I hit the ground both running and writing

Well, hey there.

It’s been a little over two months since I’ve posted anything. No, I didn’t forget or give up writing about my adventures in journalism. Quite the contrary; a brief hiatus from blogging just organically enveloped me as the hectic semester drew to a close, and I graciously accepted. Not forgetting, mind you, but realizing that if a blog is to keep its sense of interest and fun for both the reader and the writer, it cannot (should not) become a chore for either. 

Which brings us back to now, the first week of classes over of an entirely new year. So a belated happy holidays and happy new year to you all.

The end of last semester I was promoted to News Editor of the Massachusetts Daily Collegian.

The day of Jan. 21,  the day before classes were set to begin and our semiannual Back-to-School issue was in the works to be published, I got a call from an unknown number on my cell phone in the middle of brushing my teeth. Debating for a split second if I should ignore the call, I quickly spat out the toothpaste in my mouth, swallowing the rest, and answered my phone.

I’m glad I did.

The caller was a junior journalism student (not yet a writer for the Collegian) and she was calling to let me know of a huge fire that had happened at Rolling Green Apartments on Belchertown Road in Amherst where she lived, and did I know about that?

No, I did not, I told her, and we worked something out for her to do her very first reporting for the Collegian on the ground, interviewing students who lost everything to Red Cross volunteers.

And did I know yet that this fire would turn out to be fatal?

No, not just yet.

After I more fully completed the task of brushing my teeth, it was straight off to UMass’ campus center basement, home of Collegian headquarters. The rest of the day and most of the night was spent working on the story of the who’s, what’s, where’s, when’s, why’s and just how did this tragic fire come to be, and how was it that one student lost his life in it?

 

Some of the units damaged in the fire. Photo by Evan Sahagian/ Collegian

 

Slowly, details trickled in throughout the week, sneaking in between new class schedules and a new maze of campus construction.

Not so slowly, I realized that one of my first duties as news editor was to write the fire victim Jake Hoffman‘s obituary.

As I am still working on it, I will add the link when it is published. It is a huge responsibility, and I can only hope to honor Jake’s memory and make his friends and family, as well as the UMass community, proud to have been able to take part in his time here.

And as for the rest, I’m currently training four assistants for Team News just taking it day by day as I readjust back into the usual 18-hour college day.

 

Election Night

Note: This is a post on  a first of-age election experience of a journalist-in-progress 

I must be in a state of delirium, or nearly so. Even rightly so.

It’s 8:30 in the morning on Wednesday, Nov. 7.– the day after Election Day in the U.S., nearly one week ago. I have yet to break the continuous stream of consciousness we call being awake with sleep.

Either Americans breathed a sigh of relief before drifting off into a happy slumber or they spent the night rolling in their beds with disgust. Or perhaps there were even a select indifferent few who went to bed before any serious talk of results were discussed and slept soundly, untouched, by the politics attempting to peel back their covers and reveal the long-ignored monster under the bed.

Tuesdays are my usual night working desk at the Massachusetts Daily Collegian anyways, and I had been gearing up for a particularly long Tuesday night the weekend before. An all-nighter seemed likely; now it was reality. But I’m young, I can take it. And it’s not like the elections are a weekly happening (thank goodness).

I was worried this night on many different levels. Not only was this the first national election I had been of-age to cast in a vote– a fragment of anonymous, opinionated voice I was desperate to see materialize into my ideal candidates - but I had to help produce a news section with, well, really big news featured in it. Instead of the opening of basketball season or Halloween, elections are like the special editions for the news section. I’d bet that more readers pick up the paper this day just to read the news section than an average day of lectures and research grants.

The idea of election night in a newsroom sounds more exciting than it really is. I used to romanticize about reporters dashing in and out of haphazard stacks of paper, shoes skidding on checkered tile floors, shouting and hollering as word of the results trickled in, phones ringing. The age of the Internet and broadcast television brings us little suspense, as the aim of the game nowadays is not who reports the results but who reports it first, and all the rest of us little guys have to do is sit and reap the fast talkers.

There was a lot of waiting for results to come in, for interviews of student reactions to be conducted. Personal opinions aside, after the results came in,  it was all up to writing the pieces, editing and laying them out for the next day’s paper.

