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Unformatted text preview: INSTITUTIONS OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY THE PRESS Geneva Overholser Kathleen Halljamieson EDITORS OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS Oxford University Press, Inc., publishes works that further Oxford University's objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education. Oxford NewYork Auckland CapeTowu Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam Copyright © 2005 by Oxford University Press, Inc. Published by Oxford University Press, Inc. 198 Madison Avenue, NewYork, NewYork, 10016 http:/ / www. oup.com/ us Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press d. No part of this publication may be reproduced, All rights reserve or by any means, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Oxford University Press. Library of Congress Cataloging-in—Publication Data The press / Geneva Overholser, Kathleen Hall Jamieson, editors. p. cm.— (Institutions of American democracy series) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN—13: 978—0—19—517283-6 (alk. paper) ISBN-10'. 0—19—517283—3 (alk. paper) 1.Press and politics—United States. 2. Democracy—United States. 3. Freedom of the press—United States. 4. Government and the press—United States. I. Overholser, Geneva. ILJamieson, Kathleen Hall. III. Series. PN4888.P6P64 2005 071’.3—dc22 2004029861 Book design by joan Greenfield Copyedited by Melissa A. Dobson Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper rv'vv v v-.,_ a. W‘- 1;,"‘\, ; X'flhkhx] . , \ .\1 HA . a“. I’g‘v'r 2 AMERICAN JOURNALISM IN HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE s? )3} xix ii i} z; 4 {3,1ng Michael Schudson and Susan E. Tg'fift Iongings, to be the storytellers of the world, the bards and troubadours of everyday life for everyday people. They lay this claim to universal relevance atop a belief that a thirst for news is all but innate to human nature. People throughout history have demonstrated a curiosity about their world. They are curious about novel things as well as perennial concerns, especially things that have come to be called sensational—blood, gore, violence, sex, betrayal, and per— f1dy, the moral frailty and dissipation of the rich and powerful, the stuff of Greek tragedy and of Italian opera.1 Even if a thirst for news were somehow wired into the human psyche, how— ever, almost all questions about the news media concern differences among competing styles and principles of j ournalism, alternative institutional structures of news organizations, or different systems of political control of news.Why do states censor news in some countries more than in others? Why do journalists write literary essays in some journalistic traditions and fact—centered reports in others? Why are sensational stories on the front page in some newspapers and not in others, even in the same city? Why are some countries dominated by commercial TV and others by public television? What difference, if any, does it make? Why is one story more interesting than another? Why is a sports reporter free to favor the home team and the political reporter not equally free to cheer for the favorite son? What is better for our civic life, news that gives politicians more room to state their own views without interruption or tightly edited news, a succession of short sound bites where the journalists identify and highlight the politician’s key points? None of these questions can be answered by an appeal to universal human nature. Most of them can be informed by a historical understanding of the devel— opment of news institutions; in fact, some of them cannot be understood at all JOURNALISTS HAVE OFTEN CLAIMED TO SERVE TIMELESS I7 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective without placing journalism in historical perspective. In the past two centuries, news has become a professionally created and commercially distributed product in most parts of the world. It is important to know how that happened, how the development of news has varied across national cultures and disparate political systems, and how the different forms this development has taken have had vary— ing outcomes. Exactly what is commercialization and what are its consequences? The profit motive, like, say, sexual desire, can have terrible consequences, but it is one of the forces in life powerful enough to push people ahead in the face of risk, tyranny, and physical and moral hazardWhat have been its costs and bene— fits and its variations across national traditions with respect to the news media? The same questions should be asked of a development parallel to commer— cialization: professionalization—the differentiation of journalists as a distinct occupational group with distinctive norms and traditions and, depending on the time and place, some degree of autonomy from political parties and publishers. How has this varied across nations? What have been its sources? What have been its consequences? The primary institutional and cultural features of contemporary news have a relatively brief—four hundred years at the outside—history. The occupation in which people get paid to write true stories about current events and publish them on a regular basis is about 250 years old and in many places only 150 years old.The normative commitment of this occupational group to writing political news in order to inform the citizens of a democracy is of course no older than contempo— rary democracies, a history of roughly two centuries.The idea that this same group of people, journalists, should try to write news in a nonpartisan and profes— sional manner emerged in the past one hundred years.All of these features of con— temporary journalism take a different shape in different national traditions.This essay will focus on the history of news in the United States, where the two master trends of commercialization and professionalization come into sharp focus. The Invention of News, 1690—1850 In colonial America, printers were small—businesspeople, not journalists. They pretty much invented the newspaper as they went along, amid their efforts to make money selling stationery, printing wedding announcements, running the post office, or even selling from their print shops such sundries as chocolate, tea, snuff, rum, beaver hats, patent medicines, and musical instruments.Their newspa— pers were four—page weekly journals designed initially to advertise their print shops.Their contents, after a time, tended toward a common model: an assort— ment of local advertising, occasional small paragraphs of local hearsay, and large chunks of European political and economic intelligence lifted directly from London newspapers. Political news of other colonies rarely appeared. Local political news was nearly nonexistent. If a newspaper proprietor happened to 18 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective attack the royal governor or, for that matter, the colonial legislature, he was likely to find himself indicted for seditious libel.When two historians examined a sam— ple of nineteen hundred items that Benjamin Franklin’s Pennsylvania Gazette printed from 1728 to 1765, they found only thirty—four that touched on politics in Philadelphia or Pennsylvania?Eighteenth—century printers avoided contro— versy when they could, and printed primarily foreign news because it afforded local readers and local authorities no grounds for grumbling. As conflict with England heated up after 1765, politics entered the press, and printerly “fairness” went by the board. It became more troublesome for printers to be neutral than to be partisan; nearly everyone felt compelled to take sides. Print shops became hives of political activity. In the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, colonial politics had been ordinarily limited to a small cir— cle of gentlemen.When an occasional pamphlet took up a political issue, it addressed itself to the colonial assembly, not the general population. Pamphleteers became more active in political campaigning in the 17405 in New York, Philadelphia, and Boston, but pamphlet publication reached its height later, especially with Thomas Paine’s publication of Common Sense in 1776. Where the typical pamphlet was printed once or twice in editions of a few thou- sand, Common Sense sold an estimated 150,000 and was reprinted in newspapers up and down the coast. Paine, like other professional pamphleteers of his gener— ation, addressed the general populace, but he extended and perfected the prac— tice, dropping esoteric classical references for familiar biblical ones, seeking a common language.3 In the same era, the newspaper began its long career as the mouthpiece of political parties and factions. Patriots had no tolerance for the pro—British press, and the new states passed and enforced treason and sedition statutes in the 17705 and 17805. By the time of the state—by—state debates over ratification of the Constitution in 1787—88, Federalists, those leaders who supported a strong national government, dominated the press and squeezed Antifederalists out of public debate. In Pennsylvania, leading papers tended not to report Antifederalist speeches at the ratification convention. When unusual newspapers in Philadelphia, New York, and Boston sought to report views on both sides, Federalists stopped their subscriptions and forced the papers to end their attempt at evenhandedness.4 Some of the nation’s founders believed that outspoken political criticism was well justified so long as the American colonists were fighting a monar— chy for their independence, but that open critique of a duly elected republi— can government could be legitimately curtailed. Samuel Adams, the famed Boston agitator during the struggle for independence, changed his views on political action once republican government was established. This great advo— cate of open talk, committees of correspondence, an outspoken press, and vol— untary associations of citizens now opposed all hint of public associations and 19 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective public criticism that operated outside the regular channels of government.S As one contemporary observed, it did no harm for writers to mislead the peo— ple when the people were powerless, but “to mislead the judgement of the people, where they have all power, must produce the greatest possible mis— chief.”6 The Sedition Act of 1798 forbade criticism of the government, mak- ing it a criminal offense to print “any false, scandalous and malicious writing . . . against the government of the United States.”As many as one in four edi— tors of opposition papers were brought up on charges under this law. But this went further than many Americans of the day could stomach. Federalist prop— - aganda notwithstanding, Thomas Jefferson won the presidency in 1800, the Sedition Act expired, and party opposition began to be grudgingly accepted. Only at that point did the famous First Amendment declaration of 1791 that “Congress shall make no law . . . abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press” begin to accrue a legal tradition consistent with the broad protections of its language. Until then, in fact, it could be argued that the First Amendment was more of a protection of states’ rights than the rights of individuals or the press. After all, it prohibited the federal government—but not the state gov— ernments—from abridging freedom of speech and of the press. The Press and Political Parties: 1800—1890 In the first decades of the new nation, intensely partisan newspapers were fre— quently founded as weapons for a party or faction, such as Alexander Hamilton’s NewYork Evening Post, begun in 1801 to recoup Federalist power after the loss of the presidency to Jefferson. Jefferson, well remembered for his 1787 statement that he would prefer