W ORD OF THE BETRAYAL SPREAD QUICKLY.

Boston Globe reporters gasped when they heard the news. Patricia Smith, a Globe columnist revered for her elegant prose and powerful stories about poverty, racism and hate, had been forced to resign. A Pulitzer Prize finalist, Smith got caught breaking the cardinal rule in journalism. She lied to her readers. She made up quotes and people in many of her columns.

The news stunned Smith's colleagues, particularly Rebecca Mahoney '99, a University of New Hampshire journalism student interning at the Globe.

"It was like someone had died," Mahoney says. "The reporters all talked about it like someone had been in a car accident or something. To see one of your own betray one of the most basic rules in journalism was tough."

Before the summer and her Globe internship were over, Mahoney got another lesson in journalism ethics. In August, a month after Smith quit, the Globe asked for the resignation of Mike Barnicle, a popular columnist who championed the working class, accusing him of writing fiction instead of fact. "After Barnicle, there was a horrible sense of humiliation," Mahoney says. "We're supposed to seek truth and report it. How are we supposed to explain this to anyone?"

The media's credibility slipped even further as its other misdeeds made headlines throughout the summer. Cable News Network and its corporate partner, Time magazine, retracted a story that had accused the U.S. military of killing American Vietnam War deserters with nerve gas, admitting the expose was based on flimsy sources. The New Republic, a Washington-based political magazine, confessed that one of its star reporters, Stephen Glass, had made up 27 of his 41 stories and created fictional documents and Web sites to buttress his lies. The Cincinnati Enquirer agreed to pay $10 million to Chiquita Brands International after learning that an overzealous reporter had broken into Chiquita's voice-mail system and eavesdropped on thousands of private phone messages. And the media fed on the story of President Bill Clinton's affair like frenzied fish, racing to report the titillating details long after the public had registered its disgust with the whole sordid mess.

One veteran Florida columnist, writing about the media's unethical behavior, noted: "When the news becomes the news, the news is in trouble."

Journalists hadn't suffered such a blow to their credibility since 1981, when Washington Post reporter Janet Cooke won and later lost a Pulitzer Prize for her phony story about a nine-year-old heroin addict named Jimmy.

In newsrooms big and small, editors and reporters were asking themselves: Was the summer of 1998 just a fluke, or was unethical behavior and sloppy, sensationalist reporting epidemic? Would newspaper readers and television viewers harbor even more cynicism and revulsion toward the press? Would the media scandals drive students away from journalism careers?

The Golden Age was Yellow

Historically, the relationship between the public and the press has always been tenuous. Since the early days of newspapers, journalists have twisted the truth and tested their readers' loyalty. Hoaxes about monsters, natural disasters and petrified men routinely made headlines in the 1800s.

Toward the 1900s, newspaper magnates William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer gave birth to yellow journalism, unabashedly plying their biases and political views on the front page. Scandalous, sensational headlines screamed from the banners of Hearst's New York Morning Journal and Pulitzer's New York World. The two publishers even promoted the Spanish-American War with outrageous stories designed to sell more newspapers.

Today, a century later, the public trusts the press about as much as they trust used car salesmen. And recent polls suggest that journalists may be losing ground. A survey completed last October found that 88 percent of the 1,016 adults questioned believed reporters often or sometimes use unethical or illegal tactics to get a story. Two-thirds thought journalists make up stories, and another 85 percent felt that stories in the media often contain factual errors. Fifty-four percent of those surveyed said the media is too sensational and biased and hinders the country from resolving its problems.

The words "freak show" come to mind when UNH communications professor Joshua Meyrowitz thinks of today's media. Journalists, he says, are like carnival workers, begging readers and viewers to step inside the tent to glimpse the bizarre and unbelievable.

"Have you ever been to the Rochester Fair?" he asks. "People stick nails up their noses. There are belly dancers and freak shows. Today, you flick through the television stations and it's like going to the fair. 'Come watch the fat lady sing. Listen to Monica Lewinsky talk to Linda Tripp.' This isn't information. It's a spectacle."