I could have left around 4:30 or 5 a.m., but I had a couple assignments to finish before my 9 a.m. journalism class. And if you’ve already spent 12 hours in the campus center basement, why not go all the way and top it out at 15?

Around 8:45 a.m., I emerged to ground level once again. I stood at the top of the stairs, blinking at all of the people already walking around, getting coffee, starting their day. To still be in a continuation of the previous day left me out of touch with their reality. I felt satisfied with all of the Collegian’s hard work  surreal about the time of day and state of my weary mind. But it was done– we had done what was expected of us and exceeded what we believed of ourselves capable of.

Election night was an exhausting night, a good night. And to think I got to help cover it as a college journalism student– that’s pretty neat. Here’s to the next three years of mostly election-free reporting.

Rape in the Amherst community

Rape.

Say the word and people start averting their eyes toward the floor, begin to edge out of the room denouncing such an atrocity, and though it could never happen to them, certainly justice must be served.

Rape.

It’s a hot topic in the community of Amherst, Massachusetts right now.

On the heels of a recent Oct. 17  article published in The Amherst Student by a former Amherst College student about her experience with on-campus rape comes another blow  to the Amherst community, this time from University of Massachusetts students involved in an alleged “gang rape.”

In an email sent out to UMass students  this afternoon, Chancellor Kumble Subbaswamy confirmed that four men from Pittsfield have been arrested for the rape of an 18-year-old student in the student’s residence hall early Saturday morning on Oct. 13. Subbaswamy added that the alleged perpetrators are known to the victim but are not UMass students.

Subbaswamy wrote that the UMPD “began an immediate investigation” following notification of the crime and that the University will further review campus security measures.

Subbaswamy expressed sympathy on behalf of the campus community, saying

“The victim and her family are receiving support from our campus resources. I know that I speak on behalf of our university community when I say that they are all in our thoughts during this difficult time.”

In a press conference being held today at 1 p.m. at the UMass Police Department, University officials are expected to release a statement regarding the four arrests linked to the sexual assault.

For live tweets of the conference, follow me: @Seafeezle.

This is a developing story. More updates to come following the press conference.

UPDATE 1:15 p.m: In a release issued by the University, the alleged perpetrators are identified as Emmanuel Bile, 18, Justin King, 18, Adam Liccardi, 18, and Caleb Womack, 17.

UPDATE 1:45 p.m: In a 20-minute press conference held at the UMPD, Chief John Horvath, Dean of Students Enku Gelaye and District Attorney David Sullivan spoke on the Oct. 13 rape case on the UMass campus. The case was reported Oct. 14 around 11:30 p.m by the victim.

UMass Police Chief John Horvath and Dean of Students Enku Gelaye address questions at an Oct. 22 press conference regarding the multiple Oct. 13 rape of an 18-year-old female student on campus. The case is still under investigation.

Subbaswamy reiterated statements from an earlier email and introduced Horvath.

Horvath confirmed the identities of the above-mentioned suspects and said that three of the four individuals had been signed into the residence hall not by the victim, though the suspects and the victim had known of each other through past “interactions.”

“I assume because of the age range they were here to visit students and socialize in some manner,” Horvath said.

When asked why it took five days to make any arrests, Horvath said that an “exhausted” investigative process and interviewing of the suspects had to be conducted before any major legal actions, saying

“To say that a week is a long time for a case like this is not the case. I’m very confident that in a  week turn around, we did everything we could.”

As for the well-being and enrollment status of the victim, Horvath declined to comment specifically, but said that she had  the support of her family and has  ”a wide array of support services on campus available to her.”

Gelaye talked of on-campus support services for all students and praised the victim for reporting her case to the University; Sullivan echoed her praise, thanking the victim for “having the courage to come forward.”

“We take the safety of the community seriously. We want students to know that they are responsible for the guests they sign in,” Gelaye said.

University officials said security procedures on campus will be reviewed and that the case is still under investigation.

My first beat, and the stakes are high

Journalism is like writing an essay.

Either you get your facts straight, or you don’t.

There is no merciful middle ground, no kinda-sorta wishy-wash in between.

Though this may sound simple, this has been a tough lesson to grasp fully, because unlike in writing an essay for a professor, my work is out there for all to see. Now in the age of the Internet, my work is out there for all to see, for all to comment and react to over multiple different platforms, forever.

