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They lie all the time.  It’s their job.

The speaker was a TV news type for whom I have great respect, a “house cat” who makes the gears turn in a newsroom while we “alley cats” — eg. reporters and photographers — gather the material used to fill newscasts.

The subject was a fib — a series of them, actually — told by a publicist for a politician.  The lie was substantial and provable.  The publicist was a youngster whom I’d found to be pretty impressive under difficult circumstances, until this incident.  Called on it, she quickly apologized and repented.

I had found the lie to be outrageous.  The speaker found me to be naïve.  They lie.  It’s part of their job, she said, referring to both politicians and their PR flacks.

It’s a sad hypothesis.  Perhaps my world, populated as it is with unicorns and rainbows, overlooks the cold realities of politics and communications.

First, “lies” are clearly part of the currency of politics, an accusation that’s thrown around with casual frequency.  Because politicians have so cheapened the word, listeners aren’t outraged by “lies” much — especially because they know there’s a good chance that the accuser is also lying about the alleged lie.

But that stuff is usually confined to campaigns.  Once they actually take office, the politician and his staff usually assume a more professional posture.  This includes being reasonably straight with the news media.  If they want to dodge a direct question, they’ll avoid it or talk around it.  They may even misdirect you, if you’re pursuing a story they don’t like.  But in my experience, political office-holders and their publicists are very careful about crossing the line into bald-faced lying.  If they lie, you usually have to work pretty hard to expose it.

Part of the reason for that:  They want reporters and other politicians to be truthful with them.  They know they can’t expect truthfulness if they lie.

This leads to another troubling hypothesis:  Reporters lie all the time.  It’s part of their job.

I fear that a lot of people believe this.  They hear about the occasional Stephen Glass or Dan Rather incident, and they apply the knowledge to our profession as a whole.  Or they hear the word “lie” bandied about in politics, and automatically apply it to the news media.  Likewise, the viewpoints expressed in newspaper editorial pages or Fox News or MSNBC confuse people and contribute to this cynicism.

There can be gamesmanship in reporting.  If a reporter is trying to uncover certain concealed information, he cannot always be completely forthcoming in his effort to get it.  We can’t reveal everything we know while making inroads to get the information.  Nor can we reveal every question we intend to ask in advance.

We may even fudge the subject matter, but honorably and truthfully so.  For example, we may request an interview with a politician about his “campaign,” when we really want to ask about the crooks backing his campaign.

The use of hidden cameras is deceptive by definition (and much criticized, and ought to be used only when it’s the only way to expose wrongdoing).  Stories that use them only contribute to our reputations as a profession that is slippery and evasive.

So in pursuit of the truth, reporters may withhold information as part of the newsgathering process.  If questioned by somebody trying to conceal the truth, the reporter may resort to the same type of evasion used by publicists trying to steer the questioner away.

Gamesmanship is part of the job.  But flat-out lying is out-of-bounds.  It’s dishonorable and it’s unprofessional– whether the liar is a reporter, a newsmaker, or a publicist.

So no, they don’t lie all the time.  It’s not part of their job.

And in my next post, I would like to introduce you to Clyde, my personal unicorn.

It’s no secret that the visual demands of TV news are both a blessing and a curse.  The blessings are what keep us in business:   We can show you motion pictures, unlike newspapers and radio.  Plus, there’s that whole “personality” thing embodied by the likes of Monica Pearson, whose retirement announcement was heartily welcomed by newsrooms across Atlanta.

The curse is this:  We sometimes spend inordinate amounts of time developing visual gimmicks to tell stories.  Reporters and photographers frequently have to make their own graphics nowadays from gnarly cookie-cutter templates.  We’re told to perform clever, story-advancing standups — which frequently merely result in reporters walking and gesturing and whatnot.

The octagon

I killed most of Friday tying together loose ends from a two-week period spent covering a murder trial, and Newt Gingrich campaigning in Georgia.   And I spent an inordinate amount of time on a bit of performance art that may or may not have given our viewers valuable information about how Georgia’s Republican convention delegates will be allocated following the March 6 primary.

Ben Mayer, our Manager of Content wünderkind, walked in with the research in hand.   He’d figured out the complex formula that would divide the state’s 76 convention delegates, based on votes statewide and within Congressional districts.

Do something interesting with it, I was told during the morning editorial meeting.  Using conventional graphics, it was strongly suggested, would be too easy.

Use marbles!  suggested Julie Wolfe helpfully.  Somebody else suggested using old-school jacks as props.  Somebody suggested baseball cards.

Due to the deleterious effects of a concert I’d attended the previous evening, I wasn’t thinking too clearly.  I was sold on using marbles, but the idea of watching them rolling around uncontrollably as props gave me pause.

Then Dan Reilly, the photog assigned to shoot this looming disaster, suggested using poker chips.  The fog began to clear as I envisioned poker chips and a poker table.  I banged out a short script based on Mayer’s research.