newspapers without a government to a government with— out newspapers, was as president a prime target for the vituperation of the Federalist press. So it is perhaps not surprising that, while president, he wrote more caustically about newspapers, telling a friend in 1807,“The man who never looks into a newspaper is better informed than he who reads them, inasmuch as he who knows nothing is nearer the truth than he whose mind is filled with falsehoods and errors.”7 Editors attacked one another as viciously as they attacked politicians, and sometimes they carried rivalries into fistfights and duels. Reporting of news was incidental, unorganized, and obviously subordinated to editorial partisanship. Politicians complained bitterly about the other party’s papers but they still offered favors to the press as a whole.The Postal Acts of 1792 and 1794 provided newspapers preferential mailing rates, so from the republic’s first days the press was the beneficiary of laws that enriched and enlarged the newspaper business. As late as 1830 the largest paper in the country had a circulation of only forty—five hundred, and that was more than double a typical city paper’s reach. Newspapers were differentiated by that time from the post office and the print 20 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective shop, at least in leading cities, but they were not clearly distinguished from the party, faction, church, or other organization they served. Journalism was not an identifiable occupational path. Few papers hired reporters. A “correspondent” was just that, a friend or acquaintance of the editor whose writing was that of an unpaid amateur. But like other institutions in Jacksonian America, newspapers were about to undergo a democratic revolution. In the 1820s, several New York papers began to send small boats out to incoming ships to get the London news more quickly. Beginning with the New York Sun in 1833, a new breed of newspaper sought commercial success and a mass readership. Between 1833 and 1835 in NewYork, Boston, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, venturesome entrepreneurs began “penny papers” selling for a penny an issue rather than six cents.8 The new papers were hawked on the street by newsboys rather than being sold exclusively by subscrip— tion or at the newspaper office. The penny press aggressively sought out local news, assigning reporters to the courts and even to coverage of “society.”They also actively solicited advertising and engaged in vigorous competition to get the “latest” news as fast as they could. The penny papers’ business—minded assertiveness made them the earliest organizations to adopt new technologies. In 1835, already selling twenty thou- :" sand copies a day, the NewYork Sun became the first newspaper in the country to purchase a steam~driven press. Another penny paper, the Baltimore Sun, made early use of the telegraph and helped encourage its public acceptance. During the war with Mexico in 1846, penny papers in NewYork and Philadelphia made the first and fullest use of the telegraph.Technology was available but it took the peculiar disposition of the competitive, news—hungry, circulation—building penny papers to make quick use of it. What the penny papers brought to American journalism was a broadened, robust sense of what counts as news and an assertive dedication to making profits (through news) more than promoting policies or politicians. The penny papers were at the leading edge of journalistic innovation before the Civil War, but the most widely circulated papers of the time were still country weeklies or other nondailies with local circulations.These papers were invariably boosters of economic development in their own towns and regions. A newspaper career often included employment at both country and city papers. Horace Greeley, like many other journalists of his day, began his career on a small town weekly. He moved from Vermont to Pennsylvania to what was already fast becoming journalism’s mecca, New York. There he first issued a literary magazine, then in 1840 ran the Whig Party’s campaign news— paper, and in 1841 began a penny paper of his own, the New York Tribune. The Tribune became one of the most influential papers of mid—century, and while it never rivaled the circulation of the New York Herald, James Gordon Bennett’s penny paper, its weekly edition established a significant circulation beyond 21 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective New York City. It was widely known in rural communities throughout New York, New England, and the West. The pluralism of American society was reflected in the press. There was a flourishing German—language press in the antebellum years when Germans represented a quarter of all foreign—born citizens. In 1828 the Cherokee Phoenix began as the first Native American newspaper, published bilingually in English and Cherokee. The African American press began with Freedom’s Journal in New York in 1827. Frederick Douglass began The North Star in Rochester in 1847. African American—run papers before the Civil War were a part of the abolitionist movement, whose most famous journalistic leader, apart from Douglass, was William Lloyd Garrison with his Boston—based Liberator, first published in 1831. The abolitionist press served as a vital part of a growing social movement. In the conventional daily press, newsgathering grew as the papers’ central function, but this was not as obvious a development as one might imagine.As late as 1846, only Baltimore and Washington papers assigned special correspondents to cover Congress. Only as politics heated up in the 18505 did this change, with more than fifty papers hiring Washington correspondents.The correspondents typically wrote for a half dozen or more papers and earned further salary as clerks for congressional committees or speechwriters for the politicians they were cov— ering. They often lived at the same boardinghouses as congressmen, and the boardinghouses tended to divide along party lines.The occupational world of journalism was thinly differentiated from politics. Despite the proud, independ— ent commercial—mindedness of the penny papers, for most of the nineteenth century most important journals were political, financially supported by one party or another, and dedicated to rousing the party faithful as much as to report— ing the news. Not only did parties sponsor newspapers, but factions of parties and sometimes individual politicians did so, too.9 But the connection between party and paper began to weaken late in the nineteenth century. After the Civil War, newspapers rapidly expanded as prof— itable businesses, the biggest of them larger than all but a few other industrial operations. By 1870, every major daily in New York, which was already the nation’s media capital, had at least one hundred employees.Advertising became a more central source of income and new advertisers, notably the urban depart- ment stores, became a major source of revenue. Competition for news grew intense; so did competition for readers. Promotional campaigns and stunts aggressively courted new audiences, particu— larly women. Simpler language, larger headlines, and more lavish illustrations helped to extend readership to immigrants and others whose abilities with writ— ten English were limited. By 1880, New York City had half a million foreign— born citizens; a decade later 40 percent of the city’s population was foreign born. For ambitious publishers, economic changes made a new mass journalism possi— 22 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective ble, the prospect of profit made itdesirable, and the changing habits and inhabi— tants of the cities made it necessary. At the turn of the century, the most celebrated publishers of the big mass— circulation daily newspapers were Joseph Pulitzer (at the New York World) and William Randolph Hearst (at the New York Journal). Pulitzer pioneered most of the new crowd—pleasing developments when he came to New York jour~ nalism in the 18805. When Hearst arrived in 1895 from San Francisco, he bought a faltering paper and quickly introduced comics, sensational news cov— erage, and a self—promoting crusading spirit as he battled Pulitzer for the biggest share of the city’s circulation. Hearst, followed somewhat more gingerly by Pulitzer, pushed for a war with Spain in the late 18905 and sent correspon— dents to Cuba, then a Spanish colony, to cover the developing crisis there. ' The warmongering was a high—water mark of sensationalism. Still, the com- mon View that this so—called yellow journalism “caused” American interven— tion owes a lot to Hearst’s delight in taking credit for the war. Many other leading papers, including those with the greatest influence in elite circles, opposed American intervention. The pull of dollars and the popularity of sensationalism helped move news- papers away from parties. So, too, did a growing reform movement that ques— tioned the worth of parties altogether. In the 18705 and 18805, liberal reformers, first among Republicans and then Democrats, began to criticize the very notion of party loyalty. They promoted new forms of political campaigning, urging an educational rather than participatory or “spectacular” campaign, moving from parades to pamphlets.They urged that citizens, in the exercise of the franchise, make an informed choice among candidates, parties, and policies rather than demonstrate an emotional allegiance to a party label. Newspapers became more willing to take an independent stand. By 1890 a quarter of daily newspapers in the North, where antiparty reforms were most advanced, claimed independence of party. As late as the 18905, when a standard Republican paper covered a presiden— tial election, it not only deplored and derided Democratic candidates, very often it simply neglected to mention them. In the days before public—opinion polling, the size of partisan rallies was taken as a proxy for likely electoral results. Republican rallies would be described as “monster meetings” in the Republican papers, while Democratic rallies would often not be covered at all. For Democratic papers, it was just the reverse. Partisanship ran deep in nineteenth— century American journalism and well into the twentieth century. At the same time, the independent spirit of reform, and the economic excesses and political corruption of the Gilded Age, produced an activist brand of j ournalism known as muckraking. Its exemplars—Jacob Riis, Ida Tarbell, and Lincoln Steffens— attacked the privileges of class and wealth and made no apologies about advocat— ing change. Although newspapers participated in this reform journalism, the 23 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective most notable muckrakers wrote for a new set of monthly magazines that addressed a national, middle—class audience. Although journalism at the turn of the twentieth century could not be called a professional field, professionalizing tendencies were at work. First, antiparty reforms and the growing commercial strength of newspapers loosened the hold of parties on the press. Second, reporters came increasingly to enjoy a culture of their own, independent of political parties.They developed their own mythologies (reveling in their intimacy with the urban underworld), their own clubs and watering holes, and their own professional practices. Reporters’ status, income, and esprit de corps rose at the end of the century. Popular acclaim for dashing reporters—Elizabeth Cochrane (Nellie Bly) going around the world in eighty days, Henry Morton Stanley finding David Livingston in Africa, the handsome Richard Harding Davis reporting on war and on football, added to the appeal of the field. Third, the work of reporting began to involve more than stenography or observations and sketches. Interviewing, all but unknown in 1865, was widely practiced by 1900 and was the mainstay of American journalism byWorldWar I, when it was still rare in Europe.The rapid diffusion of this new practice among American journalists seems to have been unaccompanied by any ideological rationale. It fit effortlessly into a journalism already fact—centered and news—cen~ tered rather than devoted primarily to political commentary or preoccupied with literary aspirations.10 It was one of the growing number of practices that identified journalists as a distinct occupational group with distinct patterns of behavior. The growing corporate coherence of that occupational group would soon produce a self—conscious professionalism and ethic of objectivity. The Growing Commercialization of News: 1900—1945 The industrial, educational, and technological expansion of the early twentieth century swept newspapers along with it.The number of daily newspapers peaked in 1910 at about twenty—six hundred, and foreign—language papers flourished. In 1900 more than a quarter of the literate population subscribed to a newspaper— a figure that would grow to 45 percent thirty years later.11 Photographs, which had been included occasionally in publications as far back as the Civil War, became commonplace in news reporting, while other visual elements, such as comics and rotogravure sections, provided entertaining relief from the gray dull— ness of earlier eras. But even as individual newspapers thrived, the seeds of con— solidation were taking root. By the early 1920s, chain ownership would be increasingly common, driven by the speed and productivity made possible by the Linotype machine and the rotary press, the growth of national advertising, and the business and political ambitions of Pulitzer, Hearst, and other press barons. 