1. The St. Petersburg Times' selective coverage of Mayor Rick Baker
The race for mayor of St. Petersburg, as a bothersome formality, concluded on March 27, when Rick Baker scored a 57-43 percent drubbing of Kathleen Ford.
Actually, the only real vote that counted — that of the St. Petersburg Times — was cast in 1997, after Baker helped save the newspaper and the shadow government it leads from the embarrassing failure of the Florida International Museum. Baker's future was certain after that, as a close reading of Times' mentions of him reveals.
The Times had $1-million in pledges and loans riding on the museum's success. Even more devastating to the newspaper and its close-knit group of allies, however, would have been the horrifying prospect that they would not have had their way.
And, in St. Petersburg, the Times — ever eager to proclaim its own greatness and tout its awards — always gets its way. Since the taxpayers often pick up the tab for the Times' exercises in will — the museum and the Dome come to mind — all is wonderful for the journalist-aristocrats.
With Baker, the news bullies at the Times may have finally crossed the line, however. Owned by the Poynter Institute for Media Studies, which regards itself as journalism's holiest of holies, the Times itself is a study in manipulative election coverage.
Ultimately, the newspaper shamed itself by not revealing significant business ties to Baker. Moreover, either through shoddy homework or intentional deception, the Times never told voters of a scandal in Baker's family. The Times finally revealed the problems of Baker's kin only after being questioned by the Weekly Planet.
For this unparalleled undermining of democracy in local politics, the Weekly Planet has awarded the Times this year's not-at-all-coveted Tom McEwen Memorial Award for Sleazy Journalism — the "Tommie" — for 2001. The award is named after The Tampa Tribune's longtime sports writer Tom McEwen (see story on Page 20).
Baker served as the Florida International Museum's lawyer, and was a board member and later chairman. His big coup for the struggling facility was leading the charge for a $5.4-million taxpayer bailout. He also negotiated the deal that brought the Titanic exhibit to St. Petersburg in 1997. The Times rewarded Baker with fawning patronage and anointed him as political heir to the St. Pete throne, awaiting only the pre-ordained abdication of David Fischer.
A June 1998 article on Tampa Bay leaders lovingly effused that Baker, an obscure and charisma-challenged lawyer, was both an "up and comer" and a "mover and shaker." Other mentions of Baker in the last few years have been unwavering in their acclaim.
As the election drew near, the Times largely overlooked in any critical way that Baker was buying the vote, outspending Ford 3-1. Nor did the Times recoil as Baker deftly wielded race politics, playing to fears among African-Americans that Ford would ax police Chief Goliath Davis. Ironically, a month after the election, Baker announced the chief had decided to "retire;" the claim that this was Davis' decision is widely disbelieved among African Americans.
The "liberal" Times hardly blanched over the fact that Baker's campaign was firmly aligned with win-at-any-cost Bushites. Baker's key campaign strategist was national GOP fundraiser Adam Goodman, and the mayoral candidate's kickoff gala was headlined by Gov. Jeb Bush. Baker's first major action as mayor, the day after assuming office on April 2, was to scoot to Tallahassee to commune with Bush.
When it came time in March to run profiles of the candidates, often crucial for undecided voters, Ford's article was laced with corrosive criticism while Baker's was a paean of praise. (See sidebar.)
It goes without saying that the Times endorsed Baker, calling him "a leader in almost every endeavor." Generally, the newspaper affords candidates it doesn't favor a chance to respond. Not so with Ford. The newspaper was taking no chances. Two letters from Ford were not published by the Times.
All of that would have been, if not admirable, at least well within the parameters of business as usual for American newspapers. Loving and hating politicians, and using news and editorial columns to express those emotions, is a reality in the press, even though journalists get faint at the charge and claim they are one gazillion percent "objective" in their coverage.
To wit: Times Editor and President Paul Tash responded to an April 9 query from the Planet by harrumphing that his newspaper's "coverage of Mr. Baker was full, fair and vigorous during the campaign and will remain so now that he is mayor."
Here's what that "full, fair and vigorous" coverage missed.
Baker has had only one employer in his career as a lawyer, a St. Petersburg firm named Fisher & Sauls. It's not a large firm, but it has had some pretty impressive clients: the Times Publishing Co. and the Poynter Institute.
Baker was, until being elected mayor, the president of Fisher & Sauls. That, according to Florida Bar Association rules, would make Baker "the Times' attorney" or "Poynter's attorney," whether or not he actually worked on their accounts.
