By Ryan Chittum Sep 26, 2014 at 12:04 PM
There’s one word missing in too many major press accounts of Eric Holder’s tenure as Obama’s only attorney general: bankers.
It’s a baffling lapse for outlets like the Washington Post, Bloomberg, NPR, the Los Angeles Times, CNN, and ABC News, none of which, in their main stories on the resignation, mentions Holder’s dismal record prosecuting Wall Street fraud in the wake of the biggest financial disaster since the Great Depression. The New York Times drops one line toward the bottom of its front-page story on the news, inaccurately calling it a “liberal” notion that the AG “should have used his power to prosecute those responsible for the financial crisis in 2008.”
Holder leaves office having been far outclassed by the Bush administration even in prosecuting corporate criminals, despite overseeing the aftermath of one of the biggest orgies of financial corruption in history.
In March 2009, a month after Holder was sworn in as attorney general, The New York Times reported that “federal and state investigators are preparing for a surge of prosecutions of financial fraud” and that the DOJ considered it a “a top priority.”
Holder came from the white-shoe DC law firm Covington & Burling, which represented half of the top 10 mortgage servicers, along with MERS, the mortgage records system that played a big role in the foreclosure fraud scandal (the firm and the Justice Department declined to tell Reuters in 2012 whether Holder worked on any of those cases). He brought along his Covington colleague Lanny Breuer as enforcement chief, and Breuer would play a key role in the lack of indictments of major executives.
By the end of 2010, it was clear the financial prosecution surge hadn’t happened, and the media began making noise about it. Holder announced the results of a financial fraud task force, claiming more than 300 scalps.
The press quickly exposed Holder’s campaign as a public relations stunt, reporting that many were cases started years earlier by the Bush administration, other were double-counted, and that almost all of the rest were small fry. Even The New York Times’s Andrew Ross Sorkin, who’s no anti-bank populist, mocked Holder’s financial fraud task force as an exercise in missing the point.
Two years later, Holder did it again, announcing a mortgage fraud sweep had resulted in 530 prosecutions and a billion dollars in fines. Bloomberg immediately noticed that the DOJ had again included Bush-era cases in its tally. Several months later, the administration quietly admitted it had inflated the real numbers, which were 107 prosecutions and $95 million in fines—almost all from small-time criminals.
Then there’s the Holder Doctrine, set forth in a 1999 memo when he was Clinton’s deputy attorney general. It says that prosecutors should take “collateral consequences” into account when “conducting an investigation, determining whether to bring charges, and negotiating plea agreements.”
By 2012, Breuer all but admitted that the administration didn’t criminally charge banks because it worried about the collateral consequences. “In my conference room, over the years, I have heard sober predictions that a company or bank might fail if we indict, that innocent employees could lose their jobs, that entire industries may be affected, and even that global markets will feel the effects,” he said.
“Those are the kinds of considerations in white-collar crime cases that literally keep me up at night, and which must play a role in responsible enforcement.”
We know now—too late to do anything about it—that Holder never even really tried to investigate the banks. By early last year, 60 Minutes was confronting Breuer with reporting that sources inside the DOJ’s criminal division who said, “There were no subpoenas, no document reviews, no wiretaps” of Wall Street for the financial crisis. Eventually, after the political pressure grew intolerable, Holder squeezed billions of dollars in civil penalties from Wall Street without forcing a single individual to face trial. Contrast that with the Holder DOJ’s aggressive criminal prosecution of insider trading, which is basically a Wall Street-on-Wall Street crime.
Holder and Breuer were part of a pattern within the Obama administration of weak Wall Street enforcement—one that leads right back to the president himself. The tally of top officials who were close to Wall Street and have since left for finance or finance-related jobs includes former Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner, former SEC chairwoman Mary Schapiro, Breuer, former SEC enforcement chief Robert Khuzami, and, soon, you can bet, Eric Holder.
Here’s Holder’s legacy on the financial fraud front, which was one of the biggest issues he faced when taking office:
C. David Heymann’s Joe and Marilyn is full of highly dubious information—just like many of his previous books
By Ryan Chittum Sep 23, 2014 at 03:25 PM
On Christmas Eve 1983, David Cay Johnston exposed C. David Heymann’s Barbara Hutton biography as a fraud on A1 of the Los Angeles Times. Johnston reported that Poor Little Rich Girl contained numerous fabricated sources and pointed to facts that were either invented or so false that they raised grave additional questions about Heymann’s credibility.
Random House pulped the book, but Heymann rewrote it, sold it to another publisher, got a TV movie deal, and went on to a prolific career as a celebrity biographer.
Three decades after that first investigation, Johnston again exposed Heymann, this time on the cover of Newsweek, reporting that the author’s final effort, a posthumous book about Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe, Joe and Marilyn: Legends in Love, was also shot through with manufactured information and falsehoods.
Far from pulping it, Simon & Schuster, a division of CBS Corporation, is effectively standing by the book, which its Atria/Emily Bestler imprint published. That raises serious questions about editorial standards at the publisher—ones that it declines to answer. What did it know about Heymann’s questionable practices and when did it know it?
The Joe and Marilyn fiasco comes less than a year after Simon & Schuster published Dylan Davies’ fabricated book about the Benghazi attack, an incident that seriously damaged CBS News and 60 Minutes star Lara Logan, as well. The publisher had to pull that book.
Johnston’s Newsweek piece shows that Heymann’s supposed interviews with conveniently deceased figures like Pierre Salinger almost certainly didn’t happen, according to records in Heymann’s own archives. He raises questions about whether Heymann invented interviews with one of the book’s critical sources, a Holocaust refugee the author claimed, with no supporting evidence, had been Monroe’s therapist. And he raises serious doubts about whether Heymann talked to DiMaggio’s son, who died 15 years ago and was notoriously press-shy. Heymann dedicated Joe and Marilyn to Joe Jr.
Any one of these likely fabrications would necessitate pulling the book. When you add them up, it’s incredible that CBS, Simon & Schuster, and Atria/Emily Bestler continue to sell it, while refusing even to discuss the issues. So I decided to look into it, as well. And it’s clear that Johnston just scratched the surface in his piece.
For instance, Heymann claimed to have talked to Lotte Goslar, Monroe’s mime teacher, for the book. But Goslar died in 1997. Susan Strasberg, another source, died in 1999. Monroe’s makeup artist, Allan “Whitey” Snyder, whom Heymann cites two-dozen times, died in 1994. Yankees legend Bill Dickey died in 1993, and gossip columnist Doris Lilly died in 1991.