24 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective Newspapers had attempted to cut costs through cooperative news gathering as early as the 18305, but chains in the modern sense did not emerge until sixty years later.The first large chain in the United States was assembled by an eccen— tric populist named EdwardW Scripps, who in addition to founding, merging, acquiring, and selling dozens of papers during his lifetime, launched the United Press Association, the precursor of United Press International, in 1907.William Randolph Hearst’s empire, which consisted of six newspapers in 1904, swelled to twenty daily and eleven Sunday newspapers, two wire services, six magazines, and a newsreel company by 1922.12 Frank Gannett, whose first acquisition was a half-interest in the tiny Elmira (NY) Gazette in 1906, owned a stable of twenty— one newspapers and seven radio stations two decades later. The political and financial clout of chains made it increasingly difficult for single newspapers to compete, and the number of papers declined dramatically. NewYork City, once home to twenty dailies, had just eight in 1940.13By the early 19305, the six largest chains—Hearst, Patterson—McCormick, Scripps—Howard, Paul Block, Ridder, and Gannett—controlled more than two—thirds of the daily—newspaper circula— tion in the country.The publisher Frank Munsey—known to critics as “the great executioner of newspapers”—had predicted in 1903 that “it will not be many years . . . before the publishing business of this country will be done by a few concerns.”1“Now,Munsey’s prediction seemed to be coming true. On the eve of the United States’ entry into World War II, twenty—five of the country’s largest cities had just one daily, and that paper was increasingly likely to be controlled by a chain. Meanwhile, magazines came to play a larger role in news gathering and reporting. With the launch of Time in 1923, founders Henry Luce and Briton Hadden introduced a revolutionary concept in news magazines. Unlike the Nation, Harper’s VVeelely, the Atlantic Monthly, and other nineteenth—century mod— els, Time relied on “group journalism,” synthesizing information from the previ— ous week’s newspaper and wire service reports in lively and heavily opinionated stories that appeared without bylines, giving the impression that a single person, with a single sensibility, had written the entire magazine. Time’s success inspired competitors, including Newsweek and U. S. News 8 World Report (both founded in 1933), and Business I/Veele, launched, ironically, in a year that became synonymous with financial ruin—1929. Eventually, Luce (Hadden died in 1929) sat atop a diversified publishing empire that included a successful photojournalism maga— zine (Life), a business magazine (Fortune), and a radio program and a newsreel both called The March of Time.15 That press barons such as Luce and Gannett sought to be players in radio is no accident.The reach of newspapers and magazines was by definition tied to the transportation system; the number of people who read Luce’s Time or Gannett’s Rochester— Times Union was limited by how many copies could be distributed over a defined geographic area. Radio technology, which had become more sophisti~ 25 7", CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective cated as a result of war—related research during World War I, made it possible for the first time to reach a mass audience—with all the power and influence that implied. Indeed, throughout the 19205 debate raged about who would control the new medium, how it would be funded, and whether it should be used for educational, cultural, political, public service, or commercial purposes. In 1919 General Electric, at the urging of US. Navy officials, bought out British Marconi Wireless’s American subsidiary, ostensibly to prevent foreign takeovers of US. broadcasting facilities.Then, together with American Telegraph & Telephone, United Fruit, and Westinghouse Electric, the company pooled all American radio patents in a new entity called the Radio Corporation of America (RCA).The move was anticompetitive, possibly even illegal, and helped ensure business domination of the airwaves for years to come. But RCA’s initial mission—manufacturing radio equipment and perfecting radio technology-— was only the beginning. Companies soon realized that radio could reach a pop— ular market for a relatively small investment.When the first modern broadcast went on the air on November 2, 1920—-KDKA, a Westinghouse station in Pittsburgh, announced the results of the presidential race between Warren G. Harding and James M. Cox—the company’s goal was not so much to dissemi— nate news as to get listeners to tune in so they would buy radio receiving sets. Barely two years later,WEAF in NewYork City charged a Queens realtor fifty dollars to deliver a ten-minute pitch for his new apartment complexThus was born the first “commercial,” gradually changing radio from a service supported by the sale of sets to one supported largely by advertising.16 As the United States entered the 19305, the contours of a modern broadcast— ing structure had begun to emerge, with radio firmly controlled by commercial interests and loosely regulated by the federal government—a departure from the traditional hands-off relationship between government and the print press.The Radio Act of 1927 had declared the airwaves public property subject to govern— ment licensing, and called on the Commerce Department and the Interstate Commerce Commission to share regulation “in the public interest, convenience, or necessity.”With the passage of the federal Communications Act of 1934, reg— ulation was consolidated in a single new agency—the Federal Communications Commission (FCC)——which came to symbolize the new alliance between gov— ernment and private industry. As the number of radio stations grew (there were five in 1921, seven hundred in 1927), so did the global reach of radio news. In 1929 Americans heard a symphony broadcast from Queen’s Hall in London, and an account of Admiral Richard Byrd’s exploits in Antarctica. Politicians were quick to exploit radio’s ability to bypass reporters and editors and go straight to the people. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, first elected to the White House in 1932, became known as the “Radio President” because of his Fireside Chats. “Radio has given to the president a weapon such as no ruler has ever known,” wrote the editor of Radio Guide in 1934. “It enables him instantaneously to answer, over— 26 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective throw and defeat any false statement concerning himself, the government, or his plans.”17 The Depression was unkind to newspapers, in part because many advertisers switched their business to radio.Adolph S. Ochs, publisher of the Neil/York Times, cut the size of the paper and slashed executive bonuses; Hearst poured his own personal fortune into his papers to keep them alive. But the real toll was on reporters, who in 1933 made an average wage of barely $30 a week—if they were lucky enough to work at all. Spurred on by Roosevelt’s National Recovery Act, which allowed employees to organize and bargain collectively, news reporters for the first time banded together in a union: the American Newspaper Guild. Many publishers—and some reporters, as well—worried that unionizing journalists was anathema to the very notion of an independent press. Objectivity would suffer, they said, especially in stories about business and labor. In part to answer such criticisms, the guild in 1934 adopted a code of ethics calling for accurate and unbiased reporting, guided “only by fact and fairness.” Newspapermen and women clearly considered themselves members of a profes— sion with distinct norms and standards, but by unionizing, they also aligned themselves with labor, not white—collar workers. While most reporters aspired to objectivity as an ideal, some press owners openly rejected it. Henry Luce used his publications to spread his pro—business, muscularly American views, while Robert McCormick’s Chicago Tribune pub— lished unabashedly biased coverage of Roosevelt’s reelection campaigns and thumped the tub for isolationism in the years leading up to World War II.When America finally entered the conflict in 1941,print and radio correspondents sta— tioned abroad and at home acceded to government censorship as a wartime necessity. At the same time, they had remarkably open access to military action that allowed them to produce firsthand accounts from the battlefront, including the invasion of Normandy. In radio, Edward R. Murrow of CBS provided some of the war’s most memorable reporting with his “This . . .is London” broadcasts from the British capital during the blitzkrieg. Although such coverage was expensive—at the war’s peak, news outlets had twenty—six hundred American correspondents stationed overseas—the public benefited from its front—row seat at world events. The Limits of Objectivity: The 195 05 As the country entered the postwar era, objectivity was universally acknowl— edged to be the spine of the journalist’s moral code. It was asserted in the text~ books used in journalism schools, it was asserted in codes of ethics of professional associations. It was at last a code of professional honor and a set of rules to give professionals both guidance and cover. Members of the American Society of Newspaper Editors had adopted a code of ethics or “Canons of Journalism” at 27 they also worked around its limits. In the 19305 there was a vogue for what CH 2: American journalism in. Historical Perspective their first convention in 1923 that included a principle of “Sincerity, Truthfulness, Accuracy” and another of “Impartiality,” the latter including the declaration,“News reports should be free from opinion or bias of any kind.”18 At the time, objectivity was a kind of industrial discipline to help keep reporters in line, but it was also a natural and progressive ideology for an aspiring occupa— tional group during an era when science was god, efficiency was cherished,_and increasingly