A small circle of Atlanta media folk and other miscreants will recognize the poker table that I schlepped from my house to the studio.

The poker table was necessary because its edge has eight chip-holding pockets.   Since the piece would explain the allocation of delgates-as-poker chips, the schtick would require the chips to have a place to go.

The woman who’d gotten me into these straits, Julie Wolfe, helpfully noted that WXIA promotions guy and artist Bryan Hendrix had previously created caricatures of the four GOP candidates.  While I went home to fetch the table and some poker chips, Reilly assembled the art.

I’m not completely convinced the piece was illuminating.  But it was different.  One particular line required more than a dozen takes, due to my inability to get the poker chips to land in exactly the right spot.  Maximizing my productivity, I edited a quick Suspicious Package segment (below) based on this exercise in near-futility.

The upshot was that I’d spent almost zero time on reportage this particular day, while spending lots of time on television production.  The two tasks are mutually exclusive during the creation of a story, but seem to magically integrate by the time it gets on TV.

At the end of the piece, I crudely threw a handful of poker chips on the table, where the four caricatures stood.  We’d had trouble keeping the caricatures upright during the shoot.  Reilly and I reckoned that the tossed poker chips would knock over the artwork like bowling pins.

To our amazement, the artwork stayed upright.  On TV, it looked like we’d planned it that way.

If only we were that good.

Ford Farm, Lakeland GA

This week, I got a 500 word letter from a man who was unhappy about a story I had produced.

I was delighted.

I take no joy in ticking off viewers.  But I do admire a guy who is thoughtful and passionate and honorable enough to actually analyze my story and critique it thoughtfully.  And such complaints pop up occasionally.  It’s the nature of the business.

In the last year, I’ve had people gripe to my superiors and coworkers about stories.  But  for some reason, they’re disinclined to actually contact me.  I find that puzzling.  As long as they’re rational and open-minded, I’m game to discuss pretty much anything.

Just for the record:  If you don’t like my story, please contact me.  My email is easy to find on 11alive.com.

The story was a one-off piece that reported a gift accepted by Secretary of State Brian Kemp, using it as an example of Georgia pols accepting (perfectly legal) gifts from lobbyists.  The gift was a visit to a south Georgia hunting lodge called Ford Farm, a $600 value, according to the manager of the lodge.  The story led into a poll  commissioned by WXIA which showed that Georgians overwhelmingly favor legislation capping the value of such gifts at $100.

Kemp agreed to an interview, wherein he said he accepted a “celebrity” invitation to the hunt, but didn’t know who had paid for the visit.  However, he said he specifically asked if lobbyists were picking up the tab.  He said he was assured that wasn’t the case.  Kemp accepted, confident that there would be no embarrassing disclosure.  Three lobbyists nonetheless disclosed it, as required by law.

The writer who contacted me was a Kemp confidant.  It doesn’t matter, though.  If the story was bullshit, the background of the complainant is irrelevant.

He wrote, in part:

Georgia Secretary of State Brian Kemp

Your story … was a ridiculous cheap shot on a good public official that also was factually misleading and inaccurate.  

 Yes, several legislators attended this quail hunt and it is reasonable to assume their expenses were covered by lobbyists. 

However, Secretary Kemp was invited by the charity as a special guest to help the charity raise money.  He paid his own travel expenses and used his own equipment.  He was specifically told upfront that no lobbyist was paying for his participation or for any of his expenses.  

 Public officials volunteering their time and paying their own way to help charities is a good and noble thing.  We should be encouraging it!  Instead you misrepresent what he did and use it as an example of legal corruption?!  

 Yes, lobbyist spending in GA is a legitimate issue.  Yes, there are many, many examples of gross abuse of the system.  And for some unknown reason you chose to factually misrepresent a public official helping out a charity to make your point?!

 You are not some amateur jerk on a blog.  You’re a highly respected professional in your field.  You have and can do better than this.  This type of slimy journalism is beneath you and raises questions of your personal integrity and credibility. 

 You owe Secretary Kemp a correction on this story.

I wrote back, in part:

Although I reported that Kemp felt he was misled about the likelihood of lobbyist disclosure, I’m going to change the story to clarify what Kemp said about his understanding in advance of the trip.  You’re right — it could be clearer than I made it.

I don’t agree with your characterization that I “distorted the facts.”  I disclosed that Kemp hadn’t expected the trip to be part of a lobbyist disclosure.  However, I agree that the language in the piece could have been stronger.

(W)e always strive to be fair.  I thought Kemp got a fair shake in this piece, but you’ve made some valid points.

I added three lines to the online version of the story — the one that really matters, since it lives forever on the web — which strengthened the language in Kemp’s defense.

And I was delighted to do it.  The saga wasn’t a particularly important story of excessive lobbyist largesse, but rather a topical example of what critics say is an ongoing problem.  Kemp’s defense, though arguably flawed, was plausible and deserved a fuller explanation than I’d allowed.