Meyrowitz blames the freak-show mentality on corporate takeovers of small family newspapers and television stations. "We've gone from 50 media companies to fewer than 20 owning most of the media in the United States," he says. "You're seeing a shift away from news as a public service to the news being a way to make as much money as possible."

As the number of cable television stations and online news sites grows, Meyrowitz says the media must fight for a dwindling audience, creating even more pressure to draw customers with sensational, eye-popping news. News that informs, educates and prompts community activism is dwarfed by news that entertains or thrills.

A Profession Under Pressure

Alumni journalists working at newspapers and television stations up and down the East Coast have their own opinions about their profession.

"We're in this brave new world, this new territory of news versus entertainment," says Kathryn Cross '92, a producer with ABC's "Nightline." While "Nightline" producers still debate about responsible reporting, Cross knows plenty of journalists working for prime-time news shows who are caught in the battle for ratings and advertising dollars.

"These shows have intense pressures," Cross says. "Journalists are being asked to do a lot with fewer resources and less time. Whenever you're in that kind of environment you're going to find transgressions."

Journalists in the print media face similar pressures, according to Dennis Cauchon '81, who covers national stories for USA Today. He's reported on the O.J. Simpson trial and the Whitewater investigation, competing with Time, Newsweek, The New York Times and the tabloids. He routinely encounters reporters under pressure from their editors to get the next big scoop.

While reporting on the two Virginian girls who were switched at birth, Cauchon learned that a few journalists lied about who they were to get interviews or photographs from the families involved. He says, "The more pressure there is to get exclusives, the more people are going to be dishonest."

The pressures, in Cauchon's opinion, have also led to excessive use of unnamed sources in the media. "I read a lot of anonymous quotes in newspapers and magazines and I doubt that many of these sources exist," he says. "When you're in this business you know how sausage is made, and when you read quotes that sound too good to be true, it makes you skeptical."

When another journalist clinches a big story first, few competitors want to be left behind. This can lead to a "pack mentality"—a willingness to accept what's written or broadcast as fact before independently verifying the information—a trend that Natalie Jacobson '65, news anchor for Boston's Channel 5, sees as the most troubling in the media. "The media tends to feed on itself sometimes and it's frightening," Jacobson says. "This kind of sloppy journalism can hurt people, and misinform and mislead the viewers."

Jacobson was irked recently by a Boston tabloid that published a story full of innuendoes about a woman who dropped a resume at a prominent politician's home at 10:30 p.m., while his wife was out of town. After the story appeared, a Boston columnist also wrote about the incident without bothering to do his own reporting.

"That just frosted me," Jacobson says. "The columnist took the story as fact and repeated it and others have repeated the story since. Well, that's a very serious allegation to make about a public person without any corroboration." Trafficking in gossip and innuendo only does further harm to the media's reputation, according to Jacobson.

Building Public Trust

The media's diminishing credibility also disturbs Sports Illustrated reporter Jackie MacMullan '82. After the incidents at the Globe, MacMullan's friends assumed all journalists toyed with the facts. "Have you ever made things up?" her friends wanted to know. MacMullan, a former Globe sportswriter, answered their question with one of her own. "Have you ever embezzled funds?"

"They get offended and I say, 'Well, now you know how I feel,' " MacMullan says. "I don't want people to have the impression everyone makes stuff up in journalism because it's a false impression." MacMullan covers professional basketball for SI, a beat that hardly lends itself to hoaxes, she says. "My job is a little immune to it," she explains. "I can't make up Michael Jordan."

During her 13 years on the Globe sports staff, there were several stories that MacMullan heard about but could never pin down. One concerned Boston Celtics star Reggie Lewis, who allegedly had a serious drug problem that, according to sources, may have led to his fatal heart attack. Before MacMullan and other Globe writers could confirm the rumors, the Wall Street Journal broke the story. "If we weren't 100 percent sure, we didn't run it," she says. "You've got to get it right, not first. There's nothing worse on this Earth than being wrong if you're a journalist."

Editor of the Waterbury (Conn.) Republican-American John Kellogg '70 believes the recent cases of shoddy journalism resulted more from poor editing and reporting than unethical behavior. Facts weren't doubled-checked. Editors didn't challenge outrageous stories or columns.

