Good to hear from some fellow retirees and a few of those who still retain full and part-time employment at the Flint Journal.I guess the editorial boss is now breathing a sigh of relief with the last of the old curmudgeons finally gone from his newsroom. In fact, he said as much in a recent meeting with the reporters left behind.
Although he didn't actually refer to us as pond scum, I heard he referred to some of us as "characters," but said now that we were gone what was left was the "cream of the crop."
One of my retired colleagues was offended by the comment, I simply thought it was funny and very typical of someone out-of-touch with the news gathering process. I mean what editor wouldn't relish the departure of many of the most experienced employees with decades of institutional experience in collecting news and writing stories.
And while many of the folks still at the FJ are fine reporters and great writers, even they know that some of the cream has left.
Heck, some of the people the top editor tried to convince to stay as part of the "cream," walked out the door not convinced that he and his lieutenants had the competence or horsepower to make things work. I guess they weren't "cream" after all.
Truth be known, some of those left behind only wish they had been in a position to take the buyout and escape.
That said, many of us have friends, good friends at the FJ and we do wish them well and hope that they can find the winning combination to return the paper to profitability and greatness. We simply remain skeptical that the generals leading them into the battle are up for the job. (There's a little cliche of my own).
On the happy side, the editor wants to raise morale and increase fun in the newsroom with big raises and overtime. That's was a joke, what is proposed to raise morale are regular potlucks.
Yeah, a good meatball, celery tray or cheese and cracker spread beats a pay raise and overtime any day.
One of my former colleagues called me to relate some of the above and mentioned that "Mattel" must be branded on the editor somewhere because there is simply too much "plastic" coming out of his office.
Don't know if I would go that far, but there is a certain element of being "out-of-touch." My model for an editor with integrity was the recent Los Angeles Times editor who told his bosses to stuff it when they ordered him to dismantle his newsroom and retired himself. Of course, the bosses found another person willing to sell his/her soul to do the dirty work of cleaning house, but at least the old editor kept his integrity intact.
2 comments:
It seems there's no end to the jaw-dropping arrogance coming from the Flint Journal editor's office: Now he decrees that with all of those pesky experienced reporters and editors gone, the few who remain, along with the new hires, are the "cream of the crop." Well, to continue the dairy analogy, I guess the proof will be in the pudding ... in any sane person's book that's increased circulation.
But really, if the editor knew anything about inspiring and managing, he wouldn't try to boost morale by insinuating to the troops that their former colleagues were "characters" -- a sanitized way of saying they had outlived their usefulness. But hey, this is the same guy who didn't have the class to shake people's hands on their way out.
The message this behavior sends to those left is "Don't forget that just like the people you replaced, you, too, are disposable." To your point, Jim, that's why there was such an exodus to Door Number Buyout.
And contrived "morale boosters" like potlucks are a cruel joke. Who has time to play Rachael Ray when you're covering three major beats?
I'm usually leery of managers who say they want the workplace to be "fun." Work can be rewarding, work can be stimulating and it can be challenging. But it is not "fun" to share crudites with editors who arrive after you arrive, leave before you leave and then berate you for not having the energy to belt out that ninth story. It is not "fun" to work 14 hours and get paid for 8, even if if you replace the deviled eggs on the potlock table with lobster thermidor.
Pay people fairly for the hours they work. Trust them invest the proceeds in making their own fun.
So the big boss says that the remaining reporters at the Flint Journal are "the cream of the crop," obviously giving the back of his hand to those who had the good fortune to be able to take the buyout and jump out the crumbling sweatshop that was once a decent newspaper.
While it is true that there are a few damn good journalists left among those who remain on his skeleton staff, the editor (as usual) fails to admit that there's not enough of them to do the job. Of course, he and his handpicked lieutenants continue to be unable to lead a trip to the bathroom, let alone a shrinking newspaper. And, as has been the case for a few years now, the dunce who runs the newsroom still wouldn't know a real news story if it kicked him in the ass, as he is so out of touch with readers.
How out of touch? Here's an example: A week or so back, a friend who lives in suburban Flint was buying tires at a local auto service business, sitting in the waiting room with several other customers during the middle of the day, when that day's newspaper arrived. One of the tire store guys walked in with several copies of the paper in his hand and offered them to the customers. "Anybody want the Journal?" he asked.
NOT ONE PERSON in that waiting area responded to the offer to read a FREE paper, preferring to read months-old magazines and whatever they'd brought with them to read as they awaited their cars in Burton.
Not one person wanted the paper? Really? Even at no charge?
Nope, my pal said, not one.
The Journal editors should be embarrassed and humiliated by such an example of their failure to put out a meaningful, desirable and even vaguely interesting product that maybe one-in-eight random people with nothing to do would want to look at on a weekday afternoon. But now then the editors apparently think they're doing a helluva bang-up job, don't they? More importantly, the publisher, Dave Sharp, should be alarmed by this, but then he's whittled down his payroll to profitability. Right?
Good luck, Flint Journal staffers. Maybe the potlucks will help newsroom morale, and maybe pigs will grow wings and fly around with buckets of money.
Lamont Cranston
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