Head Strong: As newspapers fight for life, a reminder of their vital role
3.15.09
By Michael Smerconish - Inquirer
Inquirer Currents Columnist
If former State Sen. Vincent J. Fumo heads to jail, many will appropriately applaud former U.S. Attorney Patrick Meehan, Assistant U.S. Attorneys Robert Zauzmer and John Pease, and their colleagues for the dogged prosecution of public corruption.
But they had help from individuals whose role is increasingly taken for granted as the industry that employs them fights for its life.
I'm thinking of Inquirer reporters Mario Cattabiani, Miriam Hill, Craig McCoy, and their coworkers. Because without their investigative reporting, the fate of one of the most powerful politicians in Harrisburg might still be in his own hands.
The 267-page federal indictment spells out how the feds began. Agents from the FBI and IRS started investigating Fumo and Citizens' Alliance for Better Neighborhoods, the nonprofit he controlled, in 2003. Between February and May of that year, the indictment says, more than 20 grand jury subpoenas were issued to acquire financial records related to the charity.
Meanwhile, according to the indictment, "aspects of the matters under investigation came to broad public attention through a series of front-page articles in the Philadelphia Inquirer, which commenced on Sunday, Nov. 16, 2003." Citizens' Alliance, The Inquirer reported, was the recipient of $17 million worth of anonymous donations between 1999 and 2002. A month later, Dec. 20, the paper identified Peco Energy Co. as that donor. The same article revealed that the Delaware River Port Authority had also given $10 million in previously undisclosed donations to Citizens' Alliance.
The Inquirer reported that both donations were the result of secret arrangements made with Fumo. This public airing of his conduct spurred federal investigators to look deeper into the senator's relationship with the nonprofit organization. When The Inquirer reported that investigation Jan. 25, 2004, the coverage prompted Fumo to intensify an ongoing e-mail and Internet security effort.
On that day, a Fumo staffer sent this e-mail to a colleague: "The FBI probe into the Senator has really set him off; he wants us to do a number of security checks starting tomorrow."
Later, in June 2004, Fumo ordered staffers to erase all electronic messages bearing his name - those received from and sent to him, as well as ones on which he was carbon copied - according to an aide's e-mail recovered during the investigation. "Boss is driving us ALL nuts with this FBI madness," read another electronic missive.
In other words, Inquirer reportage not only illuminated Fumo's role with the Citizens' Alliance and therein aided the federal investigation, but it also tipped him off to the FBI probe, causing him to accelerate his efforts to obscure potentially damaging e-mail evidence. Hence, the obstruction-of-justice charges.
It's a terrific local example of what is at stake for the public as newspapers across the country fight for their lives. The survival of the historic watchdog role of the Fourth Estate is on the line.
News that the McClatchy Co., the third-largest publisher in the United States, announced plans to cut 1,600 jobs - 15 percent of its workforce - is not just another tale of economic woe. Nor is the fact that Time magazine identified "The Top 10 Most Endangered Newspapers in America" on its Web site this week. Meanwhile, the Hearst Corp. is considering turning the Seattle Post-Intelligencer into a strictly online product. Colorado's Rocky Mountain News recently shut down after owner E.W. Scripps Co. couldn't find a suitable buyer.
Each of these struggles represents the potential closure of overseers that no blogger can replace. We live in a world of ever-increasing modalities to deliver news gathered by fewer and fewer real reporters.
Fumo's prosecution wasn't aided by the Internet, a Web site, an iPhone, a Mac, a talk radio show, or cable television program. He was pursued the old-fashioned way - by reporters playing the role of public gumshoe. And the fewer of those who are serving as society's eyes and ears, the worse off we all will be. Especially in cities like Philadelphia, where the minority party is little more than an afterthought. Here, reporters wield the last real sense of oversight over entrenched Democrats.
Imagine if the New York Times' James Risen was forced to accept a buyout before he uncovered the NSA surveillance programs. Or if the Washington Post shuttered Woodward and Bernstein's jobs before they ever spoke to Deep Throat.
Patrick Meehan told me last week: "Investigative journalism has a vital role to play as a check against abuse of office. Because of the power Vince Fumo amassed and the way he exercised that power, there were few who were willing to ask tough questions or were persistent enough to stay on the case."
Meehan's words reminded me of a classic political slogan developed by Philadelphia adman Elliott Curson. Curson once had buses plastered with words that today would be perfect to describe newspapers:
"We need these guys to watch those guys."
Contact Michael Smerconish via www.mastalk.com.