"There's always a temptation when you get a really good story to just let it run without checking the facts," says Kellogg. "But you just can't take the risk. The media is already held in very low regard by the public and if they lose faith in our ability to deliver them the facts correctly and accurately, then we're out of business."

To minimize the chance of publishing hoaxes, Kellogg often tells his reporters and editors to "X-ray the dog." The metaphor grew out of a tale that turned out to be too good to be true.

Years ago, a reporter for a Rhode Island newspaper told his editor about a lost dog that supposedly traveled half-way across the country to be reunited with its family. The editor asked the reporter if he was sure it was the same dog. All the reporter knew is what the family claimed, that the dog, which once had a broken leg, had returned. "Have the dog X-rayed," the editor said. The result? No sign of broken bones, and the story of the "miraculous" reunion never made it into print.

As publisher of the Eagle-Tribune, a family-owned newspaper based in North Andover, Mass., Chip Rogers '83 feels that if one of his reporters had lied to his readers, the backlash would have been severe. "Had we experienced what the Globe did, it would have taken us a lot longer to recover," says Rogers, who studied business and political science at UNH. "We're much closer to the communities we serve than a large metropolitan paper. If we had violated the community's trust, I think we'd have a long, long road back."

Rogers' family has owned the Tribune for close to 110 years. He remembers watching his grandfather sit at the kitchen table with a red pen carefully scanning the newspaper for mistakes. "My grandfather and father always felt that local ownership of a newspaper made a huge difference," he says. "They felt a responsibility and a commitment to the towns we served."

Today, Rogers carries on that tradition. When mistakes are printed in the paper, the community often blames him. And Rogers can't help but feel responsible. "We're writing about people that are my neighbors, about the school that my kids go to," he says. "It all becomes very personal."

At Channel 5 since its inception in 1972, Natalie Jacobson has earned a reputation as one of the area's most respected news anchors. Although her audience is somewhat larger than Rogers' community, she agrees that nothing is more important than credibility. "It's critical," she points out. "When you lose the trust of your viewers, it's lost forever."

Beware of Rose-Colored Glasses

Will the 1990s mark one of the bleakest periods for American journalists? Will today's press coverage be remembered as the modern-day equivalent of yellow journalism? Journalist Don Murray '48 doesn't think so.

"The standards are much higher in journalism today than they've ever been," says Murray, who won a Pulitzer Prize in 1954 while writing editorials on the military for the Boston Herald. Honesty and fairness weren't often discussed in newsrooms a half-century ago when Murray walked the streets of Boston looking for stories. Newspapers routinely cleaned up quotes of politicians and ballplayers. Stories about the Roman Catholic Church, the black community and abortion were taboo. "The press wasn't so wonderful then," he recalls.

Murray remembers that it was common for reporters to accept gifts from their sources. They also covered local politicians and sports teams during the day and then worked for these same people at night, writing speeches or press releases. Newspaper bosses encouraged these unethical partnerships, Murray asserts, because then they didn't have to pay the reporters much money. "A lot of these reporters were bought," says Murray, who eventually left newspapers to teach journalism at UNH.

The scarcity of television news in the 1940s also meant print journalists could be selective about what they chose to write about. When reporters covered ball games at Fenway, they ignored the alcoholism that sometimes plagued the team. "We had baseball managers passing out on the bench from drinking, players that were obviously drunk," Murray says. "But nobody would mention these things."

Reporters also routinely rewrote politicians' speeches to make them more coherent. "I remember trying to read one of Eisenhower's speeches," Murray says. "Everyone was rewriting it so you could make sense of it."

Today, the public often criticizes the press for delving too deeply into the personal lives of politicians and sports stars. But Murray believes it's better to cover the story than to ignore it. "The aggressiveness of television and radio has made it so the press can't hide things," he says. "There's no ideal world, but I don't harken back to the good old days when there were a lot of cliches and stories that newspapers wouldn't touch."

