School’s in … if you believe in it

There’s an old running debate among journalists: Are we a profession or a craft? Generations of journalists before us either did not have a college degree or if they did, it was not from a J-school. That’s because colleges and universities didn’t start journalism programs until the 20th Century.

Some of the most gifted and hard-working journalists I have known do not have a degree. Yet, they are brilliant photographers and strong writers–curious, ethical practitioners of what they and I believe is still a valuable element of democracy.

Interestingly, it is not the non-degree holders who often stir up the debate about the value of a degree in journalism. Some who have that sheepskin exhibit a curmudgeonly, contrarian view about the value of a journalism education. That’s fine. I have reviewed my share of job applications from people with even name brand degrees and not a great deal of acumen in journalism.

I appreciate contrarians. But if you hold that view, then please don’t ask me about how to get into teaching. If you don’t believe in it–journalism and the teaching of it–you shouldn’t waste your time and the students’ time in a classroom. That’s the essence of this piece I wrote for the RTDNA Communicator.


Now, that’s a career

We journalists are competitive by nature. We compete against other news organizations. We even compete against each other in the same newsroom–for a scoop, for the lead story, for the most air time or digital space.
Yet, every once in a while, we pause to note the accomplishments of a worthy competitor, one who is truly a colleague in the community of disparate personalities that is journalism.
Such is the case with this piece I wrote for the RTDNA Communicator. Think about what 45 years looks like in the same business–almost all of it in the same city and same TV station. Now, you’re ready for David Louie’s story.

Avoiding ballot shock

In guiding political coverage in a few newsrooms, I always encouraged the production of a news story about what’s on the ballot each primary and general election.
People usually go into the voting booth knowing for whom they’ll vote at the top of the ticket–president this year, senator in non-presidential cycles. But the further they scan down the ballot, the less they know about the offices and the people who want to occupy them.
This story concerns one of those down ballot races: U.S. Representative. Every two years, all 435 members of the U.S. House are up for re-election.
They have more power than you may realize, as you’ll see in my story published in RTDNA’s Communicator online.



Losing more than a voice

I had already heard the news, first from friends via text messages, then on social media. So by the time I heard a radio story about the sudden death of columnist/talk show host/researcher Amos Brown at age 64, I was no longer in shock.

But I got a second jolt when the news anchor announced that A-Mose (rhymes with dose) Brown had died. There’s an irony Amos himself would have appreciated.

Yes, Amos was an advocate for minority representation in every power base in Indianapolis–government, business, news media, sports and so on. But he also believed in and preached to fellow journalists about knowing your community. Obviously, the radio anchor hadn’t gotten to know Indianapolis very well yet or he would have heard of Amos Brown and would have known how to pronounce his name.

Amos was a transplant, not a native Hoosier. He died last weekend where he was born–in the Chicago area. He was an alumnus of Northwestern University, too.

But he made his career in Indianapolis and earned his place in the Indiana Broadcast Pioneers Hall of Fame. He did it by immersing himself in his adopted city, getting to know the powerful and powerless. The former were often guests on his radio show and the latter called into that program to ask tough questions of those who were his guests.

Many of his loyal listeners or readers of his column in the Indianapolis Recorder may not have known that Amos was also a researcher, a man who could crunch census data and commercial research for his employer, Radio One. He knew the breakdown of different ethnic and socio-economic groups not only by county but down to the ZIP code. He used that research to help his stations’ sales staff but it also informed his journalism.

Intellectually, the man was a sponge. He soaked up more than numbers and names in a Rolodex. He savored old stories about the city and its characters. And he told good stories, too.

Amos also lived in his community. He didn’t just hang back, he put himself forward for the prostate walk and other events. You knew the holidays weren’t far behind when you got an invitation from Amos to attend the Mozel Sanders Thanksgiving Dinner fundraiser at the Outback Steakhouse at 86th and Michigan Rd. That’s the one where members of the media were encouraged to be donors, not just journalists covering the event. Amos was there, doing a live broadcast and meeting folks in between live updates. He was everywhere.

Amos also consumed journalism constantly. He monitored The Star, IBJ and other publications, as well as local TV and radio. He critiqued us in his column–our election coverage, our big investigative reports, our hiring decisions, all of it. If you came away from his column un-singed, you breathed a sigh of relief. If he re-tweeted something you wrote, it was a good day.