Recent editions of the Martindale-Hubbell Law Directory cite one or the other Times-related outfits as Fisher & Sauls clients. Mention in the Times' own archives show that Bill Ballard, a Fisher & Sauls partner, has represented the newspaper in such things as fighting attempts to tax coin boxes. Ballard, a powerful St. Pete lawyer, has long enjoyed a close relationship with the Times, although most of the legal work is now done by a firm headed by First Amendment specialist George Rahdert.
Tash, in an April 10 response to the Planet, said the Times no longer used Fisher & Sauls. However, Tash said he checked with Poynter and found that the institute had recently employed Fisher & Sauls. Tash added: "As you know, the Poynter Institute and the Times are independent from each other."
Not quite. Tash sits on Poynter's board. Poynter's president, Jim Naughton, sits on the Times board. There is other cross-management, including the fact that both entities are headed by the same man, Times Chairman Andrew Barnes. Under the newspaper's feudal management structure, Barnes is an unrestrained despot, and has sole authority for choosing his own successor.
Naughton, without being specific about Fisher & Sauls' work for Poynter, said it wasn't significant. "Hundreds of dollars, not thousands," he said. "We're hardly a major profit center for them."
However, some of the current work is very sensitive. The Planet uncovered an April 2000 covenant between Poynter and the Florida Department of Environmental Protection (DEP). The DEP document cites petroleum pollution on Poynter property, and restrains the institute from, among other things, drilling for water. Fisher & Sauls' Ballard signed one of the documents, an affidavit by Naughton. Times' archives contain no mention of the environmental issues on Poynter land.
On April 9, the Planet faxed its first letter to the Times' Tash. In addition to Fisher & Sauls' work for the Times, the Planet inquired about an even more serious issue.
A decade ago, Rick Baker's father and two brothers were convicted in a federal case of defrauding the U.S. military in the sale of aircraft turbine blades and other sensitive parts. Instead of using "virgin" alloy, the Baker family-controlled company, Aerodyne Investment Castings Inc., substituted scrap metal.
Baker's father, Russell K. Baker of Odessa, confessed to a minor offense, served a brief period of house arrest and paid a $75,000 fine. The brothers, Russell Jr. and Roger, were convicted of multiple counts, including mail fraud and money laundering, and each was jailed for more than a year. The scandal was widely reported in the media, including numerous stories in the Times.
On April 11, two days after the Planet's letter inquiring about Aerodyne was faxed to Tash, the Times for the first time reported Rick Baker's family had been involved in the scandal.
Rick Baker's name never came up during the Aerodyne trial, to be sure, but when the Times wants to find out about someone, the degree of effort seems to depend on whether the newspaper likes the person. For example, in the pre-election candidate profiles, the Times dug back in Ford's past to her high school days, looking for critics. Baker's history in the Times, by comparison, is little more than a recounting of his own resume; no deep probing is evident.
In the April 11 article, the Times stated that it didn't mention Aerodyne in Baker stories because it had learned of the issue only via e-mail the night before the March 27 election. That was "too late to verify and publish before the election," the article stated and then added a quote by Tash: "We don't want the newspaper to be used."
The Planet obtained a copy of the e-mail sent to the Times. It was dispatched to the newspaper's city desk at 9:29:07 a.m. on Saturday, March 24 — three days before the election. The Times refers to the author of the e-mail as "anonymous," but the Planet was able to identify and locate him. He confirmed the e-mail was sent Saturday morning.
That would have given the Times more than sufficient time to, as the e-mail suggested with great specificity: "Check your archives: Business Section, July 9, 1989. A story written by Marlene Sokol. Aerodyne Castings, a Tampa defense contractor, was accused and later found guilty of fraud against the government. Running that company was Russell K. Baker, Russell K Baker Jr. and Roger Baker — father and two brothers of Rick Baker."
In the April 11 Times article, Rick Baker denied any involvement with Aerodyne, other than working as a sandblaster for the company one summer, and later as a lawyer handling some minor real estate transactions.
The Times apparently did not investigate further or chose not to report what is easily found in the Florida Secretary of State's online database.
The Planet's search revealed that Baker did have an involvement with an apparently related company, North American Castparts Inc. Rick Baker and his law firm, Fisher & Sauls, are listed as the registered agent of North American. "Registered agent" is a post that may or may not signify substantial involvement with a company.
