Not quite.

I kept it short -- 2m47s -- I seriously had enough for more, and expected to run more like 4 minutes, but fit the bare essentials in under 3. I don't know what's up with that. It's nice to know I *can* write concisely under pressure when I *really* want to. Or maybe the story really *is* that simple. Or maybe I'm reporting shallowly. I honestly don't know, but I have my suspicions.

Weird how it works -- tremendous enthusiasm keeps me working on it, then it airs, and all I can think about is how much better it should have been and what I should have done to round it out which would have made it stronger and more compelling.

Then, thanks to this being public radio, I start to *realise* what I *was* missing.

I hate to admit: I'm beginning to appreciate NPR, and not just for its production values. And I'm starting to think critically about Amy Goodman. She had a water activist on today who *didn't* answer a question she'd asked (about water filtration), but completely evaded with a pat, rehearsed answer that didn't even address the question. Ms. Goodman let her slide -- *didn't* press her on it, even slightly -- then simply moved on to the next issue at hand.

I applaud Ms. Goodman for having the activist on air, and certainly stand in *no* position to lecture her over interview technique! Still, I found myself yelling and gesticulating at the radio during her show today (behaviour which I usually reserve for NPR). *That's* the sort of thing people think of when who call what she does "advocacy" as distinct from "journalism", and it's what phone room volunteers at public radio stations get the brunt of. If I had *only* heard today's interview and her President Clinton interview, I might quite well agree with them. She *does* question the president and an activist differently. I understand the reasons that she does it, and doubt *any* interviewer treats *everyone* in *exactly* the same way. I've seen the *same* thing work the *other* way around on NPR far, far more often. (Letting officials slide on their evasions, while badgering activists.) But this struck me quite clearly, today: why undermine your credibility like that? Take the 30 seconds to a minute ask a tough question and get a solid answer.

My story was good -- solid as a rock -- but my reporting on it was weak. Period.

I'm seeing more clearly in her work what I am too close to see in my own, until it airs, and the damage is done. She's *usually* better than that. It's nice to see her make a mistake -- maybe that means there's hope for me. If not, I guess I'll just read funding credits. And it's still frustrating. I *have to* be better.

I love public radio. Everyone is so insanely ethical. Writing and editing and all that is grand, but you'll *still* get called on the rug for what may be an ethical lapse.

Which is not to complain. I'd rather it be that way than people tell me "your voice is good, so we're airing the thing you just did, even though it riddled with factual errors".

Long story short: the PRC is launching an inquiry into Institutional Operator Service Providers (IOSPs). Those are the phone companies that provide the service of collect calls from the jails. There are widespread complaints that such services are grossly overcharging the families of incarcerated persons, and even demanding deposits of calls' recipients, in violation of existing regulations. The effect is to punish -- not convicted criminals -- but their families. Much as I love existing KUNM coverage, incarcerated populations in the state remains mostly invisible.

My mistake?

I did a story about the investigation without managing to so much as say that "such-and-such IOSP couldn't be reached for comment". Which they couldn't, even though I *did* try. Bad timing screwed me up. (I only finished editing the story a few minutes to air; and guess what: PRC Commissioners' offices *don't* open at five AM.)

I could go and get mad at whatever person pointed it out (one of several, really) but it's true, and the people who pointed out my story's weakness were generally right. The story would have been *way* stronger if I'd just known from whom get a comment -- or even a "no comment".

It's not deliberate advocacy journalism, but unless my story includes at least a refusal to comment, it sure as hell looks like advocacy. And heaven help the person in CONTROL when it airs.

Yes, listeners complain about that sort of thing.

Journalism's a bitch. But I enjoy the challenge.

Looking at my own story after the fact, I'm inclined to agree. I might as well do a story on elves, faeries, or leprochauns -- based solely on what people say about them. "They're tricky, and evasive, and clever, and guard pots of gold at the end of rainbow", says so-and-so, who's not an elf or leprochaun himself. The leprochauns could not be reached for comment.

Screw it.

I messed up. I wasn't fighting for any cause, I just didn't bother to get a response. "Rules of evidence" mayy not formally, legally apply to what I'm doing, but I *must* give those people accused of wrongdoing a chance to respond, if I don't wish to be acused of wrongdoing, myself.

I'm stil following this story and now have the numbers of some elves and leprochauns to call for comment.

And I'll be damned if there aren't more stories coming up all the time.

I'm out of practice.

Tine to get back into it.