This thought is overwhelming at times because of the sheer magnitude of it, the sheer weight of what it brings to the words I write, the interviews I conduct, the stories I take. It’s something that now constantly nags me, reminding me that if I mess up in a major way, my journalism career could be toast in a matter of virtual seconds. Whether this nagging feeling is a good or bad thing, I haven’t yet decided.

Not that I strive to mess up facts or write a story with the intention of ruining people’s lives. Oh no. Never.

But now that I am in charge of my first weekly beat at the Amherst Police Department, getting the dirty on the crimes which happened over the weekend, this thought has become more than relevant. One wrong name, one wrong alleged action or misplaced charge, and that’s it– my work could bring me serious repercussions.

And to be honest, this is terrifying.

I am now understanding, more and more, how the work I publish can impact other people and their lives. And not just any people, but my peers and members of my community. I am completely aware of this fact, and my crime log beat has further embedded this into my writing process.

I realize that it doesn’t matter if a mistake wasn’t intentional, because when it’s out in print or out on the web for all to see, it’s out there. And so is my name, attached to every published article.

Though, as I’ve stated before, this scares me, it also is pushing me to focus more and become more meticulous about fact-checking. If a claim seems questionable, it’s not solid. And if it’s not solid and able to be backed up 100 percent, I’m not going to use it, no matter how good it makes the story.

It’s not worth it.

Not for me, not for the subjects, and not for my readers.

I love writing and I love journalism, but that doesn’t mean I have a right to do these things. It is a privilege to be credible, a privilege to have my hard work be admired and read, and you can bet I’ll be giving it my all with every story I write.

On desk, up late

It’s 3 a.m. and I find myself hopping off my bike, front headlight flashing, to walk it and my yawning self up the hill and back to the safety of my dorm room.

It’s 10:05 p.m. a week later and it’s a little windy and a little rainy, by which I mean it’s a complete monsoon out there and it better not be like this when I  get out of here.

It’s midnight and I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or cry, because in all honesty I’d rather be sleeping right now or at least getting my homework done.

Every Tuesday night by 5 p.m. I make my way down into the windowless University of Massachusetts Campus Center basement  where many of my past labors of love reside and future toils are surely ruffling their feathers for flight. Massachusetts Daily Collegian, here I come.

Like with the other assistants and assorted editors and staff, we have all realized that the weather, the time or what happened during our day ceases to matter below the surface. Below the surface we are sealed into our own little world of words, edits, stories, design software, friends and foes. We strive to produce a paper  for the very next day, a paper who knows how many of our peers actually even read on any given day.

It’s 8:06 p.m. and my stomach is rumbling and making it hard to hear my own thoughts and I wonder if I should temporarily drop where I’m at to YCMP at Bluewall, almost going with “Yes.”

It’s 5 p.m., the beginning of the night, and I arrive on desk only to find my section in a content crisis and, not knowing much else I can do, I begin to send desperate emails and texts to writers asking to not make me cry tonight, only half-kidding.

It’s 1:38 a.m. and InDesign is once again causing me grief and impatience, so I just start tracking all of the stories and changing the size of the headlines.

Like I said before, time especially has no place in a space like the Collegian. You’re there until you’re spit out, and that always remains to be determined on the night. I’ve heard stories of editors going in at sunset and leaving at sunrise, which I have yet to have the privilege of experiencing.

And for what do we do this for? A team of students brought together by the need to write, the need to produce a college daily. Do we do it more for ourselves or for our school, our fellow students?

I tend to think it must be a little bit of both.

Back to school, briefly

Freshmen students walk around in large clusters, their student i.d. cards hung protectively around their necks like badges of accomplishment signifying this milestone in their lives. The echoes of drunk upperclassmen reverberate in the wee hours of the morning around the quad and up to every window in the residential area…

Ah, the sounds and sights of returning to college are upon us again. ‘Tis the season.

The staff of the Daily Collegian have been hard at work on Back to School week, planning, filling and laying out each day’s paper as in advanced as possible.

The school year for Collegian staff members begins, as always, in the windowless basement that is Collegian Headquarters, located in the Campus Center basement. Florescent lights, sticky desks and keyboards, half-dilapidated chairs… home away from dorm room.

