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And the worst deal of all is….

Posted in journalism, Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 16, 2010| 1 Comment »

At 6:38 p.m. on Friday, The Star’s web site, kansascity.com, posted a headline that said, “Sprint-Nextel merger among the nation’s worst, Bloomberg says.”

Well, the headline certainly piqued my interest, so I clicked on the headline to see the story. 

That’s where things got more interesting. The story, written by The Star’s Mark Davis, was about a Bloomberg evaluation of bad deals, based on a benchmark index that Bloomberg had formulated.  

As the headline suggested, Davis led his story with the Sprint-Nextel deal, saying it was the third worst deal out of 100 that Bloomberg had ranked.

But Davis waited until the fourth — and second-to-last paragraph — to unveil a surprise. Which deal do you think ranked at the top of Bloomberg’s list? What was the worst merger or acquisition among the entire 100? Give up? Well, it was none other than McClatchy’s $4.1 billion purchase of Knight Ridder in 2006.

The Star, of course, is one of the papers that McClatchy obtained in that infamous transaction.

Odd, then, isn’t it, that Davis and Star editors chose to highlight the Sprint-Nextel merger when the very worst deal was, literally, right under their noses? I’m sure that Star editors would rationalize the leapfrogging act by arguing that Sprint is locally based and has far more employees in this area than McClatchy. 

That’s true, but The Star is no small employer; has at least as high a profile locally as Sprint; and…well, No. 1 means No. 1, right? 

The Star could have gone a long way toward presenting an intellectually honest account by simply changing the headline to say, “Sprint-Nextel, McClatchy-Knight Ridder deals among the nation’s worst, Bloomberg says.” It could have kept the story exactly as it was, even while fudging on the rankings. Instead, The Star took the low road.

There’s a saying in the news business for what Davis did. It’s called “burying your lead.” What that means is that the biggest, most interesting news is down low in a story, rather than at the top, where it should be.

And that’s just what Davis and Star editors did. They took the biggest and hardest kick at Sprint — a more convenient target — and gave their parent company the equivalent of a slap on the wrist.

Here’s what Bloomberg’s Zachary R. Mider said in his initial story, which Bloomberg posted on Thursday and which spawned Davis’ story:

“McClatchy’s purchase of the Knight Ridder Inc. newspaper chain, for $4.1 billion in 2006, ranked the worst of the 100 on Bloomberg’s list, with McClatchy shares underperforming the Bloomberg Advertising Age AdMarket 50 Index by 93 percentage points. Sacramento, California-based McClatchy borrowed cash to buy the chain as newspaper real-estate advertising plunged.”

All I can say is shame on you, KC Star, shame on you for playing a journalistic shell game.

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Tulsa….a place to grow

Posted in journalism, Uncategorized on August 13, 2010| 3 Comments »

Let me tell you about my trip to Tulsa.

It’s a meandering sort of story — the kind that, if I’d come across as an editor at The Star, I would have told the reporter, “Let’s get on with it!” But I think you’ll enjoy it for what it is, the story of a father helping his 20-year-old son get set up in his first house. 

Charlie and I left Kansas City about noon Tuesday — two hours behind schedule — with the goal of getting him settled in the house that he and a classmate, Eric, are renting a few blocks from the University of Tulsa.

They’re both juniors. Charlie lived in the dorm his first year and in a fraternity house last year. Eric found the house over the summer, on South College Avenue, while driving around looking for someplace to rent close to campus. 

I had this crazy idea that I’d drive down there Tuesday, pick up a bed that a store owner was holding for Charlie, buy him some supplies and drive back to Kansas City Tuesday night. Nice and neat…Not to be. My plan went awry by a full 24 hours. There were trips to several stores — including big box, furniture and grocery — and a battle to get the bed set up.  

The overnight stay was sealed within an hour of our arrival in Tulsa. We got to the Affordable Mattress store — run by a guy named Malik — at 5:20, only to find that the store had closed at 5 and would not reopen until 10:30 a.m. Wednesday.

I decided to try to learn more about the neighborhood Charlie and Eric would be living in. So, when we were outside the house, I jumped on an opportunity to interview Charlie’s next-door-neighbor, Paul, who had gotten in his truck and was preparing to drive off. 

I already knew that the houses on either side of Charlie had been owner-occupied for many years. Those two houses are well maintained. Across the street, however, is a boarded-up house, and to one side of that house is another where a couple of young pit bulls stand guard in a fenced-in front yard. 

I’d seen the dogs on an earlier visit, when we were checking out the rental property. The pit bulls looked friendly enough — tails wagging, no snarling –but I always give pit bulls a wide berth, regardless of their apparent disposition.

I already knew, of course, that that house was one to keep an eye on, along with the one that is boarded up. One house I hadn’t noticed on the earlier trip was a partly burned-out house two doors from Charlie. Paul, who lives between Charlie and the house where the fire occurred, said the house had been torched — a reported arson — about six weeks ago. Some of the windows are boarded up, while others are broken out with jagged edges exposed.

