There Ya Go
Iknow very little about politics, no matter the level. And frankly, I’m fine with that, because I don’t pretend to and I hate the climate we’re living in when it comes to politics versus press.
It’s no secret President Trump loathes the media. He did, after all, coin the phrase “fake news.” But before this week, I have been able to brush off our president’s attitude toward reporters as him being nothing more than a narcissist protecting his blimp-sized ego.
Trump’s hatred toward liberal media runs deep, and that’s OK — sometimes, they deserve it. What bothers me is, I have a feeling that his view of the press has trickled all the way down to us. Why?
Monday evening, I traveled to Cottonwood to cover the HD 15A endorsement. It was the first time I had ever covered such an event.
And the last time. As I entered the community center in Cottonwood with my camera strap draped over my left shoulder, I was greeted by a number of familiar faces, including a couple candidates themselves. We exchanged pleasantries and they thanked me for coming. But my mood changed quickly after that.
One of the big wigs — a former local Senate candidate who is very active in the Republican Party — approached me and shook my hand as well (I shook so many hands within the first 10 minutes upon my arrival that I felt like a candidate myself). She told me that the press typically doesn’t attend these events. Then another mover and shaker joined the conversation, trying to politely say, “Thanks for coming, but …” No, they didn’t show me the door, but I had to literally convince them my intentions were pure and, more importantly, unbiased. The newcomer to the conversation at one time said, ‘Well, these days, you never know …” I was taken aback and immediately felt as if I wasn’t welcomed. Who is this guy? A member of the liberal media? Eventually, they informed me that the night will likely drag on and on, possibly until 11 o’clock or even midnight. It was like they were saying, “Well, you can start mowing, but it’s going to rain, so …” And I did feel unwelcome after that chat. Maybe there’s a reason it wasn’t publicized and I didn’t get a news release.
I have nothing against these people; I don’t even know these two women. But they don’t know me, either. So why didn’t they want me there? Why did I have to talk my way into the event? Why did one of them say I could stay, “As long as you don’t write something negative.”?
There’s a bigger picture here, and I wondered as I drove back to Tracy if Trump’s view toward the press has trickled down to the grass-roots level to the point where paranoia has set here in and permanent guards have been put up.
And this irks me. This scares me. We can’t live in a society where people — politicians or not — don’t trust the media. It won’t work. But I felt compelled to write this when I got back to Tracy, not to rip on these fine people, but to share a feeling of personal trepidation about where the relationship between politicians and the press is going, or has already gone.
I own four newspapers in a very red part of a red state. I do sometimes choose my words carefully because I know my audience. However, believe it or not, I have no political agenda! I couldn’t care less what letter resides behind a politician’s name.
I didn’t leave the party Monday because a couple of people didn’t appreciate my presence. I’m not offended, I’m not hurt. I’m bigger than that. But I am afraid of a relationship we see deteriorating before our eyes thanks to our freespeaking president, and thanks to national media outlets that lean more than the Tower of Pisa. Let’s let them continue their back-and-forth B.S. and leave us little guys out of it. I’m a small-town reporter who owns a few small-town newspapers in fly-over country, papers we’re working seven days a week for as we try to keep them open because we believe in the importance of real, objective journalism.
The funnel of mistrust starts at the top, and it’s as wide as the divide between Republicans and Democrats. And here we are at the bottom, hoping to avoid the shrapnel of Trump’s weekly verbal fist fights with mainstream media, which would just as soon poke fun at the most powerful man in the world than treat him with the respect he deserves (he still is the president, after all). It’s not fair.
But I’m not bitter. I don’t have neither the time, nor the energy to be.
• We said good-bye to three good men this week: Harold Deal, Jim Donner and Donald Engkeles. I didn’t know Harold all that well, but from my sporadic interactions with him, he was a nice guy. Jim, I knew much better. Jim was a longtime bus driver for our school district, including driving us to and from high school sporting events. But I also remember him for his sharp sarcasm. Never did a conversation with him pass that he didn’t make fun of my friends and me for playing basketball in my driveway on an 8-foot-hoop. He never missed a chance to ask me if we were ever going to play on regulation-height basket. As for Engelkes, we all know he was a former owner of the Red Rooster, and he also helped build the horseshoe courts that are still used today. RIP gentlemen.