For those staff members who moved in early last week, workshops were held through Sunday, ranging from training for new editors, headline and copy writing and learning the design and typography Adobe software InDesign. These workshops helped prepare us for the upcoming BTS week, currently happening, and eased us into our new titles, roles and school year. At least it did for me, anyways.

Tonight marks my first official shift as an assistant news editor. I enter Collegian headquarters at 4 p.m. and get spit out whenever, hopefully not into the wee morning hours as I have a 9 a.m. class with none other than George Forcier. But we’ll see.

I am looking forward to editing pieces and trying my hand at writing headlines, subheads, etc. None of these things come completely naturally yet, and I am far from using InDesign via muscle memory. The beginning will be slow, a little rocky, but I am expecting that because I am expecting to learn and grow as a writer.

This was a short post, but I’m sure once school gets going with my new journalism course and as my position at the Collegian becomes more practiced, I will have learned much and be able to share much more.

When a neighbor attacks your community journalism

There I was, sitting in my local coffee shop, hazelnut coffee steaming from its mug and the crumbs of what used to be a poppy seed bagel on a plate. There I was, unknowingly about to get accosted for an article I wrote back in June about my town– by my neighbor, no less.

Said article marked my second week as an intern for The Recorder and was about the filming of the in-production movie “Labor Day,” based on the novel by Joyce Maynard. The headline reads “Shop owners say film worth all the fuss,” and discusses how many businesses in Shelburne Falls, even those not benefiting directly from the presence of the film production, thought the filming in Shelburne Falls was a positive thing for the town, mainly because it would stimulate future tourism and business.

Back in June interviewing for this story, I spoke to a large number of main businesses in town, many of them key players in the Shelburne Falls Area Business Association.  I didn’t use all of the quotes and interviews I got. While walking from place to place amid production crew members and movie stars, my neighbor, who runs a small auction business on the second or third floor of a building on the bustling Bridge Street, greeted me and asked what I was doing. I told him, and he told me how much he despised the movie being filmed here, mainly because the lack of parking for him and his customers. He told me I needed to talk to him for the paper. I said maybe and left, because 1. He’s my neighbor, 2. He’s a bit pushy, a bit loud, 3. Always dramatic. I kept him in mind throughout the day, but as I assembled all of my interviews and quotes before I headed back to the office, the direction in which I knew the article to be going in didn’t include my booming and fuming neighbor.

Which brings us back to this morning in the coffee shop, when my neighbor walked in with a friend.

He still had the article sitting at home, he said, and he almost wrote an angry response to the paper about it, but “let it go because I was new” to reporting. He continued to say how I should have talked to him and not said that “all of the businesses were happy” with the presence of the filming, meaning him. He said I should learn from this mistake, listen better.

If I were to generalize that “all” businesses were happy with it, I would have had to talk with every. single. business. in town for that sweeping statement to be true. And every. single. business. would have had to agree wholeheartedly with the filming.

Needless to say, the article never once says that “all” businesses were happy about it.  Not once, though he insisted it did and wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. I failed at defending my piece and simply gave up in exasperation, not even bothering to say I had discussed this with my managing editor even before I wrote the story that day. My words, like the written ones in print, would only fall on deaf ears next to blind eyes. Shortly thereafter, I cleaned up my table and left.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned as I go along in the journalism world, it’s that the quotes and interviews you have pave the path and direction of where your article will go. You look for trends and patterns which will carry you through writing the piece. As I mentioned in an earlier blog post,

“I’ve realized that at this point, the facts basically make the story and it is my job as a journalist to organize them in a readable format. A fact will speak for itself; I merely write it out.”

My article is not one-side, does not only discuss how much the businesses of Shelburne Falls enjoyed hosting a film crew production for a couple weeks. It does not, because that is not what the article is about. The article focuses on a couple businesses and their experience with the film production taking place. This point, my neighbor completely missed. He only read into it what he wanted to read.

So, dear neighbor, I’ve heard your complaints. I disagree with your interpretation of my work. Here is the rebuttal you never let me provide during our one-sided discussion on how my sub-par skills as a community journalist fall through in your eyes: In the wise words of Bob Dylan, “Don’t criticize what you can’t understand.”