Paul said he had called the Mayor’s Action Line more than once, but the city had not fully secured the property. (For good measure, I called the Mayor’s Action Line Thursday morning.) 

Paul also provided some other interesting information: A group of people who live on the other side of the street, next door to the boarded-up house, are panhandlers. “They’re the ones you see holding up the signs at intersections,” Paul said. “That’s their job….I told one of the guys I’d help him get a job where I work, but he said, ‘Oh, no,’ I make plenty of money.’ ”

At that point I realized that there were four problematic houses, not two, within a stretch of 75 yards of Charlie and Eric. The other houses on the block appeared fine, but four in a concentrated area is a bit worrisome. The picture that Paul was painting didn’t bother Charlie and Eric a bit, of course; they were too busy picturing themselves hosting parties and hoisting beers on the porch and in the living room.

Next morning, after a greasy breakfast at the Corner Cafe on historic Route 66, which runs right through Tulsa, we headed over to see Malik. Malik, a tall, smiling fellow who also is “Professor Malik,” a forestry teacher at TU, was holding, on deposit, an 84-inch mattress and box spring for Charlie, who is 6 feet, 7 inches tall. (A good editor told me early on not to make the reader do the math. That’s 79 inches. In other words, Charlie needs the 84-inch mattress — the longest standard size that is manufactured — to fit his frame comfortably on the bed.)

Malik sold us the mattress-box spring set for $100, plus tax. As a token of his appreciation, he presented Charlie with a small copper ashtray in the form of a woman’s shoe.  

The real bed trouble started when we got back to the house and found that the mattress and box spring were too narrow, by three inches, for the 39-inch standard-size Hollywood frame. Not to worry, I thought. We’ll just go to Home Depot or Lowe’s, have some slats cut to size and lay them horizontally along the bed frame at intervals of a foot or so.

Got that done, and it worked. But…another problem presented itself. The bed and box spring were too long for the frame, naturally, and when I would push on the foot of the bed, the head of the bed would pop up like a teeter-totter.

Solution: Get a piece of wood cut into smaller sections that could be nailed together and used as footings on either side of the unsupported end of the bed. Back to Lowe’s; got the wood; bought nails.

By this time, Charlie had grown quiet, and he was looking off into space as we plowed through our mission at Lowe’s. “Are you tired,” I asked.

“I’m thirsty, and I’m tired of all this driving around and getting different stuff,” he said, grimacing. “I just want to have it done and be at the house.”

“I understand, Charlie,” I commiserated. “I don’t like it, either.”

With the wood and nails in hand, we got back to the house about 6:15, and, clearly, it was time for me to leave. He gave me a big hug — his arms around my shoulders and mine around his waist — and said, “Thanks so much for all the help, Dad.”

I wished him luck and headed out.

About 45 minutes later, while I was stuck in traffic on Interstate 244, my cell phone rang. It was Charlie. He had nailed the boards together, but some had cracked…The nails were too big.

“I think it’ll be OK,” he said, reassuringly.

He was about to go, but his reportorial gene clicked in. “Oh,” he said, “there’s already been some action on the block…At the panhandlers’ house, a lady was down in the front yard, bleeding from her hand.” 

“What was it? I asked, “A stabbing?”

“Somebody said it was a suicide attempt,” he said. 

“Did the cops come?” I said.

“There were about seven cop cars,” he replied.

We signed off. About that time, the traffic broke, and I was winging my way back to Kansas City.

Charlie, meanwhile, was starting his new life in the 200 block of South College Avenue in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

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Club footed but dying to run

Posted in sports, Uncategorized, tagged , , on August 9, 2010|

In this summer of Royals Retrenchment and Waiting for Whitlock, here’s something to cheer about.

It’s not close by. But that doesn’t really matter. It’s a universal story that can be embraced by anybody anywhere.

The heroine is a three-year-old filly named Lisa’s Booby Trap (more about that in a minute), who has surmounted a club foot and blindness in one eye to become, in a matter of weeks, the most closely watched racehorse in America.

The hero is her owner and trainer, Tim Snyder, who bought the horse for $4,500 ($2,000 down, $2,500 if she won a race) after the breeder had given up on the horse.

To give you the gist — and the glory — of the situation, Lisa’s Booby Trap has won four straight races, with the most recent win coming Friday in a stakes race at prestigious Saratoga Race Course in upstate New York. She paid $5 to win on a $2 bet; the jockey was Kent Desormeaux. Earlier, she had won three races in a row at the relatively small Finger Lakes Racetrack in the same state.

The next step will be a much bigger test. She is scheduled to run at Saratoga on Saturday, Aug. 28, in a Grade III stakes race. Graded stakes are the highest levels of racing, with Grade I being the top, followed by grades two and three. But any graded race is a big deal.