prominent elites judged partisanship a vestige of the tribal nine— teenth century. It was also a way to disaffiliate from the new “profession” ofpub— lic relations, which had gotten a great boost from President Woodrow Wilson’s efforts to “sell”WorldWar I to the American public. At the very moment that journalists claimed “objectivity” as their ideal, r‘vzti’i’contemporaries called “interpretive journalism.” Leading journalists and jour— nalism educators insisted that the world had grown increasingly complex and needed not only to be reported but explained. Political columnists such as Walter Lippmann, David Lawrence, Frank Kent, and Mark Sullivan came into their own during this era. Journalists insisted that their task was to help read— ers not only know but understand. They took it for granted that understand— ing in any sense they could admire had nothing to do with party or partisan sentiment. Even so, for most working journalists, the rule of objectivity remained cardinal. But with the ascension of Joseph R. McCarthy, the limits of objec— tivity became more apparent. McCarthy, a junior senator from Wisconsin, first made headlines in February 1950, with his sensational claims that there were hundreds of Communists in the U.S. State Department. Over the next four years, his drumbeat of allegations, often aimed at specific government officials and even military officers, grew louder. Although McCarthy rarely provided supporting evidence, the mere fact that a U.S. senator was making these charges made news, while digging deeper to find out whether they were true took more time and effort than most reporters could spare. McCarthy, well attuned to the ways of the press, exploited the newspapers’ competitive search for a hot story, the pressure of deadlines, the practice of objectivity, and the defer— ence routinely granted a U.S. senator. Some papers—the Washington Post and the Milwaukee Journal, for example—investigated the veracity of his claims, and columnists such as Drew Pearson and Joseph Alsop gave McCarthy no quarter. But it took television finally to show that this emperor wore no clothes, even if, by that point, McCarthy’s influence was waning. On March 9, 1954, on his popular See It Now program, Edward R. Murrow broadcast a half—hour of film clips showing McCarthy at his worst. When McCarthy made false charges or contradicted himself, Murrow pointed it out. At the end of the broadcast, Murrow spoke directly to the television audience in what amounted 28 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective to an impassioned editorial against “McCarthyism”: “The actions of the jun— ior senator from Wisconsin have caused alarm and dismay amongst our allies abroad and given considerable comfort to our enemies,” he said. “And whose fault is that? Not really his. He didn’t create this situation of fear, he merely exploited it—and rather successfully. Cassius was right: ‘The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars but in ourselves.”"9 McCarthy continued his crusade, but the broadcast had mortally wounded him. Then in April and May, television helped McCarthy expose his own bullying in live broadcasts of six weeks of McCarthy’s investigation of Communist subversion in the U.S. Army. Republicans sought, but failed, to block the television coverage because they could see what television was doing to their wayward colleague.James Reston of the New Yorle Times summed it up in saying that McCarthy, on television, “demonstrated with appalling clarity precisely what kind of man he is.”2" On December 2, 1954, the Senate officially censured McCarthy; three years later, he was dead. The incident demonstrated the growing power of television. Sets had been available as early as 1938 (they were a big hit at the 1939 World’s Fair), butWorld War II had diverted the electronics industry from fully developing the medium. By 1948, however, television was on its way, with 172,000 homes equipped to receive programming—a figure that would climb to 42 million just ten years later.21 At first, TV programming seemed to be little more than radio with pic— tures; indeed, many of the first TV announcers and anchors came from radio. But by the early 19505, TV offered its own entertainment series and nightly news broadcasts, prompting the creation of what would become one of the most suc— cessful magazines ever—~TV Guide. The 1952 presidential race between Dwight D. Eisenhower and Adlai Stevenson was the first to provide advertiser—sponsored campaign coverage; that same year, Eisenhower’s running mate, Richard M. Nixon, resorted to aTV appearance to defend himself against charges of corrup— tion and save his political career with an address that became famous as the “Checkers” speech. By 1960, when Nixon squared off with John F. Kennedy in a series of decisive televised debates, the medium’s ability to influence public opinion was indisputable—and not always applauded. The money to be made through television advertising was not lost on media owners, who continued to acquire, merge, and consolidate properties after the war. At the urging of Time magazine founder Henry Luce, who feared that too much media concentration would invite government regula— tion, the president of the University of Chicago, Robert M. Hutchins, formed a commission to “look into the present state and future prospects of freedom of the press.”The commission was a collection of “great men,” none of them journalists, but its report, A Free and Responsible Press, issued in 1947, is remark—- ably prescient in its anticipation of troubling trends in journalism. In partic— ular, the commission singled out the increasingly monopolistic nature of the 29 11ft“ CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective press as a danger to democracy. “Throughout the communications industry the little fellow exists on very narrow margins, and the opportunities for ini— tiating new ventures are strictly limited,” the report said.22 Predictably, press owners reacted negatively, and over the ensuing two decades kept up a brisk pace of acquisitions. The nature of reporting changed, too, after the mid—century point. Correspondents had frequently cooperated with government during World War II and the early postwar years. Now a new, more adversarial generation was working its way up through the ranks.The NewYorIe Times’ decision to play down the imminence of an invasion of Communist Cuba by Cuban exiles, eliminating all references to sponsorship of the operation by the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency, generated angry debate at the paper.When the April 17, 1961, invasion, known as the Bay of Pigs, failed, resulting in 1,000 captives, 114 dead, and embarrassment for the White House, President Kennedy himself commented that he wished that the Times had published all it knew. The apotheosis of the changed relationship between government and the press was the war in Vietnam—sometimes called the first “television war.” At first, most journalists, like most Americans, subscribed to the domino theory, which held that if one nation becomes Communist controlled, neighboring nations will follow, and accepted the White House position that it was vital to defend SouthVietnam against the Communist North. But as American casualties mounted, and the perception grew that victory was unlikely, both the press and the public became more skeptical.The policy that the Kennedy administration and that of its successor, Lyndon Johnson, followed inVietnam set them a devil- ish media problem—how to convey to the enemy their resolve to pursue the war to victory while communicating to the American public their assurance that the war would require a limited commitment. Nothing shattered the precarious success of that communication effort more than the Tet Offensive in late January 1968, which involved surprise attacks by the North Vietnamese fighters, the Vietcong, on more than half the provincial capitals of SouthVietnam.While in strictly military terms, the Vietcong suffered heavy losses in the assault, the Communist North gained a great psychological victory by taking the war into the streets of Saigon and making it clear that the United States did not by any account have the fighting under control. Barely a month later, the CBS anchorman Walter Cronkite, just back from a visit to Vietnam, shed his trademark neutrality and delivered a blunt on—air critique. “It seems now more certain than ever that the bloody experience of Vietnam is to end in a stalemate,” he said.The only “rational way out” for the United States was to negotiate.23 Objectivity, at least in this instance, had given way to advocacy, something the conflicts of the 19605—Vietnam, the civil rights movement, the assassinations of President Kennedy, his brother Robert Kennedy, and the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.—seemed to demand. 30 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective The Adversarial Press: The 1 9703 As more and more Americans, both in the general public and in Congress, came to doubt the chances of military success, journalists began to reflect the country’s lack of consensus about the war. Increasingly, the news emphasized policy divi— sions and conflict in Washington. Even adhering to the standards of objectivity produced a portrait much more varied, and much less flattering to the adminis— tration’s policy pronouncements than before. To counter the growing swell of bad news, the Nixon White House successfully promoted the notion that con- trary to their profession’s own dogma, journalists were not public—spirited surro— gates for citizens. Instead, they were an independent and dangerously ' irresponsible source of power.24Vice President Spiro Agnew denounced intellec—F, tuals who attacked American policy as “nattering nabobs of negativism,” while the White House, eager to stop damaging leaks to the press, illegally wiretapped journalists, including New York Times reporter Hedrick Smith and CBS newsman Marvin Kalb. It was in this atmosphere of acrimony and growing disillusion with the war in Vietnam that the New York Times published what came to be known as the Pentagon Papers. Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara had commissioned the study of U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia during the final year of the Johnson administration.When it was completed, the forty—seven—volume top— secret study, much of it from classified material, showed a pattern of government arrogance, missteps, and outright lies about the extent of U.S. military engage— ment. On June 13, 1971, the Times began publishing a series of articles based on the study, portions of which had been made available to the paper by Daniel Ellsberg, an analyst who had worked on the project.Two days later, the Nixon Justice Department, arguing violation of national security, obtained a temporary restraining order to halt further installments—the first time in the nation’s his— tory that a newspaper was prevented in advance by a court from publishing a specific article. In defiance, the Washington Post began running stories based on the documents, followed by the Boston Globe. The government moved against both papers as it had against the Times. OnJune 30, in a historic 6 to 3 decision, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the constitutional guarantee of a free press overrode the government’s concerns, and allowed further publication. For its daring expose of the government’s decades—long record of duplicity, the Neil/York Times was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Meritorious Public Service, journal— ism’s highest honor. A year later, the Washington Post won the same award for what has become an iconic example of modern investigative reporting:Watergate, a scandal of politi— cal intrigue and obstruction of justice that eventually led to Nixon’s resignation. The stories made celebrities of Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, the rookie reporters who wrote them, although even Post publisher Katharine Graham later 31 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective admitted that it wasn’t the press that brought down the president.As Edward Jay Epstein observed in a 1974 article in Commentary, the “agencies of government itself ”—the courts, the FBI, and congressional committees—played a pivotal role.25 Nevertheless, the morality tale that was Watergate did have an effect on journalism, exacerbating the already adversarial relationship between the White House and reporters, underscoring the “character issue” in politics, making the pursuit of scandal synonymous with news, and lionizing investigative reporters in ways that their forebears, the muckrakers, could never have imagined. ‘ By the mid—19705, public confidence in national leadership had crumbled ,‘under the cumulative weight ofVietnam, the Pentagon Papers, andWatergate.An increasingly critical culture, even an “adversary culture,” had expanded from the groves of academe to the halls of Congress itself, while the explosion of news as a cultural commodity on television underscored doubts that the line between journalism and business or news and entertainment could stand. One thing was certain: broadcast news, once a prestigious add—on to network programming that was not expected to turn a profit, had begun to make money. In 1961 the FCC chairman, Newton N. Minow, had memorably declared television to be a “vast wasteland,” and urged the networks to produce more news programmingThey did. In 1963 NBC and CBS increased the time devoted to nightly news from fif— teen minutes to thirty (ABC later followed suit).That same year, a Roper poll found for the first time that more Americans said they relied on television than newspapers as their primary source of news.When 60 Minutes debuted in 1968, it became the most highly rated program in the country and put the CBS news division in the black for the first time. Imitators such as 20/20, Dateline NBC, and Prime Time Live soon followed. For the first time,TV news was not only cen— tral to American life, it was central in the thinking of the broadcasting companies themselves. At the same time, despite the steady drumbeat of history—making events dur— ‘ ing the 19705, most daily newspapers reduced the amount of strictly political and economic news they covered. One reason was the entry into adulthood of the baby boomers, who, as the first TV generation, never developed the newspaper— reading habits of their elders.Women who in earlier eras had been full~time homemakers streamed into the work force, with less time for newspapers, while the post—World War II suburban lifestyle meant longer hours commuting to work. Surveys showed readers wanted more information about entertainment, leisure, and daily living concerns. Publishers complied by reconfiguring newspa— pers to attract a younger, time—conscious audience. Features about food, home, and fashion that had once been relegated to the “women’s page” were now wel— comed under the ever-expanding umbrella of what was considered “news.” Even the New York Times, which prided itself on comprehensive national and foreign coverage, launched a “Living” section, while news magazines, unable to match the immediacy of television, ran reader—friendly cover stories on ice cream, back 32 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective pain, and cats. Emblematic of the phenomenon was People, which went from a regular light feature in Time to a stand—alone magazine in 1974, and the national newspaper USA 'Ibday, created in 1982 on the assumption that brief stories and bright graphics would prove alluring to mobile, visually oriented readers. Rather than merely an addition of fluff, the new content amounted to a long—overdue expansion of what counted as news to include a wide range of vital aspects of public and private life that conventional political and economic coverage had generally neglected. While media companies’ eagerness to please advertisers and investors helped this expansion take hold, what fueled it in the first place was a changed cultural atmosphere. The emerging women’s move— ment, for instance, made a variety of issues related to health and medicine more newsworthy. The controversy over abortion in the 19705 made aspects of both medicine and domestic life a central public issue, as did the AIDS epidemic some years later. When “identity politics” became more central to public life, that is, when what united people with common economic interests became less impor— tant than issues that divided them according to their racial, ethnic, gender, social, and religious identities, and when it entered into the politics and personnel of American newsrooms themselves, the pressures for changing news judgments became palpable; market demand made these changes easily digestible for news organizations, but it did not create them. The drift away from hard news and toward features also occurred on net— work news programs, but for different reasons: the advent of cable and satellite technologies, and the changing economics of broadcasting. In 1970 ABC, CBS, and NBC had no competition; only 10 percent of American homes had cable. By 1989 that figure was 53 percent.26 At the same time, local news stations, their range expanded by vans equipped with satellite dishes, were able to cover national events that had once been the exclusive preserve of the networks.The result was a gradual drop in the audience for network news.To reverse falling rat— ings, the networks pared back serious policy coverage and expensive reporting from overseas—so much so that when the political scientist Robert M. Entman compared two months of network newscasts in 1975 and 1986 he found that the number of domestic policy stories had dropped by 37 percent while features increased 50 percent.27 The pace of stories became faster as well. The average sound bite, or uninterrupted excerpt from a news maker, in election coverage fell from an average of 43.1 seconds in 1968 to a mere 8.9 seconds in 1988,28 leading»; to an increase in what the media scholar Daniel C. Hallin has called “mediated” '~ news, stories in which journalists intervene to provide context, meaning, and\ analysis. This was a far cry from the conventional ideal of “objectivity” that insisted on greater deference to government officials and other news sources judged to be authoritative. Ironically, while cable greatly multiplied the number of channels available to Americans, it also made it easier to opt out of the national conversation. Prior to 33 fl' .,| \ CH 2: AmericanJournalism in Historical Perspective cable, viewers had two choices on the evenings of presidential addresses and debates: they could watch them or they could watch nothing at all.The networks honored mostWhite House requests for airtime, but cable treated such program— ming as elective, which allowed Americans to avoid the increasingly few moments television still had to serve as the collective campfire around which Cit— izens gathered. Seventy—one percent of all TV households tuned in to the presi— dential debate between Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan in 1980, according to Nielsen estimates. Eight years later, only 38 percent watched George H. W Bush square off against Michael Dukakis. “All in all,” observed the communica— tions historian James L. Baughman, “cable’s spread had not promoted democ— racy.”29 The introduction of remote—control devices, which allowed bored viewers to switch channels without leaving their seats, andVCRs, which permit— ted the audience to delay watching programs until it suited them, only acceler— ated the retreat from a shared civic experience. , To be sure, some in the cable industry tried to encourage democratic engagement. When C—SPAN was introduced in 1979, with its fixed—camera trained on congressional debates, the hope was that it would bestir Americans to witness their elected representatives in action. In fact, the audience for such fare was minute.Viewers were more interested in human interest pieces, such as the 1987 rescue of “Baby Jessica,” a little girl trapped in aTexas well, which garnered CNN its highest rating (7.4 percent) during the 1980s.30 Politicians soon found nonnetvvork television to be an effective way to reach voters. In 1992 the Texas billionaire H. Ross Perot announced his independent run for the presidency on CNN’s Larry King Live, and kept up the momentum in subsequent appearances, despite the networks virtually ignoring him.The live interview and call-1n for- mat allowed the candidate to avoid the tough questions of trained reporters and instead speak directly to voters, creating what some hailed (and others decried) as “talk—show democracy.”The traditional gatekeeper function the networks had performed in deciding who was worthy of coverage, and in what manner, had come to an end. Technology and Consolidation: 19803—19905 As the 19803 dawned, it became increasingly apparent that innovations in com— munications technology, which historically had expanded coverage from the days of the telegraph onward, now held the potential to diminish its depth and quality. Portable videotape, first used in the 1976 presidential campaign, pushed deadlines back nearly to news time, increasing the pressure on reporters to rush stories onto the air. Portable satellite uplinks, called “flyaways,” permitted pro— ducers to “go live” from around the globe, bringing viewers dramatic images of everything from the toppling of the Berlin Wall to the first hail of bombs and missiles in Baghdad at the start of the Persian Gulf War. But the emphasis on 34 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective “real time” reporting meant that the technical side of television was often ready to tell a story before the correspondent was. “Putting someone on the air while an event is unfolding is clearly a technological tour de force,” said the ABC cor— respondentTed Koppel,“but it is an impediment, not an aid, to good journalism. To simply train a camera on a complicated event is not journalism, any more than taking someone out on a boat and showing them a stretch of coastline is cartography.”31 Good or bad, the demand for “you are there” journalism grew, fed in no small part by the introduction in 1980 of CNN, the first twenty—four—hour cable news network. In an earlier era producers had worried whether there was enough news to fill a thirty—minute evening broadcast; now, the “news hole”— the amount of time allotted to reporting the day’s events—was huge. The net— work got a ratings boost in January 1991, when three of its correspondents, huddled in a Baghdad hotel room, provided the first and only live link between Americans and the US. military’s initial aerial attacks in Iraq. In the ensuing years, CNN’s ratings would soar and slump with the ebb and flow of events; Americans rarely tuned in unless there was a blockbuster event like a war or a verdict in a high—profile crime case.What the cable upstart had that its network counterparts could not match, however, was its global reach, a feature that had a profound eflect on international diplomacy. Suddenly, presidents and prime ministers witnessed world events at the same time as any citizen with access to a television and a cable hookup. As the journalist Johanna Neuman noted about CNN’s coverage of the first Gulf War: “Governments watched history with their publics, losing the luxury of time to deliberate in private before the imper— ative to ‘do something’ stood on their doorsteps.”32 The urgency reporters expe— rienced as a result of advances in communications technology was now shared by those they covered. The capacity to bring the world into the nation’s living rooms