Thoughts and prayers

For more than 26 years, I worked in a newsroom – at the Poughkeepsie Journal. There was only one time when I felt truly unsafe in that environment. It was early in my newspaper career; in fact, I was still a student at Marist College working at the Journal part-time, a few nights per week. One night, my editor assigned me to cover a rather contentious meeting of high school ice hockey coaches, across the street from the Journal at the Mid-Hudson Civic Center. This was more than 30 years ago, so the particulars of the meeting are long since lost to memory. I do remember being on the receiving end of dagger-like glares from some coaches, who clearly didn’t want some punk reporter in their presence. Like any diligent young journalist I listened, dutifully filled up my reporter’s notebook, and then walked back to the newsroom to write my story.

One of those angry coaches decided to follow me up to the newsroom; side note: most newsrooms are wide open workplaces with little to no privacy, so the night staff that night witnessed this whole thing. I didn’t have my own desk at the time, of course, but this guy thought it would be prudent to look over my shoulder as I wrote the story in the middle of the mostly deserted newsroom -- again, except for the night editors. I felt a bit intimidated, as you could imagine. I decided to summon my sports editor, a brilliant but “out-there” kind of guy from whom I learned a lot early in my career. My editor, Lou, was an intimidating dude. He looked a bit like Donald Sutherland. He was pretty tall, like 6-foot-3, with big bug eyes. He wore cowboy boots, cowboy jeans, a leather vest and he chain-smoked unfiltered Camel cigarettes (remember, this is the mid-1980s … way before smoke-free workplaces). Lou strolled over slowly, his boots clicking on the tile floor, taking deep drags from his Camels. He asked the coach what he thought he was doing. “Just makin’ sure the kid gets the facts right in his story,’’ he said. Lou suggested that the coach best be on his way (that’s probably how he said it, Clint Eastwood style). The guy didn’t move. I didn’t move. Lou got closer, his smoky breath and bug eyes peering down on the guy, and emphatically told him to get out of the newsroom. We had no security guards back then, but the guy eventually did leave after that. Lou looked at me, emotionless, big bug eyes, and gave me my marching orders: “Colaizzo, 12 inches, by 11 o’clock.” With trembling hands, I wrote the story. And that was that. I don't recall any feedback from that story, which is good. In journalism, you only get called when you screw up. No one ever calls to say "hey man, you got it right, good job." Journalists and "the media," especially these days, are punching bags. Comes with the territory.

Newsrooms are not supposed to be unsafe workplaces, but like everything else in our society they very much can be, and last week in Annapolis, Maryland, a newsroom was shot up with casualties and injuries and well, you know the deal by now: Thoughts and prayers have been offered (and will be offered). How nice. Thoughts and prayers. These days, there is such a hostile attitude among many toward the “media” … but I’m certain no one would wish this on any newsroom anywhere. The suspect who most likely did this – the armed coward was found hiding under a desk in the building – had a long history of being pissed off at this particular newspaper. These days, it seems like everybody’s pissed off about something or at someone, always. Arm a pissed-off person and you get what we got in Annapolis. Or Vegas. Or San Bernadino. Or that church in Texas. Or Sandy Hook. You get the idea.

Memo to elected officials: Enough with the thoughts and prayers. Really. You all have the power to effect change. Do something. Thoughts and prayers sound nice and in fact they are nice. But they’re not all that effective when the smoke clears. Here’s my hope: I hope that we can all stop being so angry all the time – at each other, at each other’s “tribe,” at the media, at all of it. Let’s play nice every once in a while, OK? And maybe once in a while we can offer thoughts and prayers before we actually have to offer thoughts and prayers.