New York racing fans were watching Lisa’s Booby Trap before her most recent win, but it was a New York Times story Friday morning (the day of the race) that catapulted her and her owner into celebrity status. Writer Bill Finley summed it up by saying, “Horse racing is the type of sport…where anything can happen, even a stakes victory at Saratoga by a horse that was a lost cause, with an owner and trainer who never had much more than $2,000 rolled up in his boot.”

Now for the backdrop. Snyder, who is in his 50s, has spent a good part of his life working with “claimers,” the lowest level of racing, where horses can be purchased at set prices before a given race. After the race, the new owner (or trainer) leads the horse away to his barn, while the previous owner gets the prize money, if the horse was fortunate enough to finish in the money.

Snyder’s life changed in 2003, when his wife, Lisa, died of ovarian cancer. Snyder, as Finley told it, went off to California, where he worked odd jobs for a few years and tried to regain his bearings. He returned to Finger Lakes to work for another trainer but set his sights on getting a horse of his own.

From a friend, he ended up buying an unnamed horse the friend had obtained from a breeder. Because of the club foot, the horse had an awkward gait. In addition to the blind eye, she had a shoulder problem. In an interesting juxtaposition, Snyder named her for his late wife and also for a chain of strip clubs in South Florida that he patronizes.

Stuck with the horse’s inherent defects, Snyder began experimenting with different shoes, and, lo and behold, he found a combination that worked. Just like that, Lisa’s Booby Trap began her Cinderella-like transformation.

“The big outfits, the big farms,” Snyder told Finley, “they take a horse like that and push her to the end of the line. If she didn’t have those problems, I’d never have gotten her.”

So, chalk one up for a little guy with a lot of perseverance and for a club footed filly who wanted to run and just needed the right shoes.

What a story it would be if Lisa’s booby Trap won on Aug. 28 and then went on to run in a Breeders Cup race, the world championships, at Churchill Downs in November. People from California to South Florida would be watching and rooting.

Lisa's Booby Trap and owner Tim Snyder (right) -- New York Racing Association photo

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Whitlock and The Star’s credibility

Posted in journalism, Uncategorized, tagged , , on August 5, 2010|

Some of you probably are tired of reading about the Jason Whitlock saga.

But it’s got a very important element that is worth discussing — the credibility of The Kansas City Star.

The Star’s stock in trade is its credibility. Readers rely on The Star — just as readers in other cities rely on their daily papers — to get at the truth, when the truth is obscured by lies, conflicting allegations, complicated facts and just plain clutter.

For example, The Star has been working mightily to comb through the chaff of the Karen Pletz situation at Kansas City University of Medicine and Health Sciences. Was it a case of an administrator run amok, or was it a case of a board of directors that was sound asleep? Or was it both? The Star has done an excellent job, overall, of trying to sort things out, and its stories have laid plenty of blame at the feet of both parties.

Only The Star has the resources to launch a thorough examination and be assured that most people will trust the result. No other news organization in Kansas City can come close. So, when The Star speaks on the Pletz issue, thousands of people — tens of thousands of people — listen closely.

Another example: The Star recently published a big, 40-year anniversary story on the slaying of political and civil rights leader Leon Jordan, suggesting that it might be a good idea to reopen the case. Less than two weeks later, lost evidence turned up, and police decided to reopen the case.  

Here’s another, different, example of The Star’s credibility: Why do you think Mark Funkhouser is mayor today?  Here’s why: KC Star editorial writer Yael Abouhalkah, who has “covered” City Hall for more than 20 years, got behind him early on and started pushing. Yael, in turn, convinced the editorial board to support Funkhouser, and The Star then endorsed Funkhouser, propelling him to victory.

Among the dozen candidates for mayor, Funkhouser did not stand out for his character, personality or ability to build a consensus. No, he was just another member of a weak field. But he had The Star behind him. That’s why he won; the voters trusted The Star. (Footnote: The Star, to its credit, saw the error of its ways a couple of years after Funkhouser was elected and admitted it made a mistake.)

So, The Star’s credibility is important, very important to this community. And what is it doing with this Whitlock fiasco? It is chipping away at its own credibility. For weeks, The Star has been publishing a note to readers saying Whitlock is “on vacation.” Come on, it’s a lie, and everybody knows it.

It’s something else. Maybe he’s been suspended; maybe it’s a contract dispute; maybe the editors are sick of dealing with him. It could be anything…other than a vacation. After an absence that now exceeds two months, he’s probably not coming back.   

So, The Star should stop lying. It could drop the “note to readers” and say nothing. It could change the note to say, “Jason Whitlock is on leave,” or “Jason Whitlock is off work.”

Sorry to say, this is not the first time that The Star has been less than forthcoming about Whitlock’s status. In October 1998, Whitlock was suspended for goading fans who were taunting him at a Chiefs-New England Patriots game in Foxboro, Mass. Against the press-box glass, he held up hand-scrawled signs that said, “It’s warm in here — good looking women too” and “Bledsoe gay? Pats suck.” (He was referring to Patriots’ quarterback Drew Bledsoe.)

