A Simple Solution for an Age-Old Reporting Problem |
| By Matt Baron You aren’t getting any younger. For the more than six billion people on planet Earth, not to mention the trillions of other creatures, this common saying is undeniably true. But in the peculiar world of journalism, there is an exception to this rule. Sometimes, people actually get younger. Why is this so? Here’s how it happens: Step 1: Joe Reporter calls the police department or swings by the station to get the scoop on the latest mischief. Step 2: A completed police report is not available, but Joe learns of a breaking development: the good guys have caught a bad guy. Step 3: Joe milks the police for as much information as possible. Deadline is drawing near and he doesn’t have much time to get all the nitty-gritty, but he knows that among the basics, he needs to get the bad guy’s age. He copies it from a press release or gets it verbally from an officer. Step 4: Joe faithfully regurgitates what he has gathered for an initial story, and then makes plans to follow up for the next edition. Can you spot where Joe ran a journalistic red light? He failed to recognize that police officers are not always so swift with subtraction. So rather than accept a number from police, my policy long has been to ask for a suspect’s date of birth. Sometimes, the police are not only one, but two years off in their calculations. My intent is not to ridicule police. But just as my livelihood does not depend on my skill to nab crooks, theirs does not hinge on mastering mathematics. Their job is to catch a number of figures, not figure out a bunch of numbers. A recent high-profile example of this common error occurred in the initial coverage of Luke Helder, the college student who is suspected of being the Smiley Face Bomber. When his name first surfaced, story upon story mentioned he was 22 years old and a junior at the University of Wisconsin-Stout. My skepticism was piqued-something didn’t seem to add up. College juniors are typically 20 or 21, though it was possible Helder had taken a year or two off somewhere along the line. Time magazine assigned me to visit the campus and report on his background, and in the process I was given magazine research showing he was born in May 1981. So, depending on his exact birth date, Helder was either 20 or 21. As I later learned, he had just turned 21. Yes, contrary to the truism stated at this column’s outset, he had actually gotten younger. You might be scoffing at this point: "Hey, chill out, Mr. Math Police. What’s all the fuss about?" Glad you asked. Here’s the focal point of the fuss: In a world where there is so much uncertainty, so much gray area, there are some things that are certain and we had better get it right. One is the spelling of an individual’s name. Messing that up is a cardinal sin because it undermines the credibility of everything else we write. The same holds true for goofing on someone’s age-even if it was a well-intentioned but math-challenged officer who made the mistake, and you simply repeated it. It’s one thing not to track down all the niftiest details about someone. That’s got a lot to do with skill, but luck also plays a factor. But it’s quite another matter to fumble on the basics. What else did you get wrong if you can’t even figure out someone’s age? In fact, it just makes sense-and saves you from having to go back and double-check later-to get the dates of birth of anyone whose age you may mention, whether it’s the high school student organizing a charity car wash or the neighborhood butcher retiring after 40 years in business. That is because time passes between reporting on and
publishing a story. Usually at least a few days pass, and sometimes it can be weeks or
even months before your story sees the light of day. Observing this simple principle will
reduce your stress on deadline. And that’s a good thing. After all, in case you have
not noticed, you aren’t getting any younger. |
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