A Year in the Life
"Newspaper fire orange" by NS Newsflash is licensed under CC BY 2.0.
Newspaper correspondents lead similar lives to the people they cover, despite the unique job.
For 20 years, I worked full-time for a community bilingual newspaper in English and Spanish in Chicago (we later moved to Cicero, Illinois) called Lawndale News, first as a newspaper correspondent and then as editor. In all that time, five things remained consistent.
First, I sought the truth.
Second, no matter what the circumstances were, I did my job to the best of my ability. This included going into gang infested neighborhoods, and yes, being threatened by gangs with injury or death for being on their "turf" to get a news story.
Third, I had to meet the deadline no matter what. It did not matter how many hours I put in; when the deadline came I had to have the stories ready for publication two days later.
Fourth, the bread and butter of the newspaper were the local communities it served. Hence, around 95 percent of the time I had to get the stories from where our readers lived. Maybe I might have a news story that was not part of community news, but that was rare.
Finally, no matter how I may have felt, I was expected to do the job. We all were. For the most part this meant no sick days, and no vacation time. It was more than just a job; it was a life's commitment.
An unwritten rule was that I could have no weapon on my person. No firearms, because that would jeopardize my status as a neutral observer. I was the only one who could not go to a gunfight with a gun even if it meant I could be injured, maimed or killed.
Normally, from one week to the next, I went to the office, looked through all of the mail and e-mails, got a hold of people to get a story, went into the neighborhoods or wherever to get both photos and do interviews, and then wrote it all up and turned it in. Things normally went quietly that way from week to week.
The one danger, as I just mentioned, were the gangs who from time to time threatened me for going into their "turf." One thing that has always stuck in my mind were the number of crosses and small memorials of people who had been killed by stray bullets fired by gangs during their intermittent turf wars. These crosses could be found in people's front yards, on sidewalks leading to the nearby grocery store or bakery, or on neighborhood playgrounds.
In too many cases the gangs had turned the areas into battlegrounds, and it got so bad police convoys had to escort children to school and back home so they would not be shot at. It was in this world that I had too often times ventured to get stories. My wife was not always sure if I would come home safe or come back in a wheelchair or a casket.
Some neighborhoods in Chicago are pretty rough places.
One other constant was that because of the shared experiences the newspaper staff has had over the years, we built a pretty strong unbreakable bond. We all dealt with the same things, and went through the same experiences. Some years we had it good, and some years we had it real bad. We had many close calls, and some triumphs as well as sad moments.
When we were out getting stories, we worked alone no matter what the risks. However, we supported each other's work and endeavors to get the story. Our job was always a curious one.
Even though the newspaper never had an official policy on recreational drug use, none of us ever used drugs. We could not do the job if we were stoned. Likewise, none of us were alcoholics either, even though this kind of job could drive people to drink. Even though we were doing local community news, the job demanded that we be clean-cut, dedicated, and adhere to the highest standards possible.
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How we were treated depended on the attitudes of the general public from one year to the next, and indeed from one presidential administration to the other. I worked through three presidential administrations.
During the Bill Clinton presidency, I was treated with a great deal of respect and even awe. This changed abruptly in 2001 under President George W. Bush after the Al-Qaeda attacks on the United States on Sept. 11, 2001. I could see in the attitudes of many people a kind of suspicion that I was no longer some "trustworthy person."
Indeed, the Bush Administration sometimes made it seem like journalists were aiding and abetting Al-Qaeda and all enemies of the United States. It was an era of fear and paranoia about the next Al-Qaeda attacks; many wondered if there were Fifth Columnists operating on American soil.
The attitude changed slightly when Barack Obama became president. By then the worst of the paranoia had subsided. While journalists were not seen quite as friendly, they were not seen as working with the enemy either. I had fewer people trying to keep me at a distance than during the Bush years, but the relationships were not entirely the same as they had been, either.
Then came Donald Trump. Many people, especially his supporters, suddenly saw journalists as the enemy. Seeing Trump supporters surround, threaten, harass and even beat up journalists was especially terrifying to me.
Fortunately, I had retired from almost all duties with the newspaper by then except for doing commentary, so I did not have to deal with whatever hostility could have come my way. Under our current president, Joe Biden, America seems to have swung back to the position of journalists still being viewed with some suspicion, but not seen as an enemy.
As I write my weekly commentary, I cannot but help feel the whole whirlwind of history which enveloped how I did my job. I had been viewed with respect, suspicion and even at times hostility for doing my job.
The big problem all along has been in not viewing people like me as being people. Journalists are human too, and we do our profession to not only get at the truth but to support our families. Like everyone else, we have loved ones who depend on us, and we lead lives no different from how other families live. We have spouses, we see our children grow up, we have to take care of the bills as well as our everyday lives, and we wonder as much as anyone what the future will hold.
As I write my commentary, I can only hope my readers will realize I have no more answers to what happens in life any more than they do.
Daniel Nardini spent 22 years as a newspaper correspondent for Lawndale News and The Fulton Journal. He has published six books, including his eyewitness account of the Tiananmen Square Massacre, The Day China Cried. He is listed as an Illinois author in the Illinois Center for the Book.
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The Modern Whig Institute is a 501(c)(3) civic research and education foundation dedicated to the fundamental American principles of representative government, ordered liberty, capitalism, due process and the rule of law.
Opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Institute or its members.
