The Romance of Journalism

Jeff Pearlman’s podcast is a love letter to writers.

I have a famous namesake.

Jeff Pearlman spells his last name with an “a” but there have been a few times where we’ve been mistaken for each other.

Jeff and I both write. He successfully, me not so much.

The “other” Jeff is a New York Times bestselling author who has had his work made into an HBO series “Winning Time” which tells the story of the NBA’s “showtime” Lakers. Me, I’ve been on local TV, despite having a face for radio.

Jeff and I know each other. He reached out a few years back when he ran for local office in New York.

I think he wanted to know if I had any left-over campaign signs. Anyway, we struck up a friendship and Jeff interviewed me for his series called “Quaz” (don’t ask me what it means). The Quaz covers a range of people from John Oates (the quiet half of Hall & Oates) and ESPN anchor Linda Cohn (my childhood friend and big sister of a close friend) to business leaders and girlfriends of the Kevin Arnold character on the Wonder Years. Let’s just say it’s an eclectic and fun collection. I’m proud to be a part of the canon. Here’s a link: https://jeffpearlman.com/2016/03/01/jeff-perlman/

Anyway, these days Jeff is doing a lot of things from writing his next bestseller, a bio of Tupac Shakur, to building a Tik Tok following (over 200,000 followers) and hosting a beautiful podcast called “Two Writers Slinging Yang.”

Rarely can you describe a podcast as being beautiful, but “Two Writers Slinging Yang” is a warm tribute to journalism and journalists. What I love about it is that Jeff features those who toil in the trenches. We see plenty of “celebrity” journalists on cable TV and other podcasts, but Jeff shines a spotlight on the journalists who rarely get (nor seek) shout-outs.

Examples include Scott Agness, a beat writer who covers the Indiana Pacers and Indiana Fever and Sarah Leach, a crusading editor of the Holland Sentinel who was wrongly fired by the evil corporate overlords who have put a nail in the coffin of local journalism throughout our land.

Jeff describes “Two Writers” as a labor of love, a chance to celebrate writers he admires.

My favorite recent episode is an interview with a young journalist named Sam Pausman, a writer/photographer for The Wrangell (Alaska) Sentinel. Sam relocated 4,284 miles from Maine to rural Alaska to take his first journalism job for a weekly paper in a town of 2,000 people.

The podcast focuses on Sam’s efforts to connect with people he doesn’t know in a community he doesn’t know in a place far, far from home.

Sam’s an earnest young reporter, dogged and sincere in his desire to learn his beat and serve his readers.

Sam doesn’t own a car, lives over a bar/restaurant and does it all—including schlepping papers and learning to love the local cuisine.

I was swept away by his story, and I related to large parts of it. I too moved (1,321.1 miles) to take a job at a newspaper soon after college. I too worked hard to connect with people I didn’t know in a community I didn’t know.

I also schlepped papers at my first full-time newspaper job from the officers of the Valley News in Vestal N.Y. to the post office after we spent hours putting mailing labels on the front page over pizzas with my co-workers in a musty room in an old school. I never had more fun.

At the time, I felt journalism was a calling. My calling. I’ve since had a few others. But I look back at those old newspaper days with great fondness. I saw myself in Sam and thanks to Jeff Pearlman I got to meet him via Spotify.

I think about my old newspaper days often. I worked in newsrooms brimming with characters. They were smart, creative, sarcastic, funny and tough. They taught me so much.

In the newsroom of the old South Florida Newspaper Network I remember the presidential election of 1992, when Bill Clinton was elected. I worked near two old scribes—Syd Magill and Al Kaufman who had seen it all. If the young reporters said something stupid—as we were prone to do—they corrected us. Syd with a smile and a pat on the back. Al with a cutting remark. I adored them both.

For the life of me, I can’t remember what happened to Syd. I just know that he left the paper before I did. But I do remember the day that Al was laid off, by the same corporate B.S. that Jeff Pearlman often laments on his podcast.

Seeing Al pack up his desk and say goodbye to a career he loved hit all of us hard. Shortly thereafter I decided to leave of my own volition to start my own publication and become an entrepreneur. I wanted to control my own fate, even though being on your own is a lonely, hard and risky choice.

I have no regrets, but more than a few scars. I was a lucky one—it worked out for me. It didn’t for many of my old colleagues, one of whom ended up living in a car in a Boca parking lot. I met him for a cup of coffee one day, having not known about his rough road since we parted years before. He showed up with a broken arm—someone had reached into his car window and tried to rob him. He fought back and broke a bone.

“Jeff,” he said. “I can’t afford to lose what little I have. I have nothing more to lose.”

Those words stung. He offered to sell me his autographed photo of Muhammad Ali. “The Greatest” had come to Deerfield Beach back in the day and I remember when my colleague went out on that assignment. I was jealous, I wanted to meet Ali.

Of course, I didn’t want to buy his prized possession. And he turned down my offer to help. I never saw him again and I don’t know what happened to him, but I think about him—a lot.

If you’ve been in journalism in recent times, you saw the best and the worst of this important but often maligned profession.

My namesake Jeff Pearlman shares it all. He shines a spotlight on the people doing great work and the people who have been bruised by this business.

A guy like Sam Pausman, talented, sincere and courageous deserves success. I hope he finds it. We need journalists. They are not the enemy of the people; they are the shining lights of Democracy.