North American's president was Rick Baker's father, Russell. Listed among directors are Medard Cronin and David Janney — both are also listed on Aerodyne's corporate records. Cronin and Janney were not indicted with the members of the Baker family.
North American was an active company during the mid-1980s, when the illegal activities at Aerodyne occurred. Rick Baker resigned as registered agent in November 1986, before the indictments.
Tash did not respond to numerous follow-up inquiries, including an April 17 letter, as to what the Times knew about Baker and Aerodyne and when the newspaper knew it. After the Planet initially asked about Baker, the Times dispatched a reporter to Georgia to search through the federal government's records on Aerodyne.
The Times reporter who covered Baker and wrote the April 11 article, Bryan Gilmer, maintained that he first heard of the e-mail the evening before the election. Staffers inside the Times told the Planet that they believe Tash was truthful in the April 11 article, but that he had not been correctly informed by subeditors as to when the e-mail arrived.
It's common for politicians and their supporters to launch 11th-hour sneak attacks against opponents. Newspapers often are cautious in handling such matters unless there is a chance for the target of an attack to respond. However, the Planet has spoken with the originator of the e-mail regarding Baker, and he was not a Ford supporter or even a Pinellas resident. In any event, the history of Baker's family is not disputed — only unreported by the Times.
Times insiders also said that columnist Mary Jo Melone, who on April 12 wrote an article reflecting on the previous day's story, wanted to comment earlier and more harshly, but had been deterred by the newspaper's managers. Melone's column put all of the blame for Baker's mendacity by omission on the mayor. She leveled no rebuke at her newspaper for not digging into Baker's history. Melone did not respond to several detailed phone calls.
None of the Baker family could be contacted. Rick Baker responded to a request for an interview by having GOP political operative Goodman return a phone call. Goodman said he knew no details of the Aerodyne affair, nor did he know about Fisher & Sauls' work for the Times and Poynter.
Now the big questions are these: What's Rick Baker's administration going to do to spruce up the neighborhoods, including Bartlett Park, that surround the Poynter Institute? Or how many taxpayer dollars will Baker be willing to spend on a new stadium in order to keep the up-for-sale Devil Rays, which are marketing partners with the Times, from moving?
R.I.P. fair, full and vigorous reporting by the Times.
—John F. Sugg
2. What the newspapers didn't tell you about themselves
In mid-May, Hillsborough County subscribers to The Tampa Tribune will notice that bundled with the newspaper is the county's delinquent property tax list.
It's pretty thick, with more than 30,000 properties listed, and it's paid advertising — paid for by the government (you) to the tune of more than $60,000. Hillsborough County officials recoup the cost of the advertising from penalties levied on delinquent taxes. But, if that money didn't go to the Trib, it could be used for other purposes — perhaps contributing to lower taxes.
For most readers, the section is an instant throwaway, especially since it's almost totally incomprehensible. Delinquent properties are listed in a useless format, the order of folio numbers, not alphabetically by owners' names.
Of course, the section isn't really designed for the general public, but for the small industry of investors who purchase tax certificates, hoping to either collect a handsome commission from slow-pay property owners or to get titles to distressed real estate.
The reason the Tribune gets the advertising — which, by law, runs three times — falls under the category of corporate welfare. Newspapers in Florida know that politicians and bureaucrats hope to curry favor by spending advertising dollars — your money.
It doesn't stop with delinquent taxes. Although much government advertising is beneficial, much is superfluous. A few months ago, Trib pals on the county staff tried to slip through some no-bid — and no-real-reason-for-doing-it advertising — but were thwarted by some of the more independent commissioners. That …
NEWS FLASH, NEWS FLASH. This just in (but don't expect to read it in the Trib or see it on its sister WFLA-Ch. 8). Tribune home delivery daily circulation in Hillsborough has plunged to 90,756, an 8 percent drop from 98,975 home-delivered papers last year. Those numbers were not disclosed by the Tribune, but were calculated by Weekly Planet from the semi-annual Audit Bureau of Circulation (ABC) reports.
Tribune Publisher Reid Ashe said, "The correct numbers are in our ABC reports, which speak for themselves." Ashe wouldn't cite what he feels are the correct numbers. The ABC reports are where the Planet obtained its information.
Three prospective advertisers, who provided information to the Planet, said that since April 11, they had been quoted daily home delivery figures in Hillsborough ranging from 103,000 to 150,000.