That was on Sunday, Oct. 11. The next day, Whitlock was suspended, and the suspension turned out to be for two weeks. The Star didn’t inform the public, however, until 10 days after the suspension. On Oct. 22, then-sports editor Rick Vacek wrote a column explaining the suspension and referred to “offensive” signs that Whitlock had shown to Patriots fans. He didn’t say what the signs said.

On Nov. 1, Miriam Pepper, who was then readers representative (the position that Derek Donovan now holds), wrote a column saying that the tardy report and lack of details had been a disservice to readers. “The newspaper regularly has to ‘go with the news’ before all sides weigh in,” said Pepper, now a vice president and editorial page editor. “In this case, it could have been handled by reporting the incident immediately and explaining that management was investigating.”

That episode hurt The Star’s credibility, and that was before the bottom fell out for most metropolitan dailies. Now, here we are again with a situation that, while probably different at its core, is still a matter of public interest. Whitlock is not a journeyman reporter; he’s the highest profile columnist and personality at The Star. Readers want — and deserve — an explanation that is not bogus.

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A chance encounter

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , on August 3, 2010|

As many of you know, I’m a dedicated women’s college basketball fan.

So, I’ve got a related story for you.

I’d been looking for a used dishwasher recently to tide us over in our current house so we can transfer our good, LG dishwasher to the house into which we’re moving. Last Thursday night, I spotted on craigslist three dishwashers I was interested in, and I sent e-mails to the three sellers, asking if they still had the dishwashers.

I got two responses Friday morning, one from a guy named Aaron and the other from “Cindy Stein.” For 12 years, until the end of the 2009-2010 basketball season, one Cindy Stein was the women’s basketball coach at the University of Missouri. (A new coach, Robin Pingeton of Illinois State, was named in April.)

So, I’m looking at the name Cindy Stein and thinking, “Hmmmm, is it possible? Could it be…? I recalled having heard from a friend in Columbia that she might be moving to Kansas City. So, I thought, “Well, maybe.”

I wrote back and asked her to call me on my cell phone. She called while I was in the barber chair, so I didn’t pick up, but after I left the shop I retrieved a message from Cindy, who left a return number with the area code 573, which includes Columbia, Mo.

I called her back and said, “Is this the famous Cindy Stein?” She said, “Well, I don’t know about famous…” 

Within half an hour, my daughter (who had picked me up from the barber shop) and I were at the home she recently purchased in Leawood. She is renovating it and doing a lot of the work herself.

When I asked her if she had anything in the works insofar as employment was concerned, she said was thinking about starting a basketball program for youths — from beginners to elite — and was going to do some TV commentary for women’s games next season. 

When my daughter told her that she had just graduated from Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois, Cindy’s eyes lit up. She is familiar with Knox and Galesburg, she said, because she grew up in Peoria, which is about 35 miles from Galesburg.

She was extremely gracious and friendly. It was a memorable morning for me and my daughter…Oh, and I bought the dishwasher. Frigidaire. Price, $25.

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Whitlock….The End

Posted in journalism, Uncategorized, tagged , , on August 2, 2010|

As some of you may know, I have a friendly bet with fellow blogger Hearne Christopher of KCConfidential.com over whether Jason Whitlock will return to The Kansas City Star. The stakes are lunch at The Well in Waldo.

I am so convinced that my position is correct — that Whitlock is finished at The Star — that today I am presenting Whitlock’s advance “obit” accompanied by a timeline noting the highs and lows of his 16 years at The Star. 

With no further ado, then, join me in bidding a fond adieu to Jason. (Wherever you are, Jason, I hope you enjoy the tribute.)  

*** 

Jason Whitlock, who brought big-time, hammer-pounding sports commentary to The Kansas City Star, has left the paper after 16 years as a sports columnist.

The Star announced Whitlock’s departure on (day to be determined), following the widely read columnist’s two-month absence from the pages of The Star. During that period, The Star occasionally ran a note to readers, along with Whitlock’s mug shot, saying “Jason Whitlock is on vacation.”

During his absence, even members of the sports staff did not know what was going on or if he was coming back. Sports Editor Holly Lawton recently told a reader who called her to ask about Whitlock that he was taking back-to-back vacation months. For years, Whitlock has worked for The Star on a contract basis, and the terms of the contract have not been made public. Regular employees of The Star get a maximum of about 28 days paid time off and cannot carry over unused days from one year to the next.

An indication that Whitlock was either trying to spread his wings or was dissatisfied with his role as a sports columnist at The Star surfaced on April 27, when a political opinion column written by Whitlock turned up on the page opposite The Star’s editorial page. An editor’s note accompanying the column said that the Op-Ed column would appear weekly.

The column appeared for six consecutive weeks and then disappeared just as mysteriously as Whitlock himself.

