Blog for July 20

My birthday is today, and if the cat will get off the paper bag with a present in it, I'll see what a friend gave me. The order of the day is family and friends' cards and calls, a little work, and a picnic along the river with an old beau. Always stay friends with old loves who are nice people, young 'uns.

Report from last week:

1) Touring a dinosaur (ouch!)
2) Inspiring reading, or how not to be intimidated by prize winning journalism when you are beginning
3) profile - learn by doing

touring the dinosaur

We toured the Globe on Thursday, and I'd looked forward to it since I am a compulsive Globe reader. I usually read the bullet headlines, then the Metro, letters, editorials, Living/Arts, obits, and comics, then peek at the national and international news. That's a confession I guess, but I do look at all of it. Here's a rendering of what you get on a Globe tour.

Lori Canarie-McGrath, a publicity staff member who also leads the tours, introduced herself to us and a couple of women. She was what you'd call a "people person," and her stories were peppered with asides and giggles. But the sadness of the difficulty of putting out a daily newspaper in Boston also came through in her stories. We passed a huge marble map of Boston with silver markers at the entrance, took a left past the lino type machine (how did they ever get either of those monsters in the door?), and sat on soft couches for a little spiel about how the paper is made. She showed us "the book," the aluminum backing that gets laser projected from the computer desktop (as I believe she said), and talked about using one plate for black and white and four for color printing. Ads comes first, set up two days ahead of the night of the press run, then after several meetings throughout the day, the best and most important stories for that day are decided at the 7:30 p.m. editorial meeting. The paper is inked during the night, the we saw people cleaning the presses for that night's run during the day. Just last week, I got a big blob of black ink all over a photo and part of a story, so maybe Joe Schmoe was nodding off on the job.


We peeked below at a community room, and walked down long corridors filled with Globe photographs and awards in cases. After passing by Boston.com online writers on the left, news editors along a far window, and the friendly sports writers at the end of one large rooms of cubicles, we entered another room where others of the 150 reporters worked quietly. The oval shaped editorial desk was to our right, and far from deciding some scoop for the next, they were hosting "yet another" going away party. (More on that later.) Lori noted that in the old days, the language would be rough, there would be few women or black people, and the air would be choked with smoke, like in "All the President's Men." Yes, it's more healthy and fair today, but I join her in mourning some of that old lost eccentricity and character.


I also loved the rather charming robots with red beeping lights that that picked up the rolls of heavy paper for the press run. All I could think of was a giant's toilet paper roll on its side. We were told that if they bumped into us, they would stop, but that stepping in front of them was not advised. The mail room was so enormous, full of future Sunday paper inserts and comics, ready two weeks in advance.

I was impressed by the number of women and non white staff people I saw working there--not a lot but more than at Harvard. All ages and all levels, I would guess. The man who kidded Beth Daly (?) about leaving Afghanistan exuded a collegial respect that I noticed. Some young men of color may have been interns; since the building is located in Dorchester, I asked if it employed many Dorchester people, and the tour guide said, alas, not as many as in the old days.

There were many "alas"es, for paper newspapers are gasping for financial air in waters full of internet, cable and satellite television, and downloadable news. In order to stay solvent, there is a lot of contract work to other papers and a lot of synergy, with NECN and Boston.com. If you can't beat 'em (television and internet), join 'em. But there is a definite element of creeping morbidity about newspapers, given the public's desire for fast breaking visually stimulating information, 24 hours a day.

I do not fear for the death of paper or books and newspapers in my lifetime, but it doesn't look good for them. Being "green" is not the problem; paper is recycled and the old myth of killing trees is largely outdated. But the demographic is changing. At 59 (today), I am one who loves and needs the control and texture of paper. I like to pause and ponder, feel the ink and hear the crackle of the Sunday paper. There may be a few of us, but we will endure. How? I don't know--it all comes back to money. As for the Globe, it has gotten smaller and more ad-based. And who has the money for ads? The producers of goods and services for the well off. So the experience of reading it for me is to thumb by "rich people" homes and diamond ads and look for the local news, such as it is.

I wanted to pop into Kevin Cullen's office and thank him for his column of the day on gay marriage, but I didn't want to interrupt him in his office. I would have felt like a groupie.

The presses were the hugest conglomeration of machinery I had ever seen, several stories high, and they weren't even going. I enjoyed knowing how the paper was built thematically--ads first, then space left for most important stories, as decided in editorial meeting throughout the day. A late breaking story would have to bump a less important one, and the finished paper would need to be printed in the evening. Adrenalin rush number one, getting it done for that day's run, and adrenalin rush number two, seeing one's name in print. It is not easy, but the people I saw working there (and, unfortunately a going away party or two, ouch) seemed to feel lucky. I'm wishing Jenifer a good fit when she joins the staff. They said no one had been hired for a year, so mazeltov to Ms. McKim. (Sorry if you think I'm buttering up the teacher, but I'm old enough to know that it is years of hard work coupled with talent that could land such a position.)


great writing: aiming high

Reading the profiles by Barbara Brotman and Andrea Elliot was eye opening. The combination of work ethic and sensitivity to those profiled stands out. I would have read such a piece for my own enjoyment before this class, but now I see all the machinery behind it, and unused notes, the piles of drafts. It's daunting. I must remind myself that (here it comes) the longest journey starts with the first step. If I write today and do my best, tomorrow is another day and as Virginia Woolf said in "To the Lighthouse" I might get from "E" to "F" while others are way down near the "T" or even the "Z" in the alphabet of quality. The point is not to compare but to do one's personal best, given the time allotted. I wish I had more time.

profile of Susan Marine

I gave Susan Marine, Director of the Harvard Women's Center a set of questions and explained that this was a profile, not an interview. I asked about turning points, best and worst times in her two years on the job, family background, education, home life. She came through so clearly as perfect for her job as a mentor of undergraduate women and I hope I can convey the quality of assurance and caring that she seems to have. She was generous with her time, but I couldn't "shadow" her because her summer schedule does not involve teaching or doing what she usually does during the term.