In the early 1990s, the Tribune counted as its "designated market" area only Hillsborough County. A decade ago, home delivery in the county was about 130,000. As the circulation plunge began, the Tribune began adding parts of Pasco County to its "designated market" in an effort to make it appear its circulation in its home territory was stable.
During the last decade, the number of households in Hillsborough has increased by 75,000. Thus, the "penetration" decline of Tribune home-delivered circulation has been much steeper than mere circulation loss — from about half the homes in the county a decade ago to about a quarter of the homes now.
… Back to delinquent tax roll advertising. One argument for the Tribune getting the county's ads is its broad circulation. But that argument obviously isn't true any longer.
The largest circulation publication in the county is The Flyer, which reaches more than 300,000 homes. (The Flyer's owner, Dick Mandt, is an investor in the Planet's parent company.)
About 120,000 homes in Hillsborough have Internet access — far more than get the Tribune.
Recognizing that the delinquent tax advertising serves little purpose, Hillsborough Tax Collector Doug Belden and his colleagues throughout the state would like to reduce the number of times they must place the advertisement; they'd actually like to scrap this pork-barrel giveaway to the newspapers. And the tax collectors favor using the Internet to provide the service. An online roll of delinquent taxes would be of much greater benefit to citizens — if for no other reason than the ability to do name searches.
"We could do a much better job, and a heck of a lot cheaper, if we could just put this stuff up on the Web," said Preston Trigg, an aide to Belden.
State Sen. Jim Sebesta (R-St. Petersburg) introduced a bill in the current legislative session to allow tax collectors to advertise the delinquent roll only once. The bill went nowhere. Why? The state's newspapers, which routinely denounce lobbyists and their poisonous effect on democracy, employ a few themselves. The newspapers just don't tell you about it.
One newspaper lobbyist, Guy Spearman, laughed when asked what the Tribune bosses had told him about the bill. "Publicly, the Tribune will say it's not a big issue," Spearman said. "But I've talked with them behind closed doors, and that's not what they told me."
Don't look for a story about Sebesta's bill in the Tribune or the St. Petersburg Times. It's not there. All the news that fits their financial schemes, they print.
A sampling of other unreported news about the newspapers:
… Just as newspapers are reluctant to tell you about how their lobbyists hammer state legislators, so too are they remiss in telling you about national media events. There has been little — some but not much — in the local dailies about the relentless efforts of the newspaper industry to muscle Congress and the Federal Communications Commission into dropping bans against newspapers and TV stations in the same cities having the same owners. The Tribune-WFLA cross-ownership is one of a handful of exceptions to the rule. The exceptions were originally allowed, provided that the news organizations remained independent of each other — a condition now flagrantly ignored. The fact that democracy may be the price of such media "convergence" is vociferously decried by press critics, but largely ignored by the newspapers and TV stations themselves. Behind the smiling chattering heads on Channel 8 waving copies of the Tribune are ham-fisted lobbyists using all their usual tools — threats and money — to erode a multi-voice free press.
… In March, the daily newspaper industry changed the way it counts "paid" circulation. In the future, papers can discount the price by 75 percent and still call it fully paid circulation. Previously, newspapers could reduce subscription prices by only 50 percent and declare their circulation "paid." The change was widely reported nationally — not a word in the Times or Tribune. Both paid and free circulation strategies have merit. But advertisers should be wary of newspapers claiming to be "paid" when, in fact, their price is discounted to an almost negligible sum. (The Weekly Planet's free circulation is monitored by the research journal Media Audits. It was 82,404 for our April 12 issue, an increase of 19.8 percent over the year before. For the past three months, weekly circulation increases have averaged 13.9 percent.)
… In September 1999, Tribune Executive Editor Gil Thelen was sorely dissed when the Times reported on employee morale-related death threats against executives at his newspaper. He wrote in a column that the Tribune's policy is not to write about threats. "Such stories," Thelen stated, "could encourage perpetrators by providing them the publicity they desire." Yet, when a rash of bomb threats recently plagued Hillsborough schools, the Tribune not only went tabloid in overboard reporting, but it broke ranks with most of the other local media and printed the names of the children involved in the incidents. Asked about this apparent conflict — wasn't the Tribune encouraging "perpetrators by providing publicity?" — Thelen claimed faulty memory and responded to the Planet that he wouldn't do "database research" to determine that he had written what his own newspaper had printed. (The Planet provided him with a copy of his remarks.) Nor would he respond to an inquiry by a "hostile competitor." Touchy, touchy. Getting personal doesn't answer the questions raised by responsible Tampa Bay area journalists, including many at the Tribune: Should we believe the words of Trib execs when they preach principles? Or should we believe actions when the newspaper easily abandons those proclaimed scruples in an attempt to shore up declining circulation — even if that means ruining the lives of scores of children?