For his part, Whitlock did nothing to shed light on the situation. Last Friday, he posted this message on his Twitter account: “KC folks, do not believe anything said about me by ANYONE, even if he/she claims to have spoken to me. They are lying and/or misrepresenting.”

Whitlock, 43, also writes a weekly column for FOXSports.com. That column continued during his absence from The Star. Previously, he wrote a weekly column for ESPN.com and had worked as a radio talk-show host on local sports radio stations.

For 13 years, from 1996 to 2009, Whitlock and fellow columnist Joe Posnanski provided a powerful and intriguing one-two punch on The Star’s sports pages. Whitlock generally took the role of heavy hitter, calling out players, coaches, owners and others for sharp criticism, while Posnanski offered nuanced opinions and compelling narratives and commentaries. A year ago, Posnanski left The Star to become a senior writer at Sports Illustrated.

Whitlock and Posnanski helped transform The Star’s sports section into one of the best in the nation. Four times since 2003, the section has won sports journalism’s highest honor, being ranked by the Associated Press in the top 10 for its daily, Sunday and special sports sections. Whitlock has won top 10 honors as a columnist three times since 2005, including last year.

King Carl and Dr. B.A. Homer 

Famously and fearlessly, Whitlock took on major sports figures, such as former Kansas City Chiefs’ president and general manager Carl Peterson, whom Whitlock dubbed “King Carl,” and current president and general manager Scott Pioli, whom Whitlock often referred to as Scott Ego-li.

He also introduced Star readers to a fanciful character called Dr. B.A. Homer. Described as “Kansas City’s leading sports therapist,” Dr. Homer would engage in imaginary dialogue with Whitlock, often trying to convince Whitlock that his position on an issue – whatever it might have been – was crazy.

In a September 2006 interview with a sports blog called The Big Lead, Whitlock was asked if he intended to remain a sports columnist.

“Yeah, I’m always going to keep a hand in the sports world,” Whitlock said. “Writing about sports is a great platform to write about the rest of life. Plus, the sports world and the entertainment world are where much of the bojangling is taking place. I haven’t left The Kansas City Star because I’m treated well there, enjoy the freedom, love the city, the Internet makes the world much smaller and, most important, I have a good boss.”

At the time, his supervisor was managing editor Mike Fannin, who oversaw sports and features. Two years ago, Fannin was named editor of The Star, and since then, Whitlock has worked for Lawton, who succeeded Fannin as sports editor.

Last Friday, to the surprise of many rank and file workers at The Star, Lawton submitted her resignation as sports editor, saying she intended to leave journalism. The notice of her resignation, placed on Star bulletin boards, reportedly said that she would remain sports editor until a successor was in place.

A source at The Star said Friday that he had spoken with Lawton and that she had told him her departure had nothing to do with Whitlock’s situation. “She said she wanted out from under the job,” the source said. “She wanted a life.”

The source also said that the Whitlock situation might have been in limbo for an extended period because of the terms of his contract, such as when it was due to expire.  

Whitlock, an Indianapolis native, is a 1990 graduate of Ball State University, where he started as an offensive tackle for two years. He came to The Star from the Ann Arbor News in Michigan. He previously worked at The Charlotte Observer in North Carolina and the Bloomington Herald-Times in Indiana.

*****

Jason Whitlock timeline at The Kansas City Star

1994 – Whitlock is hired as a sports columnist

October 1998 – Whitlock is suspended for heckling fans who taunted him in the press box at a Chiefs-New England Patriots game at Foxboro, Mass. Among other things, Whitlock displayed to fans a hand-written sign that said, “Bledsoe gay? Pats suck.” He was referring to New England quarterback Drew Bledsoe.

April 2007 – Perhaps Whitlock’s most provocative column, titled “Imus isn’t the real bad guy,” is published. In the column, Whitlock argued that African-Americans should examine hip-hop music’s culture of black-on-black disrespect rather than focus on shock jock Don Imus’ description of Rutgers women’s basketball players as “ho’s” (whores).

March 2010 — The Associated Press names Whitlock one of the top 10 sports columnists in the country for 2009. It is the third time since 2005 that he has been so honored. 

April 27, 2010 – The Star launches Whitlock’s “Independent Thoughts” column on the Op-Ed page. An editor’s note says the column will appear weekly.

May 27, 2010 – Whitlock’s last sports column, about a “culture of corruption” in college sports, is published.

June 2, 2010 – Whitlock’s sixth (and last) “Independent Thoughts” column is published. The headline is “Obama owes Bush an apology.”

Aug. x, 2010 – The Star announces Whitlock’s resignation.

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“Shocking discovery” leads to dull story

Posted in journalism, Uncategorized, tagged , on July 30, 2010|

The TV anchors love to set up the next story — the one coming after the impending round of commercials — with teasers like, “You won’t believe this next story…Don’t go anywhere!” or “Shocking discover in Kansas City…You’ll have to hear it to believe it.”

That’s usually the signal to flip channels because the station promoting the pyrotechnics is guilty, invariably, of hyperbole. After all, if it was such a big story, wouldn’t it have been the lead story at the top of the broadcast?