Got a problem with a story you see on TV or read on the web?  Then do what this guy did:  Contact the writer.  If you don’t get a satisfactory response, write his boss.

And throw in a little flattery as part of your critique — even if you don’t mean it.

TV news folk are well-equipped to shoot images of events happening right in front of them.  We can produce pictures of fires or images of people talking with near perfection.

But put us in a situation that requires us to make interesting the routine settings of real life, and our equipment sometimes isn’t sufficient.

Real life tends to be much more predictable and stagnant.  People sit in their dens and read books or watch TV.  People sit in their cubicles and type.  People sit around an awful lot.  Real life is frequently all-but motionless.

Which is why the guy in this photo brings joy to my heart.  And the disembodied hand of the unseen person pulling the wagon.

I’ve never used a wagon to give motion to a TV camera.  I honestly doubt I could ever persuade a TV news photographer to sit in a wagon and allow me to pull him in it.

But we do improvise.  Put me in a room full of stockbrokers — who generally sit in chairs and stare at computer monitors — and I will almost always look for an office chair equipped with wheels.  “Sit!” I’ll gently insist to a photographer.   They’ll sit.  I’ll push.    The photog trains his camera on the succession of cubicles, while zipping past in his reporter-powered chair.

I’ve also been known  to use a hand truck for the same purpose.    This is a bit scarier because the photog’s upright position creates a higher center of gravity, resulting in a more unstable balancing act.  If you can sweet-talk a photog onto a handtruck, I recommend pulling the cargo rather than pushing.  Always use both hands.

The most commonplace poor-man’s jib is the automobile.  Photogs mostly don’t like to shoot rolling shots through the passenger window, because they have less control over the composition of their shots.  They’d prefer to stand or squat in the back of a pickup truck, which gives them the flexibility of composing shots from a 360 degree perspective.

Unfortunately, all of this requires teamwork in the field.  One-man-bands, or photogs working solo, would have to recruit an intern or a stranger for assistance.  The explanation itself would be enough to spook most non-TV folk.

The poorest of the poor-man’s jib is the walk shot.  An item is fixed in a room; the photog stands back from some distance, then walks forward toward the item.

The problem with this pertains to the makeup of the human body.  Because God gave us feet and legs instead of wheels and axles, the walk shot tends to have an unavoidably clunky up-and-down quality that coincides with each footstep.  It’s mostly to be avoided.

Especially when there’s an office chair in the room.

The photo comes from Amanda Emily’s Facebook page.  She ID’s the photog as George Potter of KOGO-TV (now KGTV) shooting Harry Truman’s two mile morning walk in San Diego in 1962.  She also compiles and blogs about vintage newsgathering images, on the blogroll to the right under “Feeding the News Beast.”  Click here.  It’s worth visiting.

And of course, Lenslinger beat me to the punch writing about this photo, plus he has details on Potter.  Visit his site here.

When we speak, most of us gesture.  We can’t help it.  It’s natural.  Especially when we’re being emphatic, the hands and arms tend to move in conjunction with the words.  The best of us do so with the style of a symphony conductor, with words and movements that fully communicate.

Even on the phone, gesturing comes naturally (left).  Ben took this photo in our newsroom while observing me in the throes of a heated phone chat with a brain-dead public information officer person.

Gesturing on TV is different.  If the material is unscripted, then gestures naturally accompany the words.  When reading a script or a teleprompter, then gesturing can be affected and unnatural.

About twenty years ago, I began to take note of some very earnest gesturing by ‘prompter-reading news anchors.  (Perhaps they’d done it before, but that’s when I noticed.)  Even when their image appeared on TV only from the neck up, the gestures would fly off camera:  Arms waving, hands chopping, fingers pointing.

Though the arms typically didn’t appear on camera, they let fly anyway.  One suspects that talent coaches advised them to gesture because it added energy to their from-the-neck-up presence.

At WXIA, reporters in-studio tend to be shown on-camera from the waist up.  The wider shot is a blessing and a curse.  It’s a blessing in that it reduces the need for makeup; it’s a curse because body language becomes an essential part of communication.  Typically, we read from ‘prompters in the studio.  This means that the body language becomes part of a script.

I have yet to master the art of scripting body language.

The piece below classically exposes this shortcoming.  I dashed out this piece within a few minutes on a Thursday afternoon, loaded it into a ‘prompter page, then went into the studio moments later to perform it.  Though I was familiar with the material, I’d failed to read it out loud prior to reading it on camera.

After the recording began, I read the first line and realized I hadn’t gestured.  As I started reading the second line, I threw out a gratuitous arm-wave at the start, emphasizing “the picks” instead of “the news professionals,” as I should have done.

Then came a list of stories, each with a hand gesture.  With some prior thought, I might have flailed less and done the classic two-handed finger-count, with the forefinger of the left hand touching successive extended fingers on the right.

About 35 seconds into the piece, my gestures began to get into sync with my copy.  “Act naturally,” as Buck Owens sang in the early 1960s.  It’s not as easy as it looks.