And then there’s Truman Capote, whom Heymann claims he interviewed and to whom he attributes many of the most salacious quotes, including one where Monroe allegedly said, “Joe’s biggest bat isn’t the one he used at the plate.” Capote died in 1984.
These supposed interviews fit a pattern, as Johnston noted in Newsweek: Quotes and new information attributed to dead sources who can’t say whether Heymann ever actually talked to them.
In the book, Heymann extensively quotes Robert Solotaire, whose father George was a good friend of Joe DiMaggio’s, discussing DiMaggio’s supposed use of prostitutes and his tiffs with Monroe, among other titillating anecdotes. Robert Solotaire died in 2008. Benjamin Solotaire, Robert’s son, tells me the quotes were made up.
“He would never have shared such intimate details about what Joe said,” Benjamin says. “My father said that George, my grandfather, would look away when having dinner with Joe and Marilyn whenever they were being affectionate. My father continued respecting that privacy. And the quotes just aren’t the way dad spoke. They are too crass and detailed for him.
“It is bothersome to me and my family that these made-up, embarrassing quotes are attributed to my father,” he continued. “George and dad were great friends of Joe and would never have tarnished his or Marilyn’s reputation.”
In one passage, Heymann quotes from a supposed interview with Judd Marmor, the famed Los Angeles psychiatrist (who died in 2003), about Monroe, who was briefly his patient. Heymann quotes Marmor discussing Monroe’s “on-again, off-again, three-year affair” with Elia Kazan and how much therapy she might have had elsewhere.
Val Holley, a Washington, DC-based biographer, actually talked to Marmor before he died for a possible update to his James Dean book. “I wondered if Marmor might say anything about Dean, so I called him,” Holley tells me in an email. “This would have been in 2002 or so. Not unexpectedly, Marmor said … he could not discuss any communications he may have had with James Dean.
“I personally have never relied on anything Heymann has written,” Holley says, noting that he specifically called Heymann’s credibility into question in the author’s note at the beginning of his Dean biography, noting that he had omitted Heymann’s widely circulated account (there’s even a play based on it) of a brief affair between Dean and the heiress Barbara Hutton because he was “unable to verify” it.
The Marmor quote in Joe and Marilyn is followed immediately by nearly an entire chapter of quotes from a psychiatrist named Rose Fromm.
Fromm’s appearance in Chapter 3 allowed Heymann to fill in lurid details about Monroe’s youth, including a supposed sexual incident with “Roxanne Smith,” a “pretty and well developed” sixth-grade classmate, whose existence, “despite the best efforts of the dozens of biographers who have written about Marilyn Monroe over the years,” had never been reported until Heymann came along. These and many other anecdotes and quotes from Monroe’s childhood, including details about her sex life with her first husband, come from Fromm in vivid detail 50 years after the fact (Heymann wrote that Fromm “kept notes on her meeting with MM, and these notes were made available to the author”).
Marilyn Monroe fan sites saw through this right away. The British blogger Tara Hanks wrote this in July, several weeks before the Newsweek piece appeared:
Heymann claimed to have interviewed many people close to Joe and Marilyn, including press agent Rupert Allan; make-up artist Alan ‘Whitey’ Snyder; George Solotaire’s son, Robert; Dom DiMaggio; Joe DiMaggio junior; Marilyn’s mime teacher, Lotte Goslar; and her masseur, Ralph Roberts.
However, many of the quotes attributed to them seem paraphrased from previously published material. And most of these people were known for their discretion, which makes much of what is said therein hard to believe…
Other alleged sources, such as psychiatrist Rose Fromm Kirsten and journalist Kurt Lamprecht, also seem to have appeared from nowhere.
The Fromm quotes have a distinct too-good-to-be-true feel to them that should have set off alarms with any publisher. Johnston, in his Newsweek piece, raises further questions about whether Heymann actually talked to Fromm and whether Monroe ever saw a psychiatrist by that name.
And this is hardly an exhaustive list of all the questionable reporting in Joe and Marilyn, much less the rest of Heymann’s books.
I tracked down one of Heymann’s exes, Gerry Visco, who happens to be an administrator across the quad at Columbia in the Department of Classics. “I lived with David for 6 years and I also worked with him as an assistant and interviewed many of his sources,” she says. “He definitely made stuff up although he was also a very thorough researcher at the same time.”
“He was a horrendous human being in many ways,” says Visco. She began classes here at the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism before breaking up with Heymann. “He did give me a ton of background on non-fiction writing and biography, but he was in many ways totally unethical which was such a contrast to what I was learning at the J-school.”
Johnston tells me he could only fit so much into his magazine piece. “I have enough to have written an entire book of fabrications,” he says. “And the important point is that it is not possible CBS didn’t know.”
Indeed, it’s hard to fathom why Simon & Schuster would publish Heymann in the first place, given his long-established and well-earned reputation as a fabulist. The Washington Post, for instance, led a 2003 story on his Georgetown book with, “There are lies, damn lies and statistics … and autobiographies, biographies and books by C. David Heymann,” noting that his books were “unfettered by live subjects.” The journalist Andrew Goldman wrote stories in 1999 and 2009 all but declaring that Heymann was a fabulist.
You can’t libel the dead, as biographer Kitty Kelley noted in that Post story, and Heymann made a living off of that. But Simon & Schuster looked the other way.
It continues to do so. Johnston says the book’s editor, Emily Bestler, hung up on him when he started asking about Heymann’s fabrications, and that Simon & Schuster declined to talk to him. Bestler did not respond to my requests for comment, and Simon & Schuster and CBS Corporation declined to comment on questions Johnston and I have raised. “Thank you for checking in on this again before you go to press. Once again, we will have no response to Mr. Johnston’s article in Newsweek, nor any comment on your questions,” says Adam Rothberg, Simon & Schuster’s senior vice president of corporate communications.
That doesn’t cut it.
Simon & Schuster and CBS need to answer questions about whether Bestler actually had the book factchecked, and if so, how that process went so wrong. They need to talk about why they haven’t recalled books that have been so thoroughly discredited. They also need to say why they signed someone like Heymann in the first place.
(photo credits: Simon & Schuster)
By Ryan Chittum Sep 9, 2014 at 06:50 AM
Carol J. Loomis, who retired in July after 60 years at Fortune, where she became, indisputably, a giant of business journalism. Along the way, she blazed a trail for women journalists, felled CEOs, and became close friends with a little-known Omaha investor named Buffett. Put it this way: She won a Loeb award for Lifetime Achievement in 1993 and continued working at the highest level for another 21 years. CJR’s Ryan Chittum talked to her about her remarkable career. (This is an extended version of a Q&A in the current print issue of CJR).
