey story. You'll have 14 editorial assistants accompanying you as well as Bruno, the company masseuse."
"I thought Serge was the company masseuse."
"Serge is for senior staffers only. You come back with a monkey story that moves some papers, and we'll talk about Serge."
Yep, that's how we would have handled it back in the old glory days of the newspaper industry.
But who is the real victim of less monkey coverage? Me, who doesn't get an all-expense-paid trip to Tokyo and a relaxing massage from Bruno aboard the company jet, or you, the public, with an insatiable appetite for up-to-the-minute, unbiased monkey news?
I say it's me.
■ Scott Hollifield is editor and general manager of The McDowell News. Contact him at P.O. Box 610, Marion, N.C. 28752 or e-mail rhollifield@mcdowellnews.com.
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