… On April 15, the St. Petersburg Times ran a column by the former publisher of the San Jose Mercury-News, Jay Harris, that decried the wholesale decimation of many of the nation's newspapers by owners seeking unconscionable profit levels. Times readers might have been a little perplexed, never having read a word about the tumult and turmoil in the publishing industry. Around the nation, other papers have widely reported the dismal news about newspapers. Just not here. In February, buried at the bottom of a lengthy story on the area economy, the Times did note that it and the Tribune were implementing hiring freezes; however, details were absent and the reasons for financial problems were ascribed to external forces, such as newsprint prices, and certainly not to the publications' strategies or managers. The Tribune hasn't even reported that much. Harris, meanwhile, has become something of a media martyr. In context with other reporting on the industry, his column made sense. In a void of reporting on the media, it was awkward and out of place. So, why did the Times run it? Harris, in reviewing the nation's journals, called the Times a "quite good" newspaper. The moral of this story is that over in St. Pete, hundreds and hundreds of journalists losing jobs nationwide isn't news — unless the story somehow flatters the Times.
—John F. Sugg
3. PBS exposes secret documents of the chemical industry
It's probably not surprising — in an area where both daily newspapers spend many, many times more space covering sports and entertainment than critical social issues — that when some national breakthrough journalism catches America's attention, the local media are out to lunch.
On March 26, PBS carried a truly stunning story. Stunning because of the news itself. Stunning because PBS, long beholden to corporate largesse, was actually targeting big business. Stunning because the industry in the crosshairs, the chemical giants, pulled every trick and used its considerable muscle to discredit the show, reprising the smear of Rachel Carson 38 years ago when she exposed pesticides in her landmark book Silent Spring.
The PBS show, "Trade Secrets," was crafted by a revered statesman of journalism, Bill Moyers. Building a case from tens of thousands of the chemical industry's previously secret documents, Moyers' brutal assessment concluded that the companies had withheld information from the public and their own employees about lethal health dangers. Vinyl chloride, used in the production of PVC, has caused death, horrible illness and disfigurement to many of the chemical companies' employees, Moyers reported. And, he noted, despite widespread public belief that the government is a watchdog over deadly chemicals, the truth is that there is virtually no regulation and protection.
Just from the standpoint of providing the public with information needed to protect its health, Moyers' story should have been of vital interest to the media. Joe Thornton, a biologist at Columbia University and the author of Pandora's Poison: Chlorine, Health, and a New Environmental Strategy, commented: "Scientific evidence is mounting that hundreds of long-lived industrial chemicals can have profound effects at low doses and may be impairing the health of the general public. The great tragedy is that this situation is entirely unnecessary because safer substitutes exist now for virtually all the uses of persistent toxic substances. But the chemical industry has used its extraordinary influence to deny the hazards of its products and to establish a regulatory system that protects the industry more than it does public health and the environment."
Sounds like a newsworthy story to us.
The timing of Moyers' report was propitious. Citizens no longer are buying the scam that what's good for corporate America is good for them. The night before Moyers' broadcast, Julia Roberts had won an Oscar for her portrayal of an unlikely environmental heroine in Erin Brockovich. Americans applauded the message in the film. Moreover, in a poll published in September in Business Week, 72 percent responded that they felt "business has gained too much power over too many aspects of American life."
There were any number of possible angles responsible media could have explored stemming from "Trade Secrets." Around the nation, newspapers and wire services reported and commented extensively on the program. Many reports — especially those in the alternative media — were substantive, expanding on Moyers' disclosures. Other reports focused on the dispute between Moyers and the companies.
Some commentaries were bizarre. The New York Times argued (March 26, "Rendering a Guilty Verdict on Corporate America," by Neil Genzlinger) that to stand up to the chemical leviathans means we'd return to "cloth diapers and spotted apples," and that you can't have "democracy or more durable house paint … without a price." Whether the Times realized it or not, the price it urges us to accept is homicide to boost corporate profits. Still, at least the Times noticed Moyers.