The Audit: The obvious first question is: Why now?
Carol Loomis: I really think it’s funny to have to defend retiring at age 85. I mean, really! When you get right down to it, it’s pretty amazing that I worked this long and so, you would think it had to be sometime. And so I think the closest to “why now?” is when you get this age, you realize that traveling has gotten more difficult. And the fact is, a Fortune writer should have the ability to be assigned to a story this afternoon, wherever in the world it is, and get on a plane tomorrow and go there and do sometimes-exhausting work. When you’re age 85 that sounds harder than it used to. So I do think that the “why now?” has a lot to do with realizing that my ability to be a full-fledged, dedicated, capable Fortune writer is probably held back a little by the fact that I’ve gotten this old. So that’s really what it is.
TA: Do you plan to write at all for Fortune or do you plan to write your memoirs or anything like that?
CL: Well, I’m definitely not writing my memoirs. I’ve done that. It was 16 pages in the magazine. I feel like that was pretty much “A” copy. I feel that if I went on and tried to do a book it would be moving into “B”, “C”, and “D” copy, and I’m just not interested in that. The fact is, I have no economic reason to write. And many people who do write books, do have an economic reason to write one. Andy Serwer and I sort of left it up in the air as to whether I would maybe do another something for Fortune. It seems to me that if I got my fingers on a really great story that would be good for Fortune.com, it would take me about five minutes to sit down and report it and write it. A longer story, like a 6,000 word piece, would have to be something that I could do without pressure, setting my own timeframe. And that may be a hard recipe to come up with. So I just don’t know how it’s going to work out, and now there’s a new managing editor. I know Alan Murray only slightly but everything I know about him is very good.
TA: I know you’ve been opposed to Time being part of a media conlogmerate. And now with the spinoff, will that affect the culture at all? They have editors reporting to the business side now—things that hadn’t been done before. Are you worried about that?
CL: Well, I think “worry” would be too strong a word. I certainly recognize that it’s a different reporting structure, and I think the old one, where the managing editor reported to an editor-in-chief is to be preferred over this one. But times are very different today, as far as print’s concerned and so I can’t say just absolutely that it shouldn’t be this way. I don’t know. It’s just—everything’s very different.
TA: How about how they spun the company off? Rupert Murdoch when he spun off News Corp., he gave it a big pile of cash and no debt, and they didn’t do that here.
CL: Well, first of all. I think it’s good, as you say. I’ve expressed my feelings about print organizations being owned by conglomerates, so I think it’s better that we’re off on our own. First of all, I just haven’t studied as much as I probably should have the financial characteristics here, so I don’t have a strong opinion as to whether the amount of debt we got was burdensome. You know we’ve been sending an awful lot of money up to Time Warner, and we’re keeping our own cashflow now. That’s certainly to the good. But I don’t have a strong feeling as to whether the company is financially set up the way it should be or not.
TA: What do you think about the news industry these days? A big part of my job is writing about the business of news, and it’s a gruesome scene, a lot of it. Do you have any thoughts on where the business is now and what it could be doing?
CL: I don’t have views that I could support with a lot of knowledge. I think it’s a tough spot, and I’m glad to see the improvisation that’s out there as people attempt to solve their problems. I’m a huge admirer of The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. I read them both religiously every day and am very thankful that I can still get the print copy delivered to my front door at about 5:15 in the morning. I think it’s tough for everybody going through these years, and we don’t know how it will shake out and I just hope it’s in a way that supports the newsgathering forces, which we need so much.
TA: What else do you read to keep on top of the news?
CL: Of course you have to recognize that there’s a difference in what I was doing a month ago and what I’m doing now, because I’m retired. I don’t need to worry about keeping up with everything as much as I did.
TA: How about what did you read, I should say?
CL: I didn’t see the Financial Times every day, but every day that I saw it, I was sorry that I didn’t see it everyday. And other than that, I read things like The New Yorker, which I still read. I go to Marketwatch.com to read what’s going on there and to look at a stock portfolio. And I sometimes saw the Washington Post, and I was always glad when I saw the Washington Post. It was the Times and the Journal that I considered indispensable every day, including on the weekends.
TA: Your whole career has been about doing longform journalism. These days, we often hear that to emphasize the 5,000-word piece is just “journalists writing for journalists.”
CL: First of all, I think the old Fortune, one of its quirks was that just about every story was the same length: long. The editors would talk from time to time… every managing editor would say we ought to have variance in the length of the stories. They all don’t deserve a full 6,000 words. Some of them should be 3,000 words, and everybody would give lip service to this but then it wouldn’t happen. So when we went to biweekly, I think that that was one of the things that we began to do better was that we did recognize that some stories deserved very long treatment and that others didn’t deserve as much. And so I think that was all to the good, and I believe that managing editors have gotten better and better at that, as they’ve gone along, in recognizing the number of words that a subject deserves. I can’t imagine the world without longform journalism. I simply don’t think it’s simply just journalists writing for journalists. There are some subjects that just can’t be covered without a lot of words. I think back on some of my stories where I just could not have done the subject the justice it deserves. Something like derivatives, for example.
TA: That’s the one I was thinking of.
CL: There were actually two of them. One in 1994 and one in 1995, both of them cover stories, and there’s no way of writing in a short fashion about derivatives. Particularly not when they’re brand new and people are trying to understand them for the first time, and you must have a generous supply of words to deal with that. You need room to handle the bigness of the subject.
TA: What impressed me about those stories was how prescient they were 13 or 14 years before the financial crisis. And that’s true for a lot of your stories going back as long as you’ve been writing.
CL: Some of it is luck. I remember on the first derivatives story, one of our editors Julie Connelly, said, “Carol, you ought to write about derivatives,” and I remember shrinking in horror. The Fortune way was that the great stories come out of a good subject and a writer who enthusiastically wants to cover that subject. And so, almost never, are you told you must do a story at Fortune. Almost never.
This editor and my managing editor at the time, who was Marshall Loeb, convinced me that (derivatives) was a subject that I should take on. And one of my failings is that I tend to get very interested in subjects if I go into them. That accounts for the messiness of my office, because I never forget my interest in those subjects. I got into derivatives and as I began to understand them I found them fascinating. I began to develop sort of a concept of how to write about them.