was not matched by a thirst for foreign news. Historically, Americans’ interest in interna— tional affairs had been weak and episodic, spiking in times of war or the threat of war and waning in times of peace.As Garrick Utley, a former foreign correspon— dent for NBC and ABC News, has observed, it is no coincidence that the growth of television news occurred during the period of the longest of the country’s global conflicts, the cold war, when Americans had self—interested reasons to be attentive.33 The consequence was that, with the end of the cold war, foreign news reporting both at newspapers and on television, where production costs for international reporting are particularly high, shrank steadily. According to the Tyndall Report, which monitors the networks’ weekly nightly newscasts, total foreign policy coverage at NBC plummeted from 674 minutes in 1988 to 320 minutes in 1996; reports from the network’s foreign bureaus fell from 1 ,013 min— utes to just 327 minutes. Even the leader,ABC, experienced a precipitous drop, from 1,158 minutes of foreign bureau reports in 1988 to 577 minutes in 1996.34 35 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective The paradox was clear: even as American popular culture saturated the world, American business extended its reach across borders, and more and more Americans worked and traveled overseas, broad viewer interest in foreign affairs declined.While many in journalism saw it as their professional duty to expand citizens’ notions of the public sphere, changes in the economics of news made fulfillment of that goal increasingly elusive. The corporate ownership of news organizations, firmly entrenched by mid— century, continued its relentless march, intensifying the tension between news values and commercial values. Local ownership of newspapers became increas— ingly rare as punishing inheritance laws made it hard for family papers to be passed on to succeeding generations. Some families, like the Grahams at the Washington Post and the Sulzbergers at the Neil/York Times, devised schemes that allowed them to take their companies public while still retaining control. But others sold out to chains, with the result that the share of American dailies that could be considered independently owned fell from 68 percent in 1960 to 30 35 By 2000 the nation had 292 fewer daily newspapers than it had e United States had separately e new millennium, most of the percent in 1986. in 1950; by 1992, only thirty—seven cities in th owned, competing dailies.At the beginning of th country’s papers were owned by seven national chains, ranging from Gannett, the largest in total circulation with 101 dailies, including USA Today, to Hearst, with 12. Ninety—nine percent of chain—owned papers were monopolies in the cities in which they operated. Still, some papers improved after being bought by out~of—town owners, and the newspaper industry as a whole remained surpris— ingly diverse. Even Gannett’s outsized share represented only about 6 percent of the nation’s 1,500 dailies. More troubling for journalism’s editorial mission was the growing trend toward public ownership and the merger of media companies into hydra— headed conglomerates. When Dow Jones, Inc., publisher of the Wall Street Journal, issued publicly traded stock in the early 19605, it was the first media By the late 1980s, at least fifteen publicly traded corpora- company to do so. t clear financial benefits: newspapers tions owned papers.36 The change brough could use company shares to acquire other properties; they could attract and retain top talent with stock-ownership plans; and they could use proceeds from stock sales to update plants and equipment. But it also meant that news— papers now had a new commercial interest other than advertisers to take into consideration: shareholders, who invested in newspaper companies for the same reason they invested in General Motors: to make a profit. No longer was it e Meyer, the longtime publisher of possible to have the patience of a Eugen the Washington Post, who lost a million dollars or more every year for the first twenty years of ownership?7 Many in journalism agreed with the senti— he legendary New York Times correspondent and ment that James Reston, t alysts in the early 19705: “I think columnist, had expressed to Wall Street an 36 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective the ' ' ' ' th ’time we begin thinking about the news in terms of how you look at it at sf Lhe day. . . we begin to go down the drain.”38 , p d e ddereglgilation of other industries that had begun in the 19705 picked up 5 ee un er resident Ronald Re ' ' . agan, whose administration f N . i . avored less olyjlmin; by 1the FCC in the media busmess. In 1985 the FCC under chair man ar ow er (who had once d ' ' ' ’ — escribed teleViSion as “a t ' ' tures” _ . . oaster w1th ic— baCk,t 1:mplying that it deserved no more regulation than an appliance) refilled d e .so—called 7—7—7 rule, which barred an owner of TV and FM and AM 1;: i0 stitions from havmg more than seven of each.The new limit was “12 12 , as ’ ‘ _ _ nation, ing as r}: on: companys stations reached more than a quarter of the s omes. e c ange made possible wh ‘ A i at at the time was the lar ' mer e . - . gest media numgerroin [118. history. the union of ABC (owner of a national network as well as Kansas 0;? stazopls) w1th Capital Cities Communications (owner of the l y ar an t e Fort Worth Star file r - am as well as bro d ’ L . . ~ g , a cast stations . me: thian ting/ears later, Capital Cities/ABC reclaimed that record when it r e ' corgor wit t :1 Disney Company. In between, General Electric acquired RCA pl 3 ion an , along With it, NBC, while Westinghouse took over CBS onl to se the network four years later toViacom ’ y In ' ' ' . about 1:11: meantimle, tlie media world was in the midst of a revolution brought new tec no ogy—the Internet—wh‘ ich began as a cold ‘ and moved ahead as a mech ' ' war prOJeCt anism to connect sc1entists across uni ' ‘ resea vers1t1es and five latbs around kthe world. By the early 19905 it had evolved into competi va e networ services with subscribe ' _ 4 rs. Com anies s h A ’ Online andYahoo coll ' ‘ p uc as merlca ected and distributed news ' ' they did not r the , eport it, but as “theuslel of personal computers spread, and more and more people hooked up to He et, rtliiaditional news organizations launched Web editions that allowed ws ' ' Whenngtoci y to be interactive, but updated continuously throughout the day hailed h anld TimeTWarner announced their merger in January 2000 it was said i aslt (t: itln‘late in synergy,” a word that, as the media critic Ken Auletta T, , YEP ie tSat one plus one will add up to four.”39 Suddenly the content of me, ortune, ports Illustrated and 0th ' ‘ ' , , erTime Inc publication ld ' ’ uted a ‘ “ ” _ ‘, ., 5 con be distrib— and Cclilqsls sexierafll niledia platforms —traditional print magazines the Internet' , w ic t 6 company had acquired in 1996 J i ’ , . p . ournalism could e serve ' ven never: 1tlhe baSis \Xfiirner books and mov1es.While the anticipated arithmetic y materia ize and AOL Time Warne r stock plummeted ' eventual removal of “AOL” fr ,promptmg the . om the company’s name the atic ofAmerica’s transform ‘ ’ merger was emblem— ed media landsca e In an 1’ ' Hearst and Luce domi . . p . ear ier era, press lords like nated a Sll’lglC medium on a ' ' Single continent B th ‘ to late 1 i I y 6 mid— MurdOCh9fl0s, modeil'ln-day magnates were diversified; the Australian Rupert , e contro ing owner of News Cor ' ~ _ poration sat atop an em ' h spanned SIX continents and nin ' ' ' , plre t at e different media includin m ‘ . l , g newspapers, books, agaZines, broadcasting, direct—broadcast satellite TV, and a movie studio 4" 37 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective Media conglomerates generated impressive revenues. Whether they were good for journalism, or democracy, however, was a matter of spirited debate. Critics such as RobertW McChesney and Ben H. Bagdikian argued that consol— idation fostered a numbing sameness in news selection and presentation, reduced the number of distinct editorial voices, and multiplied the opportunities for con— flicts of interest. In 1998, for example, ABC killed a story critical of the hiring and safety practices at a theme park owned by Disney, its parent company. Likewise, during the nine months that it took to debate and pass the Telecommunications Act of 1996—legislation that FCC chairman Reed Hundt called “the biggest corporate giveaway of the century”—-Americans learned lit— tle about the details. No more than nineteen minutes about the proposal man— aged to get on the three major networks, whose owning companies stood to benefit from the changes, and what did make the air failed to mention one of the bill’s most controversial aspects: the debate over whether broadcasters should pay for use of the digital spectrum.41 . ‘ Journalism had always been a business, but professional norms and traditipns had kept a sharp separation between the “church” of reporting and the state of the countinghouse. Now the wall between the two seemed to be lowering.The phenomenon was apparent in 1999 when the Los Angeles Times, under the cor- porate leadership of chairman and CEO Mark Willes, a former Ceneral Mills executive, agreed to share the profits of a special Sunday magazme about the opening of the Staples Center, a downtown arena, With the owners of thenew facilityThe stock price of Times-Mirror, the paper’s parent company, had tripled underWilles, who displayed it on a screen in the Times’s lobby where reporters saw it before their morning elevator ride.42 But the paper’s credibility had been dangerously compromised. In short order, the “cereal killer,” as Willes was deri- sively known, was sent packing. The Staples inCident became a scandal, the Times ’s editorial staff was publicly and loudly up in arms, and the embarrassment for the paper was severe. . But the momentum toward business involvement on the news Side was powerful. News magazines such as Time used focus groups to determine which cover stories readers would find most compelling. The Today Show, NBCs morning news program, spent almost as many minutes each day in “cross-pro— motion”-——soft—selling the network’s prime—time lineup in interViews and fea— tures—as it did on breaking events. The line between news and entertain- ment, already blurred, became fuzzier still. Because cost cutting was an easy way to boost profits, some newsrooms lacked adequate resources to pursue complex stories. Others replaced older, more experienced staff w1th younger, less expensive reporters. Some practiced triage, closmg Statehouse bureaus and leaving certain agencies of the federal government uncoveredThe trend toward “convergence”——-the replacement of competition between different kinds of media with cooperation—meant that reporters at some news organizations 38 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective were called upon to file stories for their company’s newspaper, TV station, and Web page, raising questions about quality and completenessWall Street, by its nature conservative, sought regular, positive, predictable results and dis— liked the risk associated with tough investigative stories that might require time—consuming Freedom of Information requests or invite lawsuits and neg— ative publicity. “Although journalism is important,” a research analyst for Bank of America Securities told a New York Times reporter, “at the end of the day, investors care more about the number of newspapers you sell and the ad rate increases you get, rather than the number of Pulitzer Prizes.”43 Increasingly, reporters, editors, and producers struggled to maintain what many argued was journalism’s greatest public function—its watchdog role—in the face of the professions private