 

 

 

 

An Opportunity to Learn

Learning

Editor’s Note: This is our last blog of 2015, we are going to enjoy the holidays and take a break. We do want to wish our readers a Merry Christmas and a Happy and Safe New Year. We have enjoyed the conversation and look forward to more dialogue in 2016. But before we sign off, we want to wish our old friend Randal Krejcarek, Delray’s Environmental Services Director a fond farewell as he leaves for a terrific opportunity. Randal was always a class act, a talented professional and a pleasure to work with. He went above and beyond and he will be deeply missed. He’s just a great guy.

I had lived in Delray Beach for 13 years when I ran for the City Commission in 2000.

For a decade, my job was to cover city government, which meant I attended just about every City Commission meeting, CRA meeting, planning and zoning meeting, DDA meeting and community gathering that occurred.

I rode with cops and firefighters, was involved with the Chamber of Commerce, non-profits such as Old School Square and Pineapple Grove Main Street and served on the Sister Cities Committee. I knew just about every community leader from neighborhood association presidents and union bosses to city department heads and prominent local business leaders. I even knew a great many of the city’s most notorious criminals—and interviewed a few of them in prison.

When I left the paper around ’97, I started my own publications that covered schools, sports, crime and education and got know teachers, principals, School Board members, coaches, athletes, boosters and more cops , volunteers and criminals.

So I thought I knew a lot about Delray Beach when I got elected and I did, sort of.

But I also had gaps in my knowledge a mile wide and 10 miles deep.

I was a well-trained rookie, but I was still a rookie.

I remember an orientation meeting with then City Manager David Harden, where I was handed a copy of the City Charter, a thick budget book and a giant copy of the city’s land development regulations, comp plan and other documents. I barely made it back to the car. I had a similar meeting with then City Attorney Susan Ruby.

When you get elected you are expected to learn the following: municipal finance, land use law, labor relations, pensions, budgets, capital improvement plans, county/city relations, community development block grants, how debt works, municipal law, historic preservation, emergency management policies, municipal insurance and a whole lot more.

The formal education was just beginning—the informal one begins once you’re on the job and truthfully you never stop learning the nuances of leadership. That piece is ongoing with lessons earned and learned from every issue and interaction. It’s a remarkable experience.

Local government even has its own language: LDR’s, the difference between a waiver and a variance, conditional use, something called “smoothing” (a pension term) and my favorite: effluent flows (look it up) because a perk of the job is you also sit on the sewer board for Boynton Beach and Delray.

Some of it fascinated me. Some of it confused me. Some of it made me yawn and some of it was so cool that I wanted to learn as much as possible.

In my opinion, the two areas where city officials should spend their time and develop some chops are land use and budgeting.

Like in any business, cash flow, revenues, expenses, debt service and all that happy stuff is critically important. While you have a city manager, a few assistant city managers, outside auditors and a finance department you cannot be an effective elected official without an understanding of how you fund and charge for government services.

So you need learn to read and understand budgets, monthly financial analyses and year end reports.

I had managed newspaper budgets for a corporate parent and my own small publishing company so I had a basic understanding of finances. In fact, we were so lean I knew my cash position every moment of every day. I knew if I didn’t collect receivables in a timely fashion, those who worked with me wouldn’t be able to pay their bills.

As an elected official, you are in an oversight capacity, so the checkbook resides elsewhere but you learn quickly that you have a fiduciary responsibility and that 60,000 people and all the businesses in your town will come looking for you if things go wrong.

But my favorite part of my municipal education was in the land use arena; planning and redevelopment. I absolutely fell in love with it all—architecture, urban design, streetscapes and what it takes to create a successful downtown.

I read everything I could find—books, articles, magazines, the works of New Urbanist thought leaders –and began to look at cities differently when I travelled. The national Main Street program, Florida League of Cities, Urban Land Institute and American Planning Association were also sources I mined for information and insights.

Back in those days, we would travel to other cities for conferences and to glean ideas and learn from communities that had wrestled with similar challenges. More often than not, we’d take neighborhood leaders and city staff with us so we could learn together. We bonded during these trips which took us out of our everyday surroundings and exposed us to new ideas, approaches and ways to solve problems. We made friends across the country and talked up our city everywhere we went.

In short order, we were hosting groups in Delray to show them what we had done here—hits and misses, triumphs, defeats and lessons learned. It’s gratifying to share experiences with others on a similar path.

Over the years I have been visited by several people who aspire to be elected officials. They ask to meet for endorsements, campaign donations or to see if I would introduce them to people who might get them votes, more cash and endorsements.

I get it. It’s a necessary part of the process. But increasingly, I’m running into people who seem to be less interested in the subject matter and more interested in attaining the office. They seem sadly unaware of the opportunity to make a difference and more interested in personal power.

I pine for those aspirants who do more listening than talking; I observe whether they can stop long enough to seek information rather than just tell me how great and smart they are.

I look for people hungry to learn—who ask questions, who have done their homework about the community’s they seek to serve. How can you serve if you aren’t curious or willing to learn? How can you lead without first seeking to understand?

I run into a lot of people who think they are the smartest people in the room; regardless of which room they are in. I try to avoid them. They can’t learn, because if you are smarter than everyone else what can you learn?

I was uniquely prepared as a result of my newspaper job, but in hindsight, I knew very little. But I did know enough to ask questions and seek knowledge—that’s what reporters do. The better ones anyway.

How else do you learn? How else can you serve? How can you lead if you keep your own counsel?

The answer is you can’t.