And I’ve always had the ability—and this is very important—to call up the smartest investor, definitely, and probably the smartest guy in the country, Warren Buffett, and say, “Guess what I’m going to do derivatives. You have any thoughts on this?” And I have benefited greatly from having Warren suggest a few things to me over the years.
TA: How much of that was him informed by you, and how much was you informed by him?
CL: As I said, I benefited from being able to ask his opinion about things. And so that’s been very important that I could check in on someone like Warren and get his views. And I could do that early and I could do it later, and in the meantime I could get informed myself totally about a subject. To the extent that there’s been any informing, I’m afraid that I haven’t informed him very much (laughs). He’s informed me more than the other thing. I wouldn’t be presumptuous.
TA: Being a woman who started in the Fifties at Fortune magazine to a lot of people it’s really surprising that that happened back then. At the same time, you have some of the greatest journalists have been women—Ida Tarbell, for instance…
CL: Of course. Good name to pull from the ancient times. Absolutely.
TA: Did you learn from them or did you sort of make your own way? How did you become a writer at Fortune back when women didn’t get those jobs?
CL: Well, I got invited to do it. First of all, it was not something that I was even the smallest amount of pushy about. I liked my job. I was a researcher, which was what they would call a reporter today, who worked with the writers, all of whom were men. And then we started this new investment column and my managing editor called me in and said that we need two writers on the column and one of them was going to be Tom Wise and the other one he hoped would be me. And I sort of did what women are not supposed to do. I said, “Are you sure? Women don’t write!” (laughs). And he said yes, he was sure. As I think the memoir said, I had two things I had to learn all at once. I had to learn about writing for Fortune and I had to learn about investments, which I didn’t know enough about. And the editor of the investment column was a guy named Dan Seligman and he more than any other person was responsible for teaching me how to write for Fortune. He probably didn’t know anything more about investment than I did, but both of us kind of learned together. So I owe a lot to Dan Seligman for teaching me, and the managing editors were always good about chiming in—maybe they didn’t even chime in often enough. I remember that there was, many years later, it was a story about utilities I did. And I turned in my first draft and my editor, who was Dan Seligman still then. Bob Lubar was the managing editor and Bob Lubar sent Dan Seligman a note and said—I can still remember it—“One of Carol’s virtues is that she leads the reader around so carefully. But she sometimes gets quite wordy in doing that.” Well, it was a revelation to me. Nobody—I’d been writing for 12 years or something like that—nobody had ever said that I sometimes got wordy. And the minute they did, I stopped it (laughs). Oh, if they’d only told me that five or six years ago, it would have been so much better. I think sometimes we didn’t get as much guidance as we should have, but eventually we did.
TA: Did you have problems when you were trying to talk to executives in a male-dominated culture—being taken seriously or getting interviews?
CL: After my first story, which wasn’t very good, I got absolutely rabid about collecting every fact I could before I ever interviewed anybody. I believed that if you’ve done your homework, then about one minute into the interview they don’t even notice whether you’re a man or a woman. They realize that they are talking to someone who paid them the compliment of studying up for the interview.
Sometimes I think that just doesn’t happen as much as it should, so that’s still one of the great things that I think journalists can do is try to just become as informed as they can before they ever make a telephone call.
TA: How has reporting changed over your career? Have the PR operations gotten savvier? Is it harder to get to the key people?
CL: I think that there are some companies that are pretty notorious for not welcoming journalists at all, and it’s hard to talk to Apple. We have a guy in California who can talk to Apple. But when I did a story last year on Apple, and I tried to talk to them, I couldn’t even get close to Tim Cook. Fortunately, it was the kind of story where I didn’t have to.
If you can’t get into these companies, you have to come to grips with the question of is this story worth a write-around, which is a term I never had heard for a long time. Sometimes you just have to prove to a company that you can do a good write-around to make them think that maybe they didn’t make the right decision originally. So I think that companies have gotten tighter to get into. It’s harder. I think that public relations men were sitting in on interviews very early in my reporting career, so I’ve always been used to that. A story I just did on BlackRock, they did not want me to do a story at the time I asked to do it. I just persisted and ended up writing Larry Fink a letter making the argument why I should do the story. And for whatever reason, he decided to say yes. So it just varies.
TA: It’s not like you have a beat where you’re covering these companies and know them, day in day out for ten years or something. When you get an assignment or story idea, how do you go about digging into the company?
CL: Well, it’s A) to do a lot of homework and study before I ever get a first interview, and then it’s to interview quite a few people. Talking to the CEO alone is not a good idea. You can certainly do a story if you talk only to the CEO but you’re so much better off if you can talk to the CFO and the head of marketing, head of engineering (I’m sort of making it up, because it would vary a lot with the company it was). Gradually, and I always asked to talk to the CEO when I was beginning and then at the end of the process, because by that time you’re so much smarter, you really know what the questions are. And of course all of this takes a lot of time and some publications aren’t willing to devote that much time to it, and Fortune has always been, so that’s one of the great things about working here.
TA: When you say homework, are you talking about reading clips and going into securities filings and court documents?
CL: I’m unusually fond of reading 10-Ks (laughs). I like to read 10-Ks. And now, one of the things you’ve got that you didn’t have, is you’ve got transcripts of earnings calls. So on the story I did about Apple where I said I could get no cooperation at all, I read seven years of earnings calls and took notes as I read them so that I could remind myself what was important in each one of them. And the earnings calls turned out to be—on the subject I was writing on, which was Apple’s cash—really, really important. Because I could find out what Steve Jobs said about cash. I could find out whether their story changed at all about cash over the years as it was building up. So thank heavens in that case for earnings calls.
TA: One of the things we’ve criticized at CJR is the speeding up of the reporting and writing process. That people have to churn out more content—more stories, videos, tweets, livechats and things like that. Do you notice that?
CL: I think an awful lot of what appears online is useless. It’s not well prepared, there are often important inaccuracies in something. And I think the form suffers because too little time goes into it and it’s very derivative. Everybody’s reading what everybody else has written about it, and I think a lot of it just doesn’t make the grade of good journalism.
