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Sunday, November 1, 2009 5:48 PM CST
COLUMN: It's the story; I'm not ducking it
By HERB MEEKER, Staff Writer
hmeeker@jg-tc.com
The old saying goes that journalists write history every day.
But the problem is that when the public chews on a story long enough the original version is buried in history. And there’s nothing a journalist can do about it.
Consider a story I once wrote on duck hunting at Lake Mattoon. I was there and within spitting distance of the big showdown before the city council that night. Wrote the story as fairly as I could. But exaggeration through the years will eventually transmogrify the view of what happened that night in Mattoon City Hall.
To prove my point let’s move ahead to the future when the grandsons of people who heard about that night are sitting down at a local cafe one fine morning in 2069 talking about the latest hunting rules proposed for Lake Mattoon.
“What you mean we can’t wear our invisibility suits out there? How am I gonna bag a duck if it can see me?”
“Stop whining. It’s not like they banned plasma guns like they did at Lake Edgar by Charleston.”
“How can the city do this, anyway? The city limits stop at Etna to include the casinos and virtual ski slopes but not the lake. It’s going back to Obama-ism I tell you.”
“Stop griping! The city council set the rules way back in 2008. My grandpa told me about that. So they have the power to do it.”
“Oh yeah! I’ve heard about that meeting. Isn’t that where the mayor fired a gun into the ceiling to stop a riot? He was a retired police captain, too. I heard 10 years ago they dug the slug out of the roof when they put in the fire department’s hovercraft landing bay on the city hall roof.”
“No, that’s not right! My dad said he was told one of the commissioners pulled out his Ninja sword and held off some hunters when they rushed for the council table to burn the new hunting rules.”
“That’s crazy!”
“What’s crazy about it? He was a martial arts instructor so he was certified to carry a sword at all times. I guess things were pretty wild in this town back in those days.”
“Yes, I heard my great aunt used to have a Ninja sword by her bed every night back then.”
“No, she had a baseball bat. And she used it on your great uncle when he came home drunked up. That’s why they called him Flathead.”
“Now listen! My grandma was dating a guy who was a second cousin to a guy there that night and she told my Mom once that a cop maced two guys getting ready to go at it that night right there before the council. People went out the place coughing and gagging. It took a week to clean out the mace smell from City Hall.”
“Hold it! I’ve looked up the news story from that night on my JG/T-C Peek Pod and it doesn’t mention anything about what you’ve all been jabbering about.”
“Yes, I’ve got it up here on my screen, too. I heard plenty about the guy who wrote the story, too. When he left the paper he and the sports editor opened up a tavern on Broadway. Now do any of you remember what they called that place?”
“Shut Up & Drink! The name sorta scared off some talkative women from the place. And if you insulted the Chicago Bears or Bobby Knight you’d get thrown out the door.”
“Anyway, my dad talked to that old reporter one night about that council meeting and how the news story didn’t seem to match all the talk going around town on what happened back then.”
“What did he say?”
“He downed a shot of Wild Turkey and said, ‘I stand by my story!’ Then he went off to judge an employee wet T-shirt contest. My dad remembered they had the cutest bartenders in town at that bar. That’s where he met Mom.”
“Are you going to trust some dead, half-wit journalist?”
“Well, that journalist wasn’t the half-wit that shot a hole the size of his head into a float boat on Lake Edgar last fall. And that guaranteed plasma guns are banned on that lake.”
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Rockin Rotty wrote on Nov 1, 2009 11:09 PM:
LOL! "