Bad news for reporters

On this Friday before the start of Sunshine Week, I thought it was interesting that two stories about reporters becoming the news surfaced this week.

This one is about a haughty sheriff who threatens small-town journalists with jail time for writing about his son's arrest.

And the one with video shows a women beating a TV personality.



I do like a good story, and strong-armed law enforcement makes for some great fiction. But it's scary when the powerful try to shut down the truth, something that is Constitutionally protected.

Fight scenes are great for the movies, but I hate to think one of my co-workers or I would be brutalized for doing our jobs.

Personally, I have only felt physically threatened twice. And they both happened to be at or near the office. Once a woman brought her scrappy teenage son to talk to me about a photo they didn't like. (I didn't take the picture.) The boy came ready to fight, apparently, and bowed up at me a few times. (The bowing was obvious because he flexed his biceps, made visible by the cut-off sleeves of his T-shirt. I'd say that was on purpose.) We didn't fight because I told them there was no reason to yell. They recently had lost a family member in a traffic accident and were understandably upset.

Another time a man grumbled to me that he had "no respect for paparazzi" as I asked him if his loved one, who was pregnant and involved in a car crash in downtown Shreveport, was OK. He angrily told me I had to leave, and I said I hoped she was OK. I still decided to stay close by on the publicly funded sidewalk. He stared but never charged. (I didn't clarify to him that a paparazzo usually photographs famous people.)

I'll be the first to say that I know reporters can make folks mad. Words are powerful, and people don't always like what we ask, say or publish -- even if they know it's true. But does that mean they have the right to physically threaten or act on such a threat?

I guess even a reporter needs a break sometimes

I really shouldn't have been surprised, because I almost always see someone I recognize or know on a flight into Shreveport. But being a professional reporter now can make that a bit different from running into an old friend who is happy to see you.

Heading back here Tuesday morning from a short layover in Atlanta, I was walking toward the steps to my Delta Connection puddle jumper when I noticed Shreveport Fire Chief Kelvin Cochran ahead of me. As we got closer in line I said hello and asked where he was coming from (which happened to be an International Association of Fire Chiefs meeting, of which he is the 2nd vice president), and we made a some small talk.

When I boarded the plane, much to my surprise (and maybe his annoyance?) I had to ask him to let me into his row so I could sit in seat 5A -- the window seat directly beside his. He had to have been thinking, "Why does this reporter have to sit with me?" And it really was my spot. I wasn't being sneaky.

Maybe I over analyze, but I was thinking, "Dang, I should come up with some really good questions to ask him." ("Good" might reads "pesky" when it comes to questions in journalism lingo.) I didn't have any specific future article in mind, I just felt like it was my duty.

But honestly, I was exhausted. I had an incredibly fun weekend, which meant little sleep, and I was going from my touchdown at Shreveport Regional to the office with little precious time between.

And I had a little sympathy for him. Yes, he's a public official, but I'm not sure I would not want to sit beside myself in the wee hours if it was possible for me to have an out-of-body experience. So I more-or-less told him he wasn't going to have to worry about getting grilled by a sleepy journalist. (Grilled is probably not the best idiom to use when talking about a firefighter, is it? Certainly no disrespect intended.)

Fortunately, he was extremely gracious in answering my few questions, though I certainly wouldn't say he was chatty on this particular occasion. I think we both probably needed a short nap during the ride. And I don't think I passed out on his shoulder or anything.