TA: My boss, Dean Starkman, wrote a book about the financial crisis and how the press covered it in the runup to it, and he was critical about that. In 2004 to 2007, particularly the banks and mortgage lenders. While there was a lot of talk about a housing bubble, in his view, there was less of a direct take on the institutions that would lead to the financial crisis. What do you think about that and how the financial press…
CL: I haven’t read the book, but I have read some of what he said, and I thought there was a lot of merit in what he said. Our housing writer here was actually very good on the subject…
TA: Shawn Tully
CL: Shawn Tully, yeah you’re right. I was writing earlier about accounting scams, but I was not writing very much about that. Maybe I should have been during that period. Well, I take it back, I was writing a lot about Citigroup and toward the end under Chuck Prince, I was very critical of what was going on at the company. But I didn’t do anything on JP (Morgan) or Morgan Stanley. I did something earlier on Morgan Stanley.
TA: You’re one person, though, and I think you did plenty, but it’s the institutions. The Journal, where I was at at that point, or Fortune as a whole or Forbes or BusinessWeek. Any idea why we missed it or didn’t do a good enough job?
CL: I think it took a high degree of intelligence to see it. And we know how many businessmen—businesspeople, I should be saying—were completely fooled. Maybe we should have stepped out and realized how bad things had gotten. But I don’t think we were any smarter than the business populace that was largely fooled by the buildup and the bubble.
TA: Let’s see. I could ask you questions all day.
CL: Don’t do that (laughs). I can always call you back. I might be off playing bridge and might be unavailable for three hours or so, but do call because I’ve never done a story where I succeeded in asking every question that I wished I would have asked without having to call back.
By Ryan Chittum Sep 8, 2014 at 08:00 PM
European investment fund 3TS Capital Partners is buying American paywall pioneer Press+ for an undisclosed sum and will merge it with its European paywall company, Piano Media.
The deal creates a global digital-subscription services company that aims to expand rapidly in Europe and elsewhere across the globe, and, importantly, will have more data on what works in digital subscriptions across a diverse set of companies and countries than anyone else.
The combined companies will be led by Kelly Leach, a Dow Jones veteran who resigned as publisher of The Wall Street Journal Europe last month to take the CEO post at Piano, which operates primarily in Central and Eastern Europe.
Journalism industry veterans Gordon
KCrovitz and Steven Brill founded Press+ in 2009 when virtually all news organizations had free websites. Before Press+, publishers would have had to spend serious money developing their own pay technology and figuring out what worked and what didn’t. Press+ built technology around the metered-paywall model pioneered by the Financial Times. By allowing publishers to outsource the tech operations and startup costs (Press+ takes a cut of sales) and to set their own price points and page limits, Press+ was the key driver of the paywall movement of the last few years. (CJR is one of the company’s clients.) The company now has revenue in the low tens of millions of dollars.
In 2011, when RR Donnelly purchased it for between $20 million and $35 million, Press+ had fewer than two dozen publishers.
“Before we even started it I went to Arthur Sulzberger and begged him—I wasn’t looking for a job, I wasn’t looking to start a business—to do a metered wall at the NYT because he was ruining it for all the journalists in the world,” Brill says. “He thought I was crazy. That’s (how) Gordon and I decided to start the company.”
Sulzberger would change his mind by 2011, another key moment in the mass move to paywalls, as The New York Times’ meter succeeded beyond the most optimistic projections.
Press+ now has 560 customers, mostly in North America. “It’s become the exception that a North American newspaper still has a free model,”
KCrovitz says. The combined company will have nearly 700 publisher customers.
Unfortunately, the NYT, along with The Wall Street Journal (where
KCrovitz formerly was publisher) and Financial Times, are the exceptions in gathering a critical mass of digital subscribers in the US.
For most newspapers, the primary benefit to the meter model has been pushing price increases for all-access subscriptions to print and digital. That led to a much-needed boost of circulation revenue across the industry that totaled hundreds of millions of dollars. But it hasn’t put a floor under the American newspaper industry, where the bump in circulation revenue may have been a one-time deal—one largely dependent on print. Few American newspapers, many of which are shadows of their former selves, have proven that they can sell enough digital-only subscriptions to support robust newsgathering operations once the print profits run dry.
Piano Media launched as a sort of national paywall in Slovakia three years ago. It got most of the major publishers in the country on board for a countrywide paywall and has expanded from there. It now offers a metered product for individual publishers.
Leach is optimistic that digital growth rates can be boosted. “When you initially put up a paywall, there’s an influx of subscribers. After that there’s going to have to be other tactics and thinking about pricing and promotion.”
Asked if most newspapers still have the resources to generate the kind of content people will pay for, something we’ve wondered for years as publishers gutted their newsrooms, Leach sighs and says, “I hope so. I hope so. It certainly varies.”
The Financial Times, for one, has such resources. It launched its metered paywall seven years ago and has shown recently that even a mature digital-subscription product can post high growth rates, though financial news has some significant advantages of over non-financial news in attracting paying customers. It now has twice as many digital subscribers as it does print subscribers.
A big part of the FT’s success has been using data to become a better marketer of its subscriptions. Press+ uses data on what’s worked for some publishers to help other publishers improve their results. They’ve been able to tell publishers that they can price their subscriptions much higher than they initially expected and show them that reducing the number of free pageviews per month increases subscriptions for each pageview reduced. They know renewal rates for print subscribers who actively use a paper’s website exceed 95 percent.
While digital subscriptions can be very profitable for Press+ and Piano Media, which have no cost of content and whose cost for installing each new meter is relatively low, they have to be profitable enough to help prop up the publishers too. In other words, their future growth depends on the ability of publishers to produce stuff worth paying for.
“For such a long time, publishers have been concerned about pageviews because they’ve been relying on digital ad revenue,” Leach says. “How do we make sure as publishers that we’re generating content that’s high enough value that there are consumers that will pay to have access to it?”
By Ryan Chittum Sep 8, 2014 at 11:00 AM
“Food Prices Are Soaring and Washington Doesn’t Care,” screeches conservative site The Federalist. The New York Post blares, “Meat, poultry, and fish prices spike to all-time high.” CNNMoney declares, “Soaring prices make it hard to be a foodie.” Even anti-vax quack site Natural News joined in with “Ground beef prices hit all-time high in US.”
Then there’s The Wall Street Journal, ever looking out for the well-to-do, with “High Food Prices Lead to Trade-offs Even in Upper-Income Households,” which relates the story of a dog-spa owner who’s substituting heirloom tomatoes and fresh mozzarella for shrimp at her annual feast for 200 this year. And there was the spate of “BBQ Indexes” around the Fourth of July that said food prices were “exploding.”
You might get the impression from this cacophony of coverage that inflation is going crazy. But it’s not. When you look at the numbers and not the headlines, you learn that inflation is actually at very low levels, up 2 percent in the last year.