And yet, every once in a while stories come along that merit some hyperventilation and deserve to be written and reported in a you-gotta-be-kidding tone. Such was the story that led The Star on Thursday about the rediscovery of the shotgun that was used to kill political leader Leon Jordan 40 years ago.

The Star gave it an attention-grabbing headline — “The missing gun turns up — in use by police,” which captured the irony of the situation: The weapon had disappeared from the evidence room at police headquarters. But from that tantalizing headline, the story, while inherently interesting, went downhill because the reporter wrote it like he was reporting the discovery of a turd in a sand box.

It just goes to show you that even Pulitzer-Prize-winning reporters like Mike McGraw have their off days and need the guidance of watchful editors. Along with Mark Morris, federal courts reporter, McGraw is the best investigative reporter at The Star.

He wrote Thursday’s story because it was a follow-up to a “take-out” that he and reporter Glenn Rice did a couple of weeks ago on the 40th anniversary of Jordan’s slaying — one of Kansas City’s greatest murder mysteries.   

Being The Star’s primary investigative reporter, however, McGraw writes relatively few stories — devoting his time to the big throws. As a result, his style is not well suited to the big, breaking developments that are the bread and butter of most “daily” reporters, who write several times a week and are experienced in calibrating their stories to the appropriate level of excitement.

And, make no mistake, this was exciting news: Police lost the gun that was used to kill Jordan, perhaps selling it at auction in 1976, only to repurchase it the following year from a gun shop and put it to use in one of its patrol cars. Presumably, the Jordan murder weapon has been in one or another patrol car, moving about the streets of Kansas City, the last 30 years or so.

But consider how McGraw opened his story:

“In a reversal of an earlier decision, Kansas City police are reopening a 40-year-old investigation into the 1970 shotgun slaying of black political leader Leon Jordan.

“The about-face came after local civil rights leader Alvin Sykes met with Police Chief Jim Corwin, and comes on the heels of another major development in the cast. Police have rediscovered physical evidence in the case that they had earlier said was missing.”

I hate to say it but “blah, blah, blah.” Pro forma. No imagination, little thought.

It’s not until the third paragraph that McGraw mentions the discovery of the Remington 12-gauge shotgun that was used to kill Jordan outside his Green Duck tavern early on the steamy morning of July 15, 1970.

Unfortunately, the pace of the story does not pick up; it plods through its entire 34 column inches.   

Now, let’s analyze the key elements of the story.

Is it important that police have decided to reopen the investigation (which they had earlier indicated they were not interested in doing)? Of course. Is Sykes’ agitation important? Yes. But ask yourselves….What’s the most astonishing part of this story? Right…the shotgun being found in a police car! 

Without question, the lead of the story — the first sentence or two — should have turned on the gun. 

It could have gone something like this:

“The weapon used to kill political leader Leon Jordan has been found…not buried in the police evidence room but in a patrol car, where it circuitously ended up decades ago after police disposed of it.

“The astonishing development, along with the discovery of other missing evidence in the case, has prompted police to reopen the Jordan case, one of Kansas City’s most enduring murder mysteries.”    

To me, that strikes at the inherent drama of the case and immediately gets the reader focused on the seminal question: “How in the world did the gun end up being used as standard equipment in a police patrol car?”

The lead usually is the key to grabbing the readers’ attention. In this case, the subject matter is so interesting — and the layout (including a 16-1/2 inch photo of the gun) was so good — that  most readers probably stuck with McGraw, even through his lackluster account.

But with a better lead and a more dramatic pitch throughout the story, he could have maximized readership and had a story that merited a spot in his portfolio of “all-time-best stories.”

Some people might say, “Who are you, Mr. JimmyC,” to cast aspersions at Mike McGraw?” My answer is this: I was not nearly as good a reporter as McGraw. He’s one of the best in the country, and The Star is fortunate to have him. But on this day, with this story, he blew it. And, by now, he probably realizes it.

His line editor (his immediate supervisor) could have — should have — saved him. So could other editors who looked at the story before publication. But they didn’t.

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vanDrehl is back!

Posted in religion, Uncategorized, tagged , , , on July 28, 2010| 4 Comments »

It’s a happy day in JimmyC land because a missive has arrived from my oldest friend, Hubartos vanDrehl, the Prince of Paonia…Colorado, that is.

If you’ll recall, when last we heard from vanDrehl (see June 18 blog), he was inveighing against Buttcrack Nation and other discomfitting societal situations. I invited vanDrehl to write another blog entry soon. But I guess when you’re the mystic of the mountains, time is irrelevant. And, besides, in vanDrehl’s mysterious realm perhaps six weeks qualifies as soon.

At any rate, yesterday’s entry about last Saturday’s Paul McCartney concert sparked vanDrehl’s creative juices, and here are his words of…well, I would like to say “wisdom,” but I’ll let you be the judge.   