masters. Even public broadcasting, begun in 1967 to serve as a civic and cultural counterweight to commercial programming, felt the hot breath of financial pres— sure. While the Public Broadcasting Service’s evening newscast, The MacNeil- Lehrer News Hour (retitled The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer after coanchor Robert MacNeil left the show) drew an educated elite to its in—depth interviews and analysis, and National Public Radio’s audience surged, fickle government fund— ing left PBS continually in search of corporate underwriters and advertisers. It also made PBS vulnerable to conservative politicians like Senator Newt Gingrich, who in 1995 as Speaker of the House, denounced public broadcasting as “this little sandbox for the rich” and sought to cut off federal subsidies. By 2004, the Right had pragmatically given up trying to eliminate PBS and settled for a stronger role in shaping its programming.44 The power of economic pressures and incentives could not be denied. Still, at the beginning of the twenty—first century, reporters and editors operated with resources for good journalism that they did not command a generation earlier. The capacities in both print and television for graphic display of visual and sta— tistical information were much improved.The multitude of databases, available online, including easy access to news stories in every major and most minor newspapers around the country, simplified and enriched the research that reporters could master in a short time. Even more important than these techno— logical changes, the cultural transformations in politics and the media since the 19603 provided a new openness to government sources. The Freedom of Information Act (enacted in 1967 and expanded and toughened in 1974) pro— vided a valuable new tool to journalists seeking information that government agencies were reluctant to share. The data collected by the Federal Election Commission (established in 1974) on campaign contributors and campaign finances created a way to “follow the money” in elections—imperfectly, to be sure, but much more carefully (and readily) than ever before. The movement toward open committee meetings and roll—call votes in Congress, part of a gen- eral wave of open government reforms in the 1970s at both federal and state lev— 39 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective els, also made journalism a better partner to democracy than had been previously possible. More Information, Less News: The Challenge of the Present Today, Americans are saturated with images, interviews, facts, and analysis, yet have a surprisingly superficial knowledge of the machinery of democracy or the rest of the world. Paradoxically, there is more quality news available than ever before, but it is often overwhelmed by the sheer volume of entertainment, con— sumer features, crime, and sensation.While this may rivet the attention of those who otherwise might not see or read much of anything, it has come at a price. Media scholar Thomas E. Patterson has argued that, the trend toward “infotain— ment” and news that is more critical in tone, born largely of the drive for profits, has actually contributed to a declining interest in the news.45 Indeed, “news” has become so conflated with opinion and other cultural commodities that a one—size—fits—all definition no longer applies.“Truth, fact and information seemed fairly straightforward concepts to most people in the news business a quarter century ago,” wrote Marc Fisher in The American journalism Review. “Today, they’re entirely up for grabs?“ Americans, fragmented across hundreds of outlets with varying standards and agendas, rarely come together around news events unless there is a crisis (such as September 11), a scandal (Monica Lewinsky), a sports spectacle (the Super Bowl) or a sensational trial (0.]. Simpson). Even the notion of who is a journalist is remarkably fluid, With many, especially the young, giving equal credence to Matt Drudge, who posts unverified items on his eponymous Web site; comedian Jon Stewart of The Daily Show; late—night talk show host Jay Leno; and NBC anchor Tom BrokawWhile some decry the dumbing down of news, and berate the audience for having grown less discriminating, others contend that editors and producers are only giving Americans what they want, and still others suggest that the blurring of rigid definitions of news rightly takes conventional journalists down .a peg and usefully broadens the ways that knowledge of contemporary affairs is distributed. This market model of journalism, ascendant in the twentieth century, has taken on new meaning because of the Internet.While only a fraction of the ten thousandWeb sites that are reportedly created each day can be considered“news” sites, the Internet has greatly expanded the number of places one can go to get news; it has made news available instantaneously and around the clock; and it has effectively dismantled the barrier between journalist and reader. Now anyone with a computer and a modem can be a “publisher,” an argument that the FCC chairman Michael Powell has repeatedly invoked to make his case that govern- ment regulations constraining further media consolidation should be further relaxed.Whether such “publishers” are journalists, however, is a matter of con— tention. Most “bloggers”—authors of Web logs or creators of online journals— 4o CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective concede (and occasionally crow) that they don’t adhere to the prevailing stan— dards of the profession, including accuracy, verification, balance, and fairness. But that doesn’t mean that what bloggers produce doesn’t sometimes look like news. It was bloggers who in December 2002 took note of a brief item on ABC News’s Web site about Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott’s racist remarks at a one—hun— dredth birthday party for South Carolina senator StromThurmond and sent out— raged posts racing around the Web.The items caught the attention of the main— stream media, which belatedly turned its full wattage on a story that until then they had largely ignoredWithin two weeks Lott resigned as majority leader.”'7 In this case, the bloggers’ function bridged that of a journalist (several of the key bloggers in this case were well—connected former magazine journalists) and that of a concerned citizen calling up the hometown paper to complain that a local scandal had been overlooked.As the press critic Jay Rosen put it on his own blog, PressThink: “Reactions and rumblings from across the blogs were . . . a kind of proxy for public reaction that had not been able to emerge.”48 Historically, the press had mobilized citizens; now, it was citizens who mobilized the press. Bloggers are hardly alone in their rejection of reportorial conventions.With the explosion of cable channels, Internet Web sites, and radio talk shows has come a kind of cafeteria—style approach to news consumption. Readers, Viewers, and listeners now have access to a wide array of news—oriented programming and commentary, much of it sharply partisan, from FOX News and radio talk show host Rush Limbaugh on the right to comedian Al Franken and Air America on the left.]ust as the economic need to appeal to a broad audience in the nineteenth century encouraged the press to gradually wring political invec— tive from the news, so the economic appeal of niche audiences in the twenty— first century has prompted the press to restore it. While objectivity remains a dominant professional norm for journalists—a 1999 Pew Research Center sur— vey found that some 75 percent of reporters and news executives said it was pos— sible to obtain a true, accurate, and widely agreed upon account of an event—a significant number of Americans believe the media are biased.49 Surveys showing that moderates and liberals make up a disproportionate share of those in news— rooms only reinforce this View, although hard evidence that journalists push a left—wing agenda is hard to come by. As Brent Cunningham noted in the Columbia Journalism Review, “Mostly . . . we are biased in favor of getting the story, regardless of whose ox is gored.”50 Indignant about charges of liberal bias—the columnist Geneva Overholser, a professor at the University of Missouri school of journalism, calls them “largely hooey, and dangerous hooey at that”51—some journalists have begun to push back. In a May 2004 speech at the University of Oregon journalism school, the Los Angeles Times editorjohn Carroll denounced the “cold cynicism” of what he called “pseudo—journalism”—outlets such as The O’Reilly Factor that take on the trappings of newsrooms but whose chief aim is to manipulate the audience. “We 41 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective live in changed times,” Carroll said. “Never has falsehood in America had such a large megaphone.”52 Citizens, however, continue to gravitate in large numbers to programs that express views with which they agree. More than half of those who regularly watch FOX News, for example, describe themselves as politically con- servative, and the audience for Rush Limbaugh’s radio show is overwhelmingly so. CNN, which more closely mirrors the general population ideologically, nev— ertheless has more Democrat—leaning viewers in 2004 than it did in the past.“ As the columnist John Leo observed,“Now we can all go to aTV channel, a radio show or a web site that will protect us from those aliens across the moat who dis— agree with us.”54 Fewer Americans appeared to value the media’s role as surro— gates for the public or its function as a filter through which inaccuracy, imbalance, and unfairness are sifted out. President George W Bush claimed that he rarely reads newspapers, prefer— ring to “go over the head of the filter and speak directly to the American peo— ple.” Like Nixon, Bush views the press, in the words of the media critic Ken Auletta, as “special pleaders—pleaders for more access and better headlines—as if the press were simply another interest group.”55 Many Americans no doubt would agree.Yet at the same time, the government, after effectively hampering journalists from covering the first Gulf War and the war in Afghanistan, insti- tuted a policy of “embedding” some six hundred reporters with the troops dur— ing the 2003 war with Iraq—the first time sinceVietnam that the press traveled side by side with the military during combat. In the atmosphere of heightened patriotism after September 11, news outlets were alternately castigated for their lack of skepticism about the purported reasons for invading Iraq, and criticized for their tough reporting on prison abuses and the messy aftermath of the war. With both national leadership and popular opinion deeply divided about the war, there was little the press could do to please everyone. The attacks on journalistic objectivity came at a time, ironically, when the people entering the field were better educated than ever. In 2002 nearly 90 per— cent of all journalists had at least a four—year bachelor’s degree, up from 58 per— cent in 1971.56 But that has not shielded the profession from ethical lapses that have only deepened the public’s distrust. Plagiarism, fabricated stories, and out- right lies have tainted news organizations as esteemed as the New York Times (whose reporter Jayson Blair repeatedly faked stories and plagiarized others’ work) and USA deay (where the foreign correspondent Jack Kelley concocted portions of stories and lifted quotes from competing publications). At both papers, top editors resigned as a result of the scandals; the Times also hired its first ombudsman, or “readers’ representative,” while other mainstream news organiza- tions updated their ethics policies and training practices. Today, journalism is in the midst of what the Project for Excellence in Journalism (PEJ) calls “an epochal transformation, as momentous probably as the invention of the telegraph or television.”57 Contradictions aboundThe journal— 42 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective ist’s role as the arbiter of information has diminished, yet the need to alert citi— zens to the misleading, the false, and the propagandistic has never been greater. Americans have more control over when and how they get their news, yet they know little about the normal processes and common pitfalls of new production. Media companies report record profits,yet with the advent of TIVO, a commer— cial—skipping technology, and shrinking audiences for traditional news outlets the advertising that has supported news since the late nineteenth century is under threat.While most Americans still turn to local, cable, and network televi‘ sion for their news, the percentage who say they read a daily paper has slipped from 58 percent in 1994 to 42 percent a decade later, and the majority of those readers are older—a red flare that has motivated several large urban papers to experiment with free youth—oriented tabloids.58 Meanwhile, the audience for online news is growing steadily, despite the lack of a clear economic model to sustain it. In short, what is the future of news? For that matter, what is the future of democracy? The only thing clear is that they are intertwined. “Journalism . . . is not becoming irrelevant,” declared the Project for Excellence in Journalism.