Talking to the Media
Yesterday's Hutchinson News had a very nice article based on a visit to Pilgrim Grade School where Seth Miggiani was a student until his death, along with conversations with neighbors of the Miggiani family, and their pastor.
I often hear negative comments about media presence at times of stress or sorrow. But I, for one, am glad that not everyone refuses to talk to the media.
We'd probably be pretty sure that something is wrong with a person who races to be the first to spread any word of disaster. But I wonder if something is just as wrong with a person who runs to hide when the media comes calling.
Years ago I heard the mother of Chet Bitterman speak about her son's untimely death. He was a Wycliffe missionary who had been kidnapped in South America and held for ransom. When ransom was not paid (in keeping with Wycliffe policy against doing so), he was executed. She said that during the saga they felt duty-bound to speak to the press when they were asked, believing at first that it might help their son, and throughout, believing that it would further the cause of Christ by giving a Christian witness in the midst of tragedy. Mrs. Bitterman's view has helped shape mine.
I also remember that the Bittermans eventually defined limits in their availability to the press. As I recall, they informed everyone that they would be available at 9:00 every morning. That gave them more privacy than the "catch them coming and going" approach did. Mrs. Bitterman had kind words for the way the press honored their request. This example informs my view as well. Setting boundaries involving time and place for granting interviews may be necessary, and certainly has merit.
People differ in their ability and motivation to verbalize what they think and feel, and I sympathize with people who shrink from having their words go on record. I was misquoted in an article someone did on my farmer's market flower business. It was certainly not a sensitive issue and didn't involve an important detail, but it didn't make any sense, and I really would have preferred that my perfectly sensible comment would have appeared instead of the mangled version.
The same reporter who wrote my story did the great article in yesterday's paper. By now I know her to be a pleasant lady who would not intentionally misrepresent something. That kind of confidence in the integrity of a member of the press is not always possible, but a basic optimism regarding others' goodwill is probably a useful stance toward reporters, as well as others. A touch of that reporter's just-like-us humanity and goodwill, for example, was revealed on that long ago summer evening after I wished her a good evening and she told me "It's been a good evening so far."
"What makes it a good evening for a reporter?" I asked.
"When there are no accidents to report on," she answered.
I can't imagine that probing the aftermath of the accident that took Seth's life was a pleasure for her. I would like to think that, like us, she wanted to bring some redeeming value to the tragedy (and earn her paycheck too, of course). People being willing to speak to her helped make that happen.
In an early broadcast reporting on Sunday's accident, some KSN reporter had obviously flagged down several unsuspecting women in Partridge when he needed a sound bite. Ruth (our closest neighbor at the Trail West house) and her daughter Ernestine came through with some appropriate words, but I seriously doubt that either of them knew personally or perhaps had ever heard of anyone involved in the accident. Both of them live in the country a good distance away from where the accident happened four miles outside of the town of Partridge. "There's our truck," Grant exclaimed when he saw the KSN clip. It was an Oatney truck lumbering along on its way to or from the Partridge elevator. This is a good example of what can happen when the people who are most closely involved in an event are either unavailable or unwilling to speak. Some random person gets called on to speak, or a truck on a grain dumping mission is featured instead.
It doesn't take much to do better than that.
I often hear negative comments about media presence at times of stress or sorrow. But I, for one, am glad that not everyone refuses to talk to the media.
We'd probably be pretty sure that something is wrong with a person who races to be the first to spread any word of disaster. But I wonder if something is just as wrong with a person who runs to hide when the media comes calling.
Years ago I heard the mother of Chet Bitterman speak about her son's untimely death. He was a Wycliffe missionary who had been kidnapped in South America and held for ransom. When ransom was not paid (in keeping with Wycliffe policy against doing so), he was executed. She said that during the saga they felt duty-bound to speak to the press when they were asked, believing at first that it might help their son, and throughout, believing that it would further the cause of Christ by giving a Christian witness in the midst of tragedy. Mrs. Bitterman's view has helped shape mine.
I also remember that the Bittermans eventually defined limits in their availability to the press. As I recall, they informed everyone that they would be available at 9:00 every morning. That gave them more privacy than the "catch them coming and going" approach did. Mrs. Bitterman had kind words for the way the press honored their request. This example informs my view as well. Setting boundaries involving time and place for granting interviews may be necessary, and certainly has merit.
People differ in their ability and motivation to verbalize what they think and feel, and I sympathize with people who shrink from having their words go on record. I was misquoted in an article someone did on my farmer's market flower business. It was certainly not a sensitive issue and didn't involve an important detail, but it didn't make any sense, and I really would have preferred that my perfectly sensible comment would have appeared instead of the mangled version.
The same reporter who wrote my story did the great article in yesterday's paper. By now I know her to be a pleasant lady who would not intentionally misrepresent something. That kind of confidence in the integrity of a member of the press is not always possible, but a basic optimism regarding others' goodwill is probably a useful stance toward reporters, as well as others. A touch of that reporter's just-like-us humanity and goodwill, for example, was revealed on that long ago summer evening after I wished her a good evening and she told me "It's been a good evening so far."
"What makes it a good evening for a reporter?" I asked.
"When there are no accidents to report on," she answered.
I can't imagine that probing the aftermath of the accident that took Seth's life was a pleasure for her. I would like to think that, like us, she wanted to bring some redeeming value to the tragedy (and earn her paycheck too, of course). People being willing to speak to her helped make that happen.
In an early broadcast reporting on Sunday's accident, some KSN reporter had obviously flagged down several unsuspecting women in Partridge when he needed a sound bite. Ruth (our closest neighbor at the Trail West house) and her daughter Ernestine came through with some appropriate words, but I seriously doubt that either of them knew personally or perhaps had ever heard of anyone involved in the accident. Both of them live in the country a good distance away from where the accident happened four miles outside of the town of Partridge. "There's our truck," Grant exclaimed when he saw the KSN clip. It was an Oatney truck lumbering along on its way to or from the Partridge elevator. This is a good example of what can happen when the people who are most closely involved in an event are either unavailable or unwilling to speak. Some random person gets called on to speak, or a truck on a grain dumping mission is featured instead.
It doesn't take much to do better than that.
posted by Mrs. I at
2:45 AM
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