Food inflation, like overall inflation, is low, up 2.5 percent in the past year. But most of us have no idea that’s the case:
Food prices are volatile, which means the press can get lots of easy stories about “soaring” prices when they’re on the uptick (falling prices don’t command as much attention). But they tend revert to overall price trends, context that is almost always left out of these pieces.
People are notoriously bad at knowing what prices are doing. In 2001, the Cleveland Federal Reserve found that respondents thought prices had gone up 6 percent a year in recent years, when they were actually up less than half that. All demographics significantly overestimated inflation, but the most striking disparity in misjudgments was by income group. The poorer you were, the more you overestimated inflation.
That happens to be politically convenient for the very wealthy, who own the vast majority of the assets in the economy. Every
asset is a debt debt is an asset on the other side of the balance sheet, and those debts are disproportionately held by the poor and middle classes. Policies that lead to somewhat higher inflation levels make debt easier to pay off (reducing the holding value of assets). Very low inflation or outright deflation makes it harder. In the aftermath of a crisis caused by the inability to service massive amounts of debt, low inflation is a very bad thing for the economy as a whole. See the Eurozone, which is very close to tipping into deflation.
Much inflation overestimation is due to cognitive biases that have nothing to do with the press. Price increases make more of an impression on us than price decreases do, something known as loss aversion. We also pay more attention to price increases in cheap stuff like food that we buy all the time than on more expensive things like clothes or computers that we buy less often. Research in the European Economic Review found that “perceived inflation tends to be higher during periods in which prices of frequently purchased goods (e.g. basic food products like milk and vegetables) experienced larger increases” and that “perceptions are in general not rational, average perceptions of inflation are too high.”
Media coverage exacerbates the problem, in part because, well, journalists are people too—and ones that aren’t necessarily any better with numbers—but also because of the natural journalistic tendency to search for the exception, to play up a “record” this or a “for the first time” that. This CNNMoney segment is a particularly cringeworthy example of that:
A key point to remember when covering prices is that the inflation rate is an average of the retail price changes of many, many different items. No kidding, you say. But this is an important point. It’s the difference between anecdotal evidence and statistical evidence, and lots of people who ought to know better don’t.
All you have to do to get a “prices soaring” story is to select certain items that are up big (there’s always something up big: food prices are volatile) and have them represent “food prices” as a whole. Hamburger meat is up 10 percent from last year, but bread, for instance, is down 0.3 percent. Coffee is off 1.5 percent and vegetables are 0.5 percent cheaper.
Ben Domenech, the conservative author (one hopes!) who wrote the Federalist post above, gives us a classic example of this misdirection with “Food Prices Are Soaring and Washington Doesn’t Care.” Here’s his misleading chart:
And here’s what his chart looks like when you compare wage growth with actual overall food prices:
This cherry-picking isn’t limited to bloggers. Here’s Stephen Moore, formerly of the Wall Street Journal editorial board:
Nobody believes the statistics out of Washington and often for good reasons. A 2% inflation rate. Ha. Most Americans see the rate of price increases for the things they have to buy - milk, bread, vegetables, medicines, health insurance premiums, college tuitions, gas at the pump - rising at sometimes two to three times faster than the official CPI.
Moore is chief economist at the Heritage Foundation.
The issues with news coverage are typically less glaring, but are still problematic. The New York Post and CNSNews.com both say that hamburger meat prices are at a record high. That’s just not true. In 1980, for instance, a pound of ground chuck cost $1.86 in real terms. It costs $3.92 today. A pound of choice round steak cost $8.12 back then in real terms. It’s $5.58 today.
Then there’s this Wall Street Journal story, “High Food Prices Lead to Trade-offs Even in Upper-Income Households.” The WSJ reports, “Rising prices have been battering the budgets of low-income consumers in recent years. Now, researchers say more high-income households, defined as those earning more than $100,000 a year, report feeling pressure, too.”
But the WSJ is confusing the cost of living with the standard of living. The cost of living has been rising at rates well below historical levels in recent years.
The standard of living is what the WSJ should be concerned about. Wage gains at the bottom and in the middle have been so low that they’re not keeping up with very low price increases.
But food expenditures now account for less than 7 percent of consumer spending, half the level of 40 years ago.
This misreporting matters more than you might think. The inflation question isn’t just a simple matter of whether prices are rising. It goes to core arguments about the economy, who holds power, and where policy should go.
By Dean Starkman Sep 5, 2014 at 11:00 AM
Bob Kerr, a wry, witty writer with a mordant worldview that grows from an intimate connection to the working-class life of Southeastern New England, has been the metro columnist for the Providence Journal for about 20 years, part of a 43-year career at the paper that began not long after he got out of Marine Corps service in the Vietnam War.
But he’s more than an indispensable community voice. A cubicle-mate of mine a long time ago, Kerr was also a kindly and patient presence for some of us hotheads screaming into the phone or ranting about one thing or another. Every newsroom needs an anchor. Bob was that.
The other day, Kerr got a call from the human relations people at the paper. An HR person told him and a handful of colleagues that they were being laid off as part of a wider series of cost cuts imposed by the paper’s new buyer, an outfit called New Media Investment Group, an arm of private equity giant Fortress Investment Group. Kerr was told of his severance benefits, such as they were, and after about 10 minutes, the meeting, and his career, were over. Another 21 union staffers were let go the same day, in the same manner.
I’ve been at the Columbia Journalism Review for the last seven very, very interesting years. Today, I’m stepping aside, lucky enough to be moving to a new job (TBA). As a media reporter and critic, and through the writing of a book on the media and the financial crisis, I’ve had chance to give considerable thought to the disruption, transformation—or whatever you want to call it —that began to hit home just as I was coming on board here in the spring of 2007. Along the way, I’ve come to some rather firm (some would say blunt) opinions on discrete media issues, like, for instance, the false promise of free news and the cost of amped-up newsroom productivity requirements, among other things.
But I don’t pretend to know what’s going to work for the future of news. And after a recent tour of efforts to figure it out at places as different as Bloomberg, First Look, and Al Jazeera America, it is clear enough that they don’t know either. In fact, I don’t know if anybody knows. If someone tells you they do know, they’re probably a consultant.
But one thing I feel safe in saying is that the way to create value toward a sustainable future for the long term is probably not to treat the talent like a used Dunkin Donuts wrapper. Nor, it should go without saying, is the way forward to continue to cut a newsroom that has already been cut beyond recognition, to the point that serious readers can readily see the erosion in the breadth and depth of the daily report.