There were compelling local, or, at least, regional arguments for following Moyers. Ground zero for his report was the South. As national media critic Norman Solomon told Weekly Planet, "Some of the documentary focused on horrific conditions at chemical production facilities near the Gulf of Mexico. So why would a paper anywhere near the Gulf choose to ignore this particular documentary?"
Why indeed? And what did we learn from the St. Petersburg Times and The Tampa Tribune? Absolutely nothing. Not a story, not even a mention by a TV critic of Moyers' expose. Silence. Vacuum. Black hole.
There's probably a good reason. Maybe it was a big day for sports news.
"For half a century the corporations manufacturing and using toxic chemicals have been waging a massive propaganda campaign of deceptive PR and lobbying to prevent effective regulation of their dangerous products," commented Sheldon Rampton and John Stauber, editors of the quarterly journal PR Watch.
That implies the flaks and lobbyists have to bludgeon, cajole or corrupt the media. Around Tampa Bay, the work for the chemical death merchants is much easier. The mainstream press just doesn't care.
For more on Bill Moyers' Trade Secrets, as well as links to get involved in fighting deadly chemical contamination of America, see the Weekly Planet's online archives at http://www.weeklyplanet.com/2001-04-12/news.html.
—John F. Sugg
4. What really goes on at MacDill Air Force Base
A crowd of military personnel and well-dressed civilian dignitaries queued up to pass a security checkpoint at the Tampa Convention Center last October. They were on hand to witness a Change of Command ceremony for MacDill Air Force Base's Special Operations Command. Secretary of State William Cohen and Army Gen. Henry Shelton, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, presided as the baton was passed from retiring Army Gen. Peter Schoomaker to Air Force Gen. Charles Holland.
One soldier, dressed in crisp military fatigues, casually pulled a saw-toothed commando knife from an ankle holster and dropped it on a table. He apparently had forgotten to remove it before the event.
It was a stark reminder that what goes on at MacDill is some pretty hot, high-level stuff. The base is the command post for Special Operations, which includes Navy SEALs, the Army's Green Berets and Rangers, and Air Force combat controllers and special operations pilots. Also headquartered at MacDill is Central Command, which oversees most of the Middle East. When the U.S. fires a few missiles at Iraq to enforce our embargo of the nation, the missions are run out of MacDill. When a downed U.S. pilot was rescued in Bosnia, the operation was coordinated at the Tampa base.
"Virtually everything that MacDill does is critical to the strategic operations of the U.S. military," says Mike Pheneger, former director of intelligence for Special Operations Command. "It's a very critical facility, in ways that people don't always understand."
But what of the more insidious activities at MacDill? With Middle East missions and Special Ops, can the more covert stuff be far away? Certain insider folk maintain that Tampa Bay is crawling with spies. MacDill is loaded with state-of-the-art intelligence and communications systems — and the highly trained personnel that go along with it.
Spooks? Subversion? Counterespionage? Psychological warfare? Would anyone be surprised if this sort of activity were being run out of Tampa? For instance, Special Operations is in charge of running the war on drugs in Colombia, which critics have reckoned could become the new Vietnam.
"Tampa's extraordinarily naive about our neighbors at MacDill," says Owen Whitman, a corporate intelligence professional. "The quiet little enclave is quite a hotbed. Any major command is going to have CIA attached to it. There are several levels of military intelligence types."
The local mainstream media apparently does not see MacDill as a source of juicy stories. The Tampa Tribune, which has a writer assigned to the military beat, resorts mostly to regurgitating press releases and relaying heroic stories about America's elite fighting men. The St. Petersburg Times covers MacDill far less, although it carried numerous stories about Super Bowl goings-on at the base.
Meanwhile, the media elsewhere aren't so blase about what goes on at MacDill. The Nation, for example, has disclosed that MacDill is a center for "privatizing" warfare — using companies, mostly formed by retired soldiers, to replace CIA and military covert actions in the Third World.
It would seem a bit more digging is in order.
—Eric Snider
5. State sanctions environmental damage at Port Manatee
In some of the clearest water in Tampa Bay, the Port of Manatee's ambitious plans to dynamite-and-dredge will lay waste to seagrass beds bordered by priceless aquatic preserves. A powerful triumvirate — Gov. Jeb Bush, the Florida Cabinet (which he heads) and the Department of Environmental Protection's top political leadership —pushed the project through to the final "permitting" stages. They cited the economic stimulus new berths and megacruise ships would bring.
