What it means to be a reporter

Last year, my buddy Jeff Schnaufer and I went to Washington D.C. to visit some museums. We spent part of one day at the International Spy Museum and later on went to the Newseum. What struck me was the contrast in the two experiences. One institution explored lies and deception. The other celebrated the search for truth and facts.

At the Spy Museum, we had the opportunity to go on a simulated spy mission. We had to solve puzzles, use surveillance equipment, infiltrate a bad guy's headquarters, interrogate a possible double agent and ultimately decide whether to deploy a black ops strike team. At the end, we got to watch the news reports on what had happened, knowing that we could never tell the real story. (They also had a massive display on the Bond movies, so my name got a bit of attention when we picked up the tickets.)

At the Newseum, the experience had been much more static. What stayed with me had been the memorial for all the journalists who died in the line of duty. A pickup truck riddled with bullets. Many reminders of how dangerous journalism could be.

When I had been a journalism professor, the Newseum's website had been an invaluable resource for my classes. But after being at the Spy Museum, the Newseum was a bit of a let down.

If only the Newseum had an immersive experience too. To me, it would be fun if visitors to the Newseum would be handed a notebook and pen and be told, "There's a zoning board meeting in the next room. Go find the lede."

Next they are told, "There's a politician giving a speech in the next room. Go get direct quotes despite the bad acoustics and his habit of occasionally mumbling. Oh, and be ready in case something unexpected happens like a protest or the sudden appearance of his opponent."

Then, "Ok, there's a crime scene next door. Try to get the story even though the police have the area cordoned off and the officers on the scene are instructed not to talk to you."

Then after the Newseum visitor goes home and goes to bed, their phone rings at 11:30 p.m. An angry editor yells at them for flubbing the lede or questions how they got their facts or quotes.

Then as they wake up the next morning, wondering how it all worked out, the clock radio goes off and the morning news announcer reads their lede to them.

Truth be told, I loved being a reporter. You didn't do the job for the money. You did it as a service to the public. The payoff was the adrenalin rush of getting the story, not just first, but correctly. I was despondent when I had to write a correction, but you could not shirk that part of the job. If a mistake happened, you had to correct it and figure out how to avoid that mistake in the future.

Despite what some politicians would tell you, I believe that most journalists work very hard to get the facts right and do it dispassionately. I will have to exclude 24-hour news channels from this. They don't provide 24 hours of news every day. It's more like 23 minutes of the same news, repeated over and over and over, intermingled with spin doctors and pundits.

Here's what I do for my mental sanity. If a major news story breaks, I may turn on the 24-hour news. But once they give the initial facts and start repeating those facts, or when the anchor says, "And now we turn to our panel of experts," that my cue to either switch channels or turn off the TV.

Being a reporter taught me how to listen, how to read people and how to be a quick study on complicated issues.  One downside has been that since I stopped being a reporter, I've had to learn how to be a human being. No, I shouldn't call the same person three times a day until they give me an answer. Human beings don't do that. As a reporter, I learned about life through a unique filter -- everyone I ever talked to knew I was a reporter and was consciously or unconsciously on guard about what they said.

But as I get into politics, I realize my reporting skills are invaluable. It also makes sense to operate as if everything is a matter of public record. Because of my career in newspapers I have already lived a very public life. For example, you can go Google "Ed Bond Los Angeles Times" and read stories I wrote more than 20 years ago.

The advantage to this also goes back to a lesson I learned way back in politics class at St. Joseph's University.

There are no secrets.
At least not permanently.

Even though the International Spy Museum is a monument to lies and deception, its very existence tells you that eventually truth will come out. The Newseum is the testament to that side of the story.

While working on my announcement video, I ended up scanning in a lot of my old clips to pick out which ones to use. So, in the interest of time for anyone who would like to do some background research on me, I am posting all those clips here. Think of it as my own personal Newseum exhibit.

Or if you just have about 3-4 minutes to spare, you might check out this video I made to get a quick overview of what it was like to be a reporter and how I got here.

Cheers!