“It is becoming more complex.”59 On that point, at least, there is consensus. Notes 1. For an ardent advocate of this view, see Stephens,A History of News. See also Richard Streckfuss,“News before Newspapers,”]ournalism and Mass Communication Quarterly 75 (1998): 84—97. 2. Charles E. Clark and CharlesWetherell,“The Measure of Maturity: The Pennsylvania Gazette, 1728-1765,” William and Mary Quarterly 3rd series, 46 (1989): 292. 3. Eric Foner, Tbm Paine and RevolutionaryAmerica (NewYork: Oxford University Press 1976), 83. On the growth of political pamphlets in the leading cities, see Gary Nash, “The Transformation of Urban Politics, 1700—1765,”]ournal ofAmerican History 60 ()1973): 616, 618.The best general history of the colonial press is Clark, The Public rints. 4. Jackson Turner Main, The Anty’ederalists: Critics of the Constitution, 1781—1788 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1961), 209, 250—51. 5. Pauline Maier, The Old Revolutionaries: Political Lives in theAge of Samuel Adams (New York: Knopf, 1980), 30. 6. Pennsylvania jurist Alexander Addison, as quoted in Richard Buel Jr., “Freedom of the Press in Revolutionary AmericazThe Evolution of Libertarianism, 1760—1820,” in The Press and theAmerican Revolution, edited by Bailyn and Hench, 85*86. 7. Thomas Jefferson, letter to John Norvell, June 11, 1807, in The Ly‘e and Selected Writings ofThomas]@ferson, edited by Adrienne Koch andWilliam Peden (NewYork: Modern Library, 1944), 581—82. 8. On the emergence of the penny press and on nineteenth—century U.S. newspaper history generally, see Schudson, Discovering the News. 9. Ritchie, Press Gallery, 60—63; Michael Schudson, The Good Citizen: A History of American Civic Ly‘e (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1999), 177—82; and 43 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32 33. 34. 35. 36. CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective Michael E. McGerr, The Decline ofPopular Politics: The American North, 1865—1928 (NewYork: Oxford University Press, 1986), 107—37. See Schudson, Discovering the News, and Michael Schudson,“The Objectivity Norm in American Journalism,” Journalism 2 (August 2001): 149—70. Figures from Alfred McClung Lee, The Daily Newspaper in America: The Evolution of a Social Instrument (NewYork: Macmillan, 1937), and Leonard, The Power of the Press. Stephens,A History of News, 209. Kenneth T.Jackson, ed., The Encyclopedia ofNew York City (New Haven, Conn.:Yale University Press, 1995), 813. Stephens, A History cf News, 203. George N. Gordon, The Communications Revolution:A History ofMass Media in the United States (NewYork: Hastings House, 1977), 192—93. Gordon, The Communications Revolution, 127—32; Folkerts and Teeter, Voices of a Nation, 387-93; and Stephens, A History chews, 276—78. Donna L. Halper, “Radio in 1934,” Original Old Time Radio WWW Pages, www.01d—time.com/halper/halper34.html. Michael Schudson, The Sociology cf News (NewYork: Norton, 2003), 82. Folkerts and Teeter, Voices of a Nation, 492. As quoted inWestbrook Pegler column, NewarkJournal-American, June 3, 1954. Folkerts andTeeter, Voices of a Nation, 480—83. Robert D. Leigh, ed., A Free and Responsible Press: A General Report on Mass Communication: Newspapers, Radio, Motion Pictures, Magazines, and Books by the Commission on Freedom of the Press (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1947), 37. As quoted in Reporting Vietnam:AmericanJournalism 1959-1969, vol. 1 (NewYork: Library ofAmerica, 1998), 581—82. As quoted in Schudson, The Power of News, 144. Ibid., 144. Ibid., 173. Entman research referenced in Baughman, The Republic of Mass Culture, 216. Baughman, The Republic of Mass Culture; sound bite research in Daniel C. Hallin, “Soundbite News: Television Coverage of Elections, 1968—1988,” Journal of Communication 42 (1992): 5—24. Baughman, The Republic of Mass Culture, 213. Ibid. As quoted in Michael Murrie, “Communication Technology and the Correspondent,” in Live from the Trenches: The Changing Role of the Television News Correspondent, edited byJoe S. Foote (Carbondale: University of Illinois Press, 1998), 97. . Johanna Neuman, Lights, Camera, War: Is Media Technology Driving International Politics? (NewYork: St. Martin’s, 1996), 3. Garrick Utley,“The Shrinking of Foreign News: From Broadcast to Narrowcast,” in Live from the Trenches, edited by Foote, 87. Ibid., 85. Baughman, The Republic ofMass Culture, 165. Folkerts andTeeter, Voices of a Nation, 542. 44 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective 37. Leonard Downie Jr. and Robert G. Kaiser, The News about the News: American Journalism in Peril (NewYork: Knopf, 2002), 118. 38. As quoted in Tifft andJones, The Trust, 471. 39. Ken Auletta, The Highwaymen: Warriors of the Information Superhighway (New York: Random House, 1997), 180. 40. Ibid.,260. 41. Dean Alger, Megamedia: How Giant Corporations Dominate Mass IMedia, Distort Competition, and Endanger Democracy (Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 1998), 109. 42. Brent Cunningham, “Two Brothers, Two Worlds,” Columbia journalism Review 40 (July/August 2001): 34—39. 43. Jacques Steinberg,“After the Peaks ofJournalism, Budget Realities,” NewYork Times, June 14, 2004. 44. Ken Auletta, “Big Bird Flies Right,” New Yorker, June 7, 2004, 42—48. 45, Thomas E. Patterson, “Doing Well and Doing Good: How Soft News and Critical Journalism Are Shrinking the News Audience and Weakening Democracy—And What News Outlets Can Do about It” (working paper,Joan Shorenstein Center on Press, Politics and Public Policy, Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass, 2000), available at http://www.ksg.harvard.edu/ presspol/Research_Publications/Reports/softnews.pdf. 46. Marc Fisher, “Metamorphosis,” American Journalism Review 24 (November 2002): 20. 47. Esther Scott,“‘Big Media’ Meets the ‘Bloggers’: Coverage ofTrent Lott’s Remarks at Strom Thurmond’s Birthday Party,” KSG Case Study C14—04—1731.0 (Cambridge, Mass.:John F. Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University, 2004). 48. Jay Rosen, “The Legend of Trent Lott and the Weblogs,” PressThink, March 15, 2004. 49. “Bottom—Line Pressures Now Hurting Coverage, Say Journalists,” survey report, May 23, 2004 (\X/ashington, D.C.: Pew Research Center for the People and the Press), available at http://pe0ple—press.org. 50. Brent Cunningham,“Re—Thinking Objectivity,” Columbia Journalism Review 42, no. 2 (July/August 2003): 24—32. 51. Geneva Overholser, “Liberal Media: Could the Charge Have Had Its Run?” Poynteronline, June 11, 2004, http://www.poynter.0rg/column.asp?id= 548caid= 66983. 52. John S. Carroll,“Pseudo—Journalists Betray the Public Trust,” LosAngeles Times, May 16, 2004; the article was adapted from his speech entitled “The Wolf in Reporter’s Clothinnghe Rise of Pseudo—Journalism in America,” delivered at the University of Oregon, May 6, 2004. 53. “News Audiences Increasingly Politicized,” survey report, June 8, 2004 (Washington, DC: Pew Research Center for the People and the Press), available at http://people—press.org. 54. John Leo,“Instead of Arguments,We Get Shouts 8c Insults,” (NY) Daily News, June 15,2004. 55. Ken Auletta, “Fortress Bush,” New Yorker, January 19, 2004. 45 CH 2: American Journalism in Historical Perspective 56. TheAmericanjournalist in the let Century (St. Petersburg, Fla: Poynter Institute, 2003), . http://www.knightfdn.org/publications/americanjournalist/aj_keyfindings.pdf. 57. Introduction to The State of the News Media 2004:An Annual Report on American journalism (Washington, DC: Project for Excellence in Journalism, 2004), http://www.stateofihenewsmedia.org. 58. “News Audiences Increasingly Politicized.” 59. The State of the News Media 2004: An Annual Report on American Journalism (Washington, DC: Project for Excellence in Journalism, 2004), http://www. stateofthenewsmediaorg. Bibliography Bailyn, Bernard, andJohn B. Hench, eds. The Press and theAmerican Revolution. Worcester, Mass.:American Antiquarian Society, 1980. Excellent collection on that crucial era. Baughman,James L. The Republic of Mass Culture: journalism, Filmmaking, and Broadcasting in America since 1941. 2nd ed. BaltimorezJohns Hopkins University Press, 1997.An astute and approachable study of the recent era. Clark, Charles E. The Public Prints:The Newspaper in Anglo-American Culture, 1665—1740. New York: Oxford University Press, 1994. The best overall account of colonial newspapers. Emery, Michael, Edwin Emery, and Nancy L. Roberts. The Press and America: An Interpretive History ofthe Mass Media. 9th ed. BostonzAllyn and Bacon, 2000.Along with Folkerts and Teeter, a useful textbook on American journalism history. Folkerts,Jean, and Dwight L.TeeterJr. Vbices of a Nation:A History of Media in the United States. NewYork: Macmillan, 1989. Graham, Katharine. Personal History. NewYork: Knopf, 1997. Personal account by long— time publisher of the Washington Post. Greenfield, Meg. Washington. NewYork: Public Affairs, 2001. Illuminating memoir by a journalist who served as editor of the Washington Post’s editorial page. Leonard,Thomas C. The Power of the Press:The Birth of American Political Reporting. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986. Nasaw, David. The Chief: The Life of William Randolph Hearst. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2000. Nord, David Paul. Communities of]ournalisrn:A History ofAmerican Newspapers and Their Readers. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2001. Ritchie, Donald A. Press Gallery: Congress and the Washington Correspondents. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1991. Particularly illuminating on the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Schudson, Michael. Discovering the News:A Social History of American Newspapers. New York: Basic Books, 1978.With Stephens, a useful general work on the history of US journalism. Schudson, Michael. The Power of News. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1995. Stephens, Mitchell. A History of News: From the Drum to the Satellite. NewYorsziking, 1988. 46 CH 2: AmericanJournalism in Historical Perspective Tifft, Susan E., and Alex S.Jones. The Patriarch:The Rise and Fall ofthe Bingham Dynasty. NewYork: Summit Books, 1991. Tifft, Susan E., and Alex S.Jones. The Trust:The Private and Powerful Family behind the New York Times. Boston: Little, Brown, 1999. 47 ...
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