Scientists — inside the department as well as in private-sector jobs — see environmental calamity. Yet outside of the Weekly Planet's reporting, daily newspapers in St. Petersburg, Tampa, Sarasota and Bradenton have paid scant attention to the damage to wetlands and shallows that this project will create. That damage includes laying waste to three kinds of seagrasses that support juvenile fish and shellfish as well as whelks, sponges and other sealife. Whether the seagrass transplant projects proposed in mitigation are buildable or bogus, that's just another glossed-over part of this story.
Most scandalous is the way few have charted how the environmental department's top political leadership bullied scientists into silence. Fearing for their jobs, those scientists are muzzled. You will hear few or no voices raised in protest of Port Manatee's 42-foot plunge into the estuary.
—Andrea Brunais
6. Tom McEwen's retirement from The Tribune
The Tampa Tribune had the perfect opportunity to do the right thing on Feb. 4. But the newspaper took the low road.
Tom McEwen for years had used his position as sports editor and columnist to shake down the people he writes about. In exchange for such services as lobbying for new stadiums, he was lavishly rewarded by teams that placed hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of business with a travel agency McEwen owns.
One previous publisher at the Tribune, Doyle Harvill, sought to oust McEwen, certainly the worst offense to journalism ethics in the nation. But McEwen, who is tight with the Trib's corporate bosses at Virginia-based Media General, survived.
Finally, the sports writer became too much of an embarrassment, even for Media General, which often has demonstrated that it has only a passing acquaintanceship with ethics. In November 1999, the national trade journal Editor & Publisher detailed McEwen's smarminess, basing its report on articles in the Weekly Planet dating back to 1995. Basically, the Trib's bosses were OK with McEwen fleecing Tampa citizens and never reporting it. But the newspaper's honchos couldn't abide their peers throughout the nation reading about the Trib's ethical gangrene. Hey, imagine you're the Trib's publisher or editor sipping Merlot at a newspaper convention, and you're constantly being barraged with questions about McEwen. That just wouldn't do.
Included in Editor & Publisher's report was a tidbit that McEwen had actually lied to the new top managers at the Tribune about whether he continued to do business with the Tampa Bay Lightning. In the mid-1990s, McEwen had helped cover up the fact that the hockey team's previous owners were a pack of deadbeats and liars who had cooked their books in order to win taxpayer financing for the Ice Palace. As a token of the team's gratitude, McEwen's travel agency scored a big goal by capturing the Lightning business.
So, it was decided McEwen finally had to exit. The event was scheduled for Feb. 4, the Sunday after the Super Bowl. McEwen doggedly fought retirement. He and his cronies bleated in protest. To no avail.
The Tribune could have taken the opportunity to finally disclose the whole story about McEwen, to reveal that McEwen's columns had been paid advertising. Readers should have been told that public policy had been influenced — corrupted — by McEwen's pandering to the team owners. And he, in exchange for selling the integrity of the Tribune, became a rich man.
Instead, the newspaper continued promoting the outrageous fib that all that was wrong with McEwen's behavior was the "when" not the "what." "It was a different time. Rules changed," Trib Managing Editor Donna Reed told the American Journalism Review in March.
The Trib, in a Feb. 4 memorial section, oozed nostalgic nonsense for McEwen. The truth was alternately raped and ignored in the section and in the companion farewell column by McEwen.
Whatever McEwen might have done in the Dark Ages, his worst offenses were in the here and now. As first disclosed by the Planet, his travel agency was bequeathed to him in the mid-1980s by George Steinbrenner (McEwen, of course, tenaciously fought for the Yankees owner's Legends Field). The shilling for the Lightning and the Buccaneers peaked in the mid-1990s. Moreover, the idea that in the "old days," sports writers were as corrupt as McEwen is not only false but an insult to journalism. What McEwen was up to was never acceptable to ethical newspapers. Not ever. No way. No how.
McEwen will be remembered. The street just south of Malcolm Glazer's stadium has been named for him, as has the press box at the Ice Palace.
And the Weekly Planet has done its part. Last year we created the Tom McEwen Award for Sleazy Journalism — a.k.a., the Tommies. McEwen was, of course, the first dishonoree. In each year's Most Censored issue — what you're reading now — we'll name that year's Tommie winner.
For the complete story on Tom McEwen, see http://weeklyplanet.com/archives/021401/ news_2.html
—John F. Sugg
This article appears in May 3-9, 2001.