Indeed, as if on cue, Kerr’s departure prompted a by-now familiar spasm of encomiums and laments from readers and former colleagues, but this isn’t about the future of Bob Kerr, who, I am confident, will be just fine, but the future of news.
I don’t consider myself a glass-half-empty kind of person (though some would!), but that’s where I find myself now. I’m impressed with the rise of BuzzFeed, with its highly credentialed investigative team amid an editorial staff of 170, according to a Pew report in March. Gawker has 132 editorial staffers; Politico, 170. Huffington Post has 575, for Pete’s sake, not so many fewer than the legacy news organization that I’ll be joining soon. In all, Pew (an invaluable resource that we take for granted but shouldn’t) found upwards of 468 new digital news outlets employing upwards of 5,000 journalists.
But on one level, it’s a numbers game. The same Pew report, basically optimistic in tone, also was careful not to neglect the inescapable fact that the number of editorial jobs lost in the newspaper industry alone totaled 16,000 in the decade ending in 2012.
And, obviously, the losses have kept on coming. Gannett just did yet another round of layoffs. On August 15, after a bad second quarter that included disappointing new-product launches, The New York Times Company’s chairman and publisher, Arthur Sulzberger, and its CEO, Mark Thomson, issued a memo that promised both “significant investment and significant cost savings,” leaving the staff bracing for a new round of job cuts. A Times spokeswoman says the memo was part of continuing efforts to inform the staff about the company’s finances, and that its substance was in keeping with past statements; she declined to comment on job-cut rumors. Meanwhile some significant fraction of the 32,000 jobs lost in the magazine business has been in the news business, according to Pew.
It’s worth remembering that despite the digital growth and legacy deterioration, all the new digital jobs put together still amount to a single-digit percentage of the nation’s editorial infrastructure; newspapers alone still employ 38,000 and local TV, which remains persistently profitable, around 27,000.
One can point to ProPublica and other new outlets producing dozens, or even hundreds of longform narratives and investigations. But I would respond with numbers showing a drop-off in the publication of longform at the top four dailies over the past decade alone amounting to thousands of stories a year. Even if old media wasn’t your cup of tea in the first place, a net reduction of thousands of news gatherers, photographers, and editors can only be seen as what it is: a net reduction in public knowledge.
Almost as important, it’s where the jobs are distributed. Where they aren’t is the statehouse, city hall, the Washington bureaus of regional and local papers that used to cover local Congressional delegations, school boards, police departments, and so on. Pew, relying partly on our own invaluable Guide to Online News Startups, does note that the 438 smaller outlets include many outlets covering local communities, including the 117 members of the Local Independent News Association. Still, it’s partly a numbers game, and the total editorial staffers among them amount to 1,900, or 4.4 per outlet. Back in the day, the Projo had about double that number in the Pawtucket bureau. Further, it is a mistake to assume that even the current local outlets are growing or are even here to stay; many of them are financially fragile.
Jay Rosen, with whom I’ve agreed and disagreed in about equal measure over the years, has long decried the pack thinking in mainstream journalism that results in, say, 5,000 journalists covering the @$#%^ Super Bowl, while issues of great public importance, the ones everyone says they care about, go uncovered.
But while many have noted that the economics of the internet have not been kind to the news business, at least to its fact-gathering function, one could also argue that it has had a distorting affect on how existing resources are allocated, exacerbating the duplication problem Rosen identifies. Before, newspapers had only a vague idea of what was popular. The very precision of digital metrics, which document popularity to the last keystroke, has had almost a gravitational pull on journalistic resources. As John Herrman brilliantly describes (followed wonderfully by Alex Pareene and others), even prestigious media outlets find themselves required to come up with something, anything, about something everyone is already writing about (e.g. nude celebrity photos). This media clustering around things that are already popular is not a moral failing. It is a structural problem.
For the same reason, we will never lack for coverage of popular niche areas: technology, food, sports, and the like. Bleacher Report, for instance, has a staff of 140. Google “technology news sites” or “sports news sites” and get page after page of outlets, many producing original material about basically the same thing. And I’m not even going to talk about entertainment coverage.
One could argue that coverage of niche areas—food, real estate, macroeconomics, law—is better than in the previous era, and I would agree. But niche areas are by definition not the broader public interest, just as adding all the niche audiences together doesn’t equal the public itself.
Obviously, we need to make do with the system we’ve got—a few successful startups, the odd billionaire stepping in, remorseless financial players like Gatehouse/Fortress, and legacy companies staggering around like Wile E. Coyote after he hit the ground.
But no one should kid themselves that we’re anywhere near where we need to be. Just sayin’.
See you on the other side.
Publishers who cheer the move should know that Zuckerberg & Co. can turn off the traffic spigot whenever it suits them
By Ryan Chittum Aug 28, 2014 at 11:07 AM
In May, Mike Hudack posted a self-described rant on Facebook about the dismal state of the media, focused as it is so often these days on lowest-common-denominator clickbait.
[W]e turn to the Internet for our salvation. We could have gotten it in The Huffington Post but we didn’t. We could have gotten it in BuzzFeed, but it turns out that BuzzFeed’s homepage is like CNN’s but only more so. Listicles of the “28 young couples you know” replace the kidnapped white girl. Same thing, different demographics…
(Vox.com) writes stupid stories about how you should wash your jeans instead of freezing them. To be fair their top headline right now is “How a bill made it through the worst Congress ever.” Which is better than “you can’t clean your jeans by freezing them.” The jeans story is their most read story today. Followed by “What microsoft doesn’t get about tablets” and “Is ‘17 People’ really the best West Wing episode?”
“Someone should fix this shit,” he concluded.
Problem is, Mike Hudack is director of product at Facebook Inc., which as seemingly every journalist on the internet rushed to point out, is as responsible for these problems as anyone. It showed a startling lack of self-awareness of Facebook’s outsized role in the media ecosystem.
Now, three months later, Facebook has taken a step toward curbing clickbait by tweaking its newsfeed algorithm. And while that’s a positive step, it’s unlikely to do much about Hudack’s plaint.