The Next Generation

Though Murray believes ethics have improved, UNH journalism teachers say that their students have a different perspective. Jane Harrigan, director of the journalism program, worries that the recent media scandals may have poisoned her students' passion for journalism. Some of them have asked her: "Why should we be journalists? They're all slimeballs anyway.' " Harrigan has tried to convince her students that not all journalists are bad. "It's individuals making bad decisions," she tells them.

Harrigan encourages the students to work at the school newspaper, The New Hampshire, where they can train to become future journalists. In her classroom, she uses the recent examples of reckless journalism to emphasize the importance of credibility and accuracy. "We talk about standards and the enormous responsibility journalists have," Harrigan says. "They know that you don't make things up. Ever. No exceptions to the rule."

Like Harrigan, journalism professor Andrew Merton '67 talks to his students about how they can do good, serve as watchdogs, provoke change and hold a mirror up to what's wrong and right in their communities. He talks about his own reasons for choosing journalism in the 1960s, when reporters struggled to report the truth about Vietnam.

"Back then, journalists believed that just getting the information out would help change things for the better," Merton says. "The whole universe of communications has changed since then, but journalism still needs idealists, people who want to make the world a better place."

Merton and Harrigan's messages appear to have made an impression on some students. Students who have discussed and written essays in class about the media scandals say they've learned valuable lessons.

"It makes you want to do better," says journalism student Cathleen Genova '01. "I want to reclaim journalists' reputations. I want to do good and turn this around."

Rebecca Mahoney, the former Globe intern and current editor-in-chief of The New Hampshire, echoes Genova's enthusiasm. "Journalism is still the most amazing profession in the world," says Mahoney, who will graduate in May.

"Being a reporter is a gift. An honor."

Barbara Walsh, a reporter for The Portland Press Herald/ Maine Sunday Telegram, studied photojournalism at the University of New Hampshire. Walsh won the Pulitzer Prize in 1988 for a series in the Eagle-Tribune on the prison furlough system in Massachusetts.

A Journalist's Credo: Do No Harm

The stepdaughter of a prominent South Florida sheriff had killed herself. In her suicide note, she accused the sheriff of sexually abusing her.

If the story were true, it meant the county's top cop was guilty of committing one of society's most heinous crimes. I was given the unfortunate assignment of finding out if there was any truth to the young woman's accusation. My editor sent me to her biological father's home to talk to him. That same day, the woman was to be waked.

I drove to the father's home with an increasing feeling of nausea. I understood that we needed to pursue the story, but did I need to disturb the father as he prepared to say a final goodbye to his daughter?

Competition played a role in my editor's decision to send me that day. We didn't want other South Florida newspapers or television stations to beat us to the story. As I walked up the driveway to the family's home, I drew a deep breath.

A woman answered the door. She was the dead girl's stepmother.

I told her who I was and explained why I was there. The woman's face tightened and she spoke to me in a whisper. Her anger hit me like a cold wind.

"We're about to bury our daughter. What do you want?"

I knew there was nothing I could say that would convince her to talk to me. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. For a few long seconds, she stared at my face, as if she could not believe I was human. She closed the door and I walked away.

I've always wanted to write to her, explaining why I came to her home that day. To explain that as a journalist I needed to find out whether the man entrusted with upholding the law was himself a criminal. We never did find out whether the sheriff molested his stepdaughter, but I have not forgotten that woman's face.

When I think of journalism ethics, it is not about some newspaper policy that prohibits me from lying, stealing or breaking the law to get a story. For me, ethics are rooted in a personal code, similar to that of a doctor's: do no harm.

We don't need to unnecessarily hurt people to get a story. We can be compassionate while we do our jobs. Did I really need to be on that father's doorstep that day? I'm not so sure. Did we need to pursue that story? Yes. But was there another way to go after it? Probably.

I've never thought twice about hounding immoral or law-breaking politicians, judges or cops. It is our job to act as watchdogs for the community. But when the story concerns ordinary people who have a right to privacy, how far do we go before it becomes harassment?

I'm not sure. I only know that I've never lost sleep over stories about bad bureaucrats. But I can't seem to shake that woman's face or the hate in her eyes on that warm South Florida afternoon.

—B.W.

Return to UNH Magazine features