This is not a good day. It’s a bad day for Indianapolis and for me. Amos won’t re-tweet this. And we’re all the poorer for it.

Communication 1, Business Model 0

Michael Wolff has brought up an unfashionable topic–the side of the digital revolution its proponents don’t discuss. This is about digital journalism and attempts to support it with advertising.

It hasn’t worked. Wolff, a columnist for USA Today and other organizations and the founder of his own digital start-up, says the business model is broken. News sites attract more and more readers/viewers/users. But advertising isn’t underwriting the costs of those sites.

So-called “old media” are.

Wolff released a book this summer called Television is the New Television. Here’s a link to my piece on the book and an opposing perspective from the Online News Association.

The simple reason the Comcast-Time Warner merger failed

Many articles recently have deconstructed the destruction of the Comcast-Time Warner mega-merger. I read a good one recently that said it’s about the Internet, stupid. It’s not about cable TV and whether the two companies’ coverage regions competed.

That’s good big picture analysis. Time Magazine reports this week that high speed Internet accounts for more revenue at Comcast than cable TV. I get it.

But in a town where politics trumps all and almost nothing gets bipartisan support anymore, Comcast gave Democrats and Republicans something on which they could agree. Comcast service is terrible.

Sure, this was a regulatory issue first. It had to clear the Justice Department and other federal agencies. But those agencies still get funding through Congress. And senators and representatives have constituents who can share horror stories of poor big cable company service–whether in a red state or blue state.

Take mine, which happened a few minutes ago.

I called three times to finally reach a human being who could explain to me why my bill went up earlier this year. I tried to call right when I got the new bill but couldn’t get through. I knew I would have to set aside business hours to make the call and block out a chunk of time to cut through the voice mail system to get a person to finally tell me that my modem fee, broadcasting fee and another fee all went up by varying amounts.

Utility mindset

All that points to the fact that Comcast has a utility mindset in a competitive era. I can order satellite TV from one competitor and high-speed Internet from another or skip the “TV” service altogether and just order individual programs through the online program cafeteria. It’s not like a power company or other true utility.

I have options now. But Comcast, in passing along an arbitrary rate hike, hasn’t figured that out yet.

My phone adventure

So back to my phone call(s) today: They each begin the same, welcoming me, offering the Spanish language option and then asking for the last four digits of my phone number. That sends me to a series of prompts. I pick the one about questions on my bill. At this point on the first call, a new, upbeat female recorded voice jumps in to joyfully inform me that Comcast has a new easy to remember customer service number. She reads it and boom. I’m cut off.

Dial a second time. Same prompts and again, I get past the verification stage. This time, when I punch “questions about my bill,” I am invited to find a link on a website that will play a video that promises to answer my questions. Really? How can it be a mind reader and know my questions enough in advance to record a video to answer them? Amazing. Oh, and when I don’t choose that option, I’m cut off again.

The third time, I actually made it to a human being. I felt like the ninth caller in a radio station contest. “What have I won?”

The woman at the other end was a good listener, let me warm up on the issues, answered the billing questions, at least as far as she knew them and even asked me about different numbers I tried. If only the rest of the system worked as well.

Forbes published a piece last winter on the customer service rankings of a couple hundred large companies. A company surveyed 10,000 consumers and the company they ranked as dead last was … Comcast. Just a few positions north was Time-Warner Cable.

You can bet every regulator considering the merger read that survey, too. Eventually, Comcast and Time-Warner decided to yank the deal off the table before Washington pulled the plug. The arguments will continue: cable competition vs. the prominence of high-speed Internet, too much lobbying, too much pressure from Congress. But when Harvard and Wharton schools of business study this, the lesson is bad customer service is bad for big business.

Deflategate scoop and new gigs for scribes

One of the strengths of any good reporter is his or her sources. Reporters who cultivate those plugged-in, behind-the-scenes folks can reap rewards for years.

Bob Kravitz of WTHR proved that when he broke one of the biggest sports stories of the young year: Deflategate. It’s also significant that Kravitz is one of several ex-newspaper reporters who have migrated to TV news websites, as I describe in this piece for the RTDNA Communicator.