For one, Facebook has a somewhat narrow definition of clickbait:
“Click-baiting” is when a publisher posts a link with a headline that encourages people to click to see more, without telling them much information about what they will see. Posts like these tend to get a lot of clicks, which means that these posts get shown to more people, and get shown higher up in News Feed
Which means HuffPost Spoilers could have less material, an unfortunate side effect:
But the change is hardly going to spark a race to the top among content creators. Facebook is mostly a shiny, happy place. Dropping hard news or a serious think piece between baby pictures and vacation updates is more likely to draw crickets than likes. Which is why the ice-bucket challenge was all over your Facebook feed, but Ferguson and ISIS were not.
But it’s more than that. The core economic incentives of the advertising-based internet put the pursuit of pageviews above all else.
That model struggles (at best) to support serious journalism. “Bryan City Council passes first vote on $6.2M incentive for hotel developer” isn’t going to get many clicks, for instance, but “The Best City Council Ad In Existence” might. And the former, which required someone to go out and do time-consuming reporting, is far more expensive than the latter, which did not.
Which is why it pays to be in the platform business, where you let other people make the content for you. Facebook’s revenue per user was a measly $5.79 in the US and Canada last quarter, less than the cost of one newsstand copy of the Sunday New York Times in most of the country.
But Facebook had more than 200 million users, and the cost of its content was effectively zero. Its operating-profit margin was a whopping 48 percent.
For publishers that depend on Facebook to funnel them pageviews, existence is precarious. Facebook can turn off the traffic spigot at any time. The Washington Post crowed about its ethically challenged Social Reader app, but then Facebook tweaked its algorithm, and the traffic evaporated overnight.
The peril of platform dependency is hardly limited to those focused on Facebook, though. In the SEO heyday, there was the rise of Demand Media (remember them?), which gamed Google’s search results with low-quality posts well enough that within a few weeks of going public in 2011, it was worth $1.8 billion. Soon after, Google changed its algorithm, burying posts from content farms down low in search results. Demand shares have crashed 92 percent since then.
So scrupulous news publishers can’t really cheer Facebook’s decision to kneecap some of their more manipulative competitors. Zuckerberg & Co. can and will do the same to them someday, as soon as it serves Facebook’s interests.
By Ryan Chittum Aug 27, 2014 at 06:50 AM
A year and a half ago, Quartz wrote that “The New York Times paywall has hit a growth wall.” Since then, it’s grown 23 percent.
Now, Re/code writes that “New York Times’s Digital Subscription Growth Story May Be Ending.” It’s true that the Times’ paywall growth is slowing considerably after three and a half excellent years, but it’s not ending just yet.
Re/code’s Edmund Lee reports that a McKinsey study the NYT commissioned before the paywall launch predicted that, in the most optimistic scenario, the Times would top out between 800,000 and 900,000 digital subscribers.
The problem is, the Times already hit the low end of that projection in June with 831,000 paying online readers. And the number of new customers it added in the three months leading up to that point, about 32,000, were mostly for the new NYT Now app, a slimmed-down version of the Times that costs $8 a month. It looks like the McKinsey study got it right.
A four-year-old McKinsey prediction, though, isn’t reason enough to think that the Times will plateau at 900,000 or below. For one, its market is huge and worldwide.
For another, the paywall is still growing at a healthy clip. While its new paywall offerings, NYT Now, NYT Opinion, and NYT Premiere, flopped in the second quarter, the Times’ digital subs were still up 4 percent from the first quarter, while paywall revenue was up 3.5 percent. On a year-over-year basis, digital subs were up 19 percent in the second quarter and paywall revenue was up 13.5 percent. That’s hardly hitting a wall.
Plus, there’s some reason to think there’s seasonality to paywall growth, though it’s too early to tell for sure. The second quarter was the worst quarter of the year in 2012 and 2013:
And the Financial Times is showing that it’s possible to turbocharge subscription growth even with a mature paywall.
At its current pace, the Times is still adding about $20 million a year in digital subscription revenue. It will approach $170 million for all of 2014, and will hit $200 million by 2016, if it can muster 8.5 percent annual growth, which is hardly unrealistic (particularly if it would go ahead and raise prices a quarter a week).
Online revenue alone would not sustain the New York Times as it exists today. If the Times were to become a digital-only newsroom, it’d be a $312 million business, including the $162.9 million in online ads it generated last year. But that’s only 20 percent of its current sales. In other words, a digital-only Times could just support a fifth of its current newsroom, or around 200 journalists.
Lee is right that the Times can’t abandon print yet. But he’s wrong that its digital revenue could only support a newsroom of 200. It costs a lot less to put out a website than it does to print and distribute a print paper to hundreds of thousands of people in dozens of cities. The Times spends several hundred million dollars a year—at least a third of its operating expenses—doing so.
And a digital-only Times would have more than $312 million in revenue. This year it will bring in more than $330 million in digital ads and subscriptions. But it will also have about $90 million from conferences, its news service, and rights fees. Most of that would presumably survive the demise of a print NYT, giving the paper more than $400 million in revenue. That wouldn’t support the Times’ newsroom at its (roughly $200 million) current size, but it would likely support one two-thirds as large.
There’s no reason the Times shouldn’t be able to get at least 5 percent annual growth out of its paywall going forward, through a combination of subscriber growth and price increases. But there’s no way for the NYT to make its numbers work in the medium-to-long-term unless it can post consistent digital ad growth. Digital ads have finally begun to turn around this year, but it needs much faster growth. Easier said than done.
By Dean Starkman Aug 20, 2014 at 06:50 AM
When Al Jazeera, the Qatar-based cable news giant rolled out its massive new American affiliate one year ago, creating a full-force 24-hour cable news channel—800 journalists, several studios, support staff, the works— in a move that drew cheers, skepticism, but mostly puzzlement: why?
Another cable news channel? Aren’t there too many already?
Al Jazeera America’s CEO, Ehab Al Shihabi, an Al Jazeera veteran, has a ready answer. The network would distinguish itself through one thing: its reporting. Let Fox, MSNBC and other wannabes have their opinions. Al Jazeera America would stick to the journalism, the real stuff.
“We have more live news; we are long format; we have a heavy investigative arm,” he said in an interview. “We have more news gathering in under-reported areas… It is one of our competitive advantages, the opportunity that exists. It’s not about having an agenda. It’s not about infotainment. It’s about raising the bar for the quality of journalism.”
The sentiment, heartfelt, and forcefully expressed, is the network’s reason for being, the foundation of its business plan, and the heart of its marketing campaign: “More reporting,” says a typical promo. “More bureaus. More stories. Real reporting from around the world. This is what we do.”
It’s hard to argue with the sentiment. Despite a polarized, often toxic cable landscape drenched in opinion, you’d like to think there