Wow! Hearing from me two weeks in a row. It’s like a Christmas miracle.
But I wanted to discuss a few topics and some phone calls that had me a bit defensive lately. Not nice phone calls. But not totally unpleasant phone calls, either.
In fact, I’ve been kicking around this business long enough to have had many, many such phone calls. Complaints—constructive criticism may be a better phrase—come with the territory. I’m used to it. Fire away.
I long ago realized—after my Superman phase, circa 1980—that I, too, am a mere mortal, prone to foible and failure. I like to tell critics that if I was a perfect, no, even a good journalist, I wouldn’t be here, now would I? Now that’s funny. (I also like to tell folks that since joining the Chronicle Progress—three years in February—I’ve cut fake news by 25 percent… ahhh, hilarity.)
Actually, just so you hear it directly from me, I’d rather be nowhere else than right here with you. That’s the truth.
That’s because we’re going to go through some things…together.
It was inevitable that some of you would finally get to know me, and, thankfully, feel comfortable enough to let me know when you think I failed to meet expectations with one story or another. I told you last week, what I do can get pretty messy sometimes. Throw in my own writing quirks, personality defects, inability to speak coherently on occasion, common laziness, bad eye sight, a spot of deafness and imperfect attention to detail, and things can quickly become iffy, at best. The Princess of Sherwood Shores has been made aware.
My intention here is not really to show you how the sausage is made. And I am not going to let you know about every interaction I have with people you may know who find some fault with my work. But, since I’ve spoken so little to you from this page, I figured it might be illuminating, a bit illustrative, particularly given the giant editorial in last week’s newspaper.
The phone call I wish to tell you about first involves a couple of items right on this very page right now. It appears the Topaz Museum in Delta has found itself ensnared in an imbroglio of sorts involving the Wakasa Memorial, uncovered after almost 80 years and secreted away to an undisclosed location (probably the museum). I’m not going to recount the whole story here (see the Sept. 29 issue), but let’s just say the museum, it’s board of directors and Jane Beckwith, specifically, caught some flack from representatives of the Japanese-American community. We wrote a story about it after Ms. Beckwith and the Topaz board published an explanation, mea culpa of sorts—on Facebook.
Ms. Beckwith, whom I personally hold in high regard, phoned me not long after and asked why we would publish that story without talking to her first. (Before I forget, there was an error in our coverage—the Wakasa Memorial was removed with a forklift and chain and not a backhoe as reported. I blame Sam.) Well, I attempted to politely explain that the museum’s statement online was really all the comment we needed from them for our story. I assured dear Ms. Beckwith that had we had any questions, we would have certainly called. We didn’t. We don’t.
Of course, you should be aware, it did not escape my attention at all that in July, when this buried historic artifact was being removed from the ground at the Topaz camp site, this newspaper was not invited to cover it. Nope. We knew nothing about it. Not a peep from anyone. That is until some angry members of the Japanese-American community started raising a fuss weeks later.
Frankly, it hurt my heart that I wasn’t informed— not because the museum owes me anything, but because it certainly owes you that story.
We should have been told by the museum and we should have written a timely article about it in July, or sooner. It would have been a nice story to tell, for one. It would have been good public relations for the museum, which I personally adore, for two. It would have been wonderfully captivating in a way that unique stories are able to captivate. But that opportunity was foreclosed upon for reasons that mystify me. And instead, we get controversy and vitriol and Facebook mea culpas. Ugh.
But you know what, this too shall pass.
Ms. Beckwith is human just like me and just like you. Maybe a mistake was made. Maybe my feelings got a little touched. I’ll get over it. Truth is, when it comes right down to the nitty gritty, nothing changes the fact that Ms. Beckwith has done a fantastic job with the Topaz Museum. I truly believe and have even told her to her face that it is THE crowning jewel in our community. It’s because of her blood, sweat and tears, and years of all three, that that is true.
I see no reason to make a mountain out of a memorial.