P.S. Before we launch, I must make a correction. In the June 18 blog, I offered an incorrect pronunciation of vanDrehl’s name. Like I say, he’s my oldest friend, and sometimes you forget small things like that. For the record, it’s pronounced van-drell, as in Archie Bell and the Drells. (I need to tighten up, don’t you know?)    

*****    

My Dear JimmyC,

Interesting. Interesting that you would wax nostalgic about a pale 70s version of an over-produced and over-hyped quartet of charming 60s mop tops that is still being shoved down the throats of people not yet born when the Bee’uls roamed the earth.

Also interesting is that I distinctly remember your dazed, confused and offended feelings about that disheveled time in the Sixties when a lot of us spoiled, pampered and indulged Boomers were feeling frisky.

I think the Seventies were your decade of choice, after having escaped the suffocating clutches of our hometown in order to breathe and grow. Being overly nostalgic about our Catholic-Boys’ education and paltry social life would be like laughing and telling funny stories about service in an ugly war. Being angry about our terrorized upbringing under the thumb of Holy Mother Church is like being angry at an ancient Nazi death-camp guard on trial and life support.

The 60s and 70s died with Lennon in 1980, when he took a bullet for fame. You remember him? He was the best and brightest Bee’ul, with tons more brains and talent than Cutie-Pie Paul. I believe it was Satchel Paige who said, “Don’t look back, something might be gaining on you.”

We were born in 1946, the first of the Boomers, and we’ve been making them pay attention to, and pay for, our sins ever since. Having turned this country into a spiritually, culturally, creatively, morally and financially bankrupt wasteland that produces nothing, stands for nothing and consumes everything with the help of 60 years of television and other types of useless information that oozes from pixel-ated surfaces, the Boomers should repair to the barn. Had I been your date the other night for the “Tour Down Memory Lane,” I would have stayed in the bathroom like your long-ago candidate for date rape. You owe her a civil apology and a night on the town if you can find your walker.

Like the old song says, these are the good old days. And like the yogis say, be here now. Yes, these are the good old days, JimmyC. Have a good one on me: The tab’s actually being picked up by the next generation(s). Boomers ride free.

I Remain,

A Detached Observer Somewhere On the Western Slope of Colorado,

Hubartos vanDrehl

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Of Paul McCartney, time and jumbled thoughts

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on July 27, 2010| 5 Comments »

I have felt a vague sense of loss and unease the last few days, since going to the Paul McCartney concert Saturday night.

The concert — even the anticipation of it — prompted a wave a of nostalgia and introspection. Anchored at the root of those feelings were the memories from the last McCartney concert I attended, and the realization that a vast expanse of time (gone forever) and life changes (good and bad), had intervened between the two McCartney shows I have been privileged to see.

The first was in May 1976, when I was a young reporter for The Star, covering the Jackson County Courthouse. On the personal front, I was flailing romantically and still trying to find a sense of belonging in Kansas City.

On the day of the concert, as I recall, then-county assessor Wayne Tenenbaum offered to sell me his two tickets at face value because he couldn’t go. I needed a date, and another administrator, Bob Bosch, fixed me up with the sister of a friend. Bam, bam. Just like that, on a warm spring night, I was headed to Kemper Arena to see Paul and Linda McCartney and Wings. It was the Wings Over America Tour, which followed closely on the heels of the release of Wings’ Venus and Mars album.  

My date and I did some pre-concert drinking (and probably a little smoking). From the first song — I don’t remember what it was — I could tell it was going to be a memorable show. Paul was totally focused. He didn’t indulge in much chit-chat. Just song after killer song. His voice — and the accompanying music — was clear, strong and dazzling. I remember, in particular, the soaring strains of “Maybe I’m Amazed” — the lilting “ooooooww, wooo-oo-ooo-ooo, ahahh.” I was dazed, amazed and transfixed.    

Not long into the concert, my date was taken ill, undoubtedly from the pre-party indulgence. I was torn as to what to do. I felt an obligation to comfort and attend to her, but, at the same time, I didn’t want to miss this concert. She hunkered in the restroom. I felt bad for her and checked on her a while later, but she sent me back into the arena, telling me to enjoy the show. Her selflessness was remarkable. And, regrettably, she missed the concert of a lifetime. It was our only date. 

Paul and Linda, 1976

Analyzing that concert in retrospect, I think that Linda McCartney played a large role in its magic. Even though she did mostly background vocals and percussion, she was the glue, and she was a picture of grace, femininity and professionalism. And everyone realized that she and Paul were a rock solid team, the foundation on which everything was built.    

Of course, it was a lot different on Saturday night. Paul is 68, not 34. His star is not ascending; it is holding, at best. And Linda is dead and gone. The four other band members – great musicians, for sure — were all men. To me, Linda’s absence was conspicuous.