Still, I’m not going to tell her about this editorial. It’ll be our little surprise. Maybe she’ll call. I won’t hold my breath.
Now, let’s move east, because we simply can not leave Fillmore out of this discussion—the eastwest thing in this county, by the way, is a bit absurd to me, just so you know.
Anyway, I received a call recently from one of my favorite public servants, Dennis Alldredge, a Fillmore City councilman. He was a bit concerned with how he was portrayed in last week’s story about the affordable housing development and the developers subsequently parting ways with the city.
I was a bit taken aback not only because I have a lot of respect for Mr. Allredge, but also because I know I cut that story at the last minute before we went to press—my experience has been that last-minute editing sometimes invites last-minute mistakes. I was worried. Maybe I screwed something up. I ran to the office, grabbed the paper and read the story again, ready to call the councilman and apologize for any errors.
The story was fine.
It actually captured what I intended to communicate. And I didn’t think Mr. Alldredge was portrayed poorly at all. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t have a legitimate gripe. He actually sort of does. I left out a lot of the nuance from the public hearing I reported about. The mayor and council members did offer lots of comment during the discussion, more than they were required to, in fact. And I didn’t use most of it because if you really cared, you would have gone to the public hearing and heard it for yourself. Also, I didn’t want to belabor the sore points any more than necessary to communicate to you the gist of what happened.
As with all stories, there’s more to it than I have space to share. And since we’re on the subject, something dawned on me many weeks ago that might be appropriate to address here: I have failed to give some of our elected leaders the credit they deserve. It’s hard to give credit in a news story. It would certainly be an odd place to praise people. And you know how I feel about sharing my opinion since I spend so much time covering the news.
But this space is perfect.
So let me set the record straight: Millard County has some excellent elected leaders, Mr. Alldredge being one of them.
I’m not kidding. I’m not trying to suck up, either. But it’s true. The more I get to know our public servants, see them wrestle with the challenges of their positions, the thanklessness they sometimes endure from the public (and me) and the weight of their roles in our lives, the more I find these people, your neighbors and mine, are a huge blessing.
Like journalism, governing is messy. It’s that way by design. It’s hard to appreciate that from the audience. But it’s true. And collectively, we have massive challenges ahead of us all that require our leaders to be more like super heroes these days.
One of the biggest right now is the area’s severe housing shortage (See page 1). It’s not just that home prices are out of whack (they clearly are), but it’s that we have all this big business development set to commence any day now and nowhere for any new residents to live. Growth is coming at us like a runaway freight train, with housing potentially the key stumbling block in its way.
Mr. Alldredge apologized at the public hearing the other day. He said he would take some of the blame for the city looking seriously at the unpopular prospect of selling city land cheaply in order to spur affordable housing development. And maybe I didn’t do the best job of framing that discussion for you. But he has nothing to apologize for, in my opinion. His job is to find solutions to problems in his community and bring those to citizens’ attention—the good ideas, the bad ideas, the popular and unpopular ideas, any idea at all. That’s his job; it’s why he’s elected.
It’s OUR job as voters and citizens to sort through these ideas, give feedback, help defeat the bad ones and work to turn the good ones into reality. No blaming, no name-calling, no pointless moralizing, or conspiracy theorizing, and no apologies necessary—just working together for the betterment of our collective future. It’s simple.
I feel bad that Mr. Alldredge thinks he was portrayed in a poor light. Fact is, he’s doing a fine job for the citizens of Fillmore, no question in my mind about it. And he and our other public servants are doing their jobs under tough conditions and in an environment that is increasingly inhabited by rumors and innuendo, which is why I write about this stuff for you, to clarify it all the best I can. And if you get confused, I’m a phone call away.
So, next time you cross paths with Ms. Beckwith and Mr. Alldredge, give a wink and a nod to the good work they do, how much they enrich our communities by their presence here. And remember, none of us are getting through this life without a healthy collection of bumps and bruises—the ones that make headlines and the ones that don’t, mine, yours and theirs.