Even before the concert started, I realized in my heart that it wouldn’t, couldn’t, measure up to the experience of 1976. Nevertheless, Paul was amazing. He still hits most of the notes, perhaps not with quite as much power, but he gets there. And he played many of the same songs he performed in 1976, such as “Jet,” “Let Me Roll It” and “Letting Go.” They sounded good. Very good. I stood and moved with the music, along with the rest of the huge crowd.

Instead of grabbing the crowd by the throat, Paul stroked and patted, for the most part. As you would expect from a retrospective, he did more talking between songs and exhibited more gestures of gratitude, such as raising the guitar above his head several times and forming a heart with his hands above his head at other times.

There was at least one song, however, when I felt the old intensity. It was “Band on the Run,” the great song about the “county judge who held a grudge.”  It’s got that slow, lazy start that segues, seamlessly, into a hard-driving rhythm and culminates with a full-throated guitar chord that socks you in the gut. If you don’t feel it in your gut, your hard wiring is fatally flawed.     

Of course, it wasn’t just Paul who had changed, but me, too. I am 64, not 30. And I didn’t arrive at the concert “high and primed” as I did 34 years ago. I was with my wife and 22-year-old daughter, so there was no pre-concert overindulgence, just a couple of drinks at Raglan Road.

And there was a side story. Through a bit of luck, while at the bar, my daughter got a brief audience with the g.m. for a job as a hostess. The g.m. told her he’d call her for an interview. Today, she goes in for that interview….Let youth be served. It’s her generation that is ascending now.

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The sun is setting on Jason Whitlock’s run at The Kansas City Star

Posted in journalism, sports, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 22, 2010| 3 Comments »

With the Chiefs getting set to open summer camp next week in St. Joseph, this is a good time to address a subject I’ve been thinking about lately.

Jason Whitlock.

More specifically, Jason Whitlock and his future at The Kansas City Star, where he’s been a fixture for 16 years.

In my opinion, Jason is effectively finished at The Star. I’m not just basing that on the fact that he hasn’t had a column in the paper – either sports or one of his ridiculous “independent thoughts” op-ed pieces — since June 2. No, the tell-tale sign that he’s effectively finished is that there have been very few inquiries and very little speculation, anywhere, regarding his absence from print.

That tells me that he has essentially become irrelevant, as far as readers of The Star are concerned. At this point, The Star might as well cut his big, fat salary loose and spend the money on some more reporters or copy editors.

In recent weeks, The Star has been running a box, usually on Page 2 of the Sunday sports section, saying that Whitlock is on vacation. A few weeks ago, someone at The Star told me that Whitlock had gone on vacation and then had a death in the family.

But still…seven weeks? Nobody at The Star gets that much time off; I’m pretty sure five weeks is the maximum.

He’s been writing columns for Foxsports.com, and he’s been Tweeting, but, like many a suspect on A&E’s “The First 48,” he’s “nowhere to be found” in the pages of The Star. I haven’t put in an official inquiry to anyone at The Star because if a separation is looming, I won’t get a straight answer. Besides, it’s not particularly material if he does resurface in print because, as I said at the outset, my point is that he’s effectively finished at the paper.

Here are three reasons I say that:

:: During the go-go years, when Whitlock and Joe Posnanski were a solid one-two punch, just about everyone who followed sports couldn’t wait to read what Whitlock and Poz had to say. They had a symbiotic journalistic relationship that worked to the benefit of the readers. With Whitlock often wielding the hammer and Posnanski bringing the lyrical touch, the duo gave the readers a reason to open their papers early. Then, a year ago, Posnanski left The Star to become a senior writer at Sports Illustrated, and the magic quickly disappeared. It was like any great team – Burns and Allen, Martin and Lewis – they were just a lot better together than as solo acts.

:: We came through the entire conference realignment story, which went on for many weeks, without an utterance, as far as I can tell, from Whitlock. It has been, by far, the biggest story in college sports this year, and The Star’s supposed No. 1 columnist never wrote about it. The people who carried the ball for The Star on that story – and ever so capably – were reporters Blair Kerkhoff and Mike DeArmond and columnist Sam Mellinger. Mellinger is Posnanski’s successor. A baseball expert, he has made great strides in his relatively short tenure. He’s like Posnanski in that he’s prolific, but he’s different in that he relies less on turning a phrase and more on insight and keen observation.

:: Finally, the Chiefs are in a sorry state, and, while they still are very popular, they are not nearly as relevant as they used to be under “King Carl,” as Whitlock memorably referred to former Chiefs president Carl Peterson. They have an earnest but unimaginative owner in Clark Hunt; they have a hot-headed, yet dull-as-dirt coach in Todd Haley; they have an egocentric president, Scott Pioli, who hides in his office; and they have a sub-par group of players. So, really, what does it matter what Whitlock might write about this year’s Chiefs?   

Let’s face it…Whitlock’s day in the sun as a columnist for The Star has passed. I wish him luck in the future, but it’s time for him and us to move on.

The king is dead! Long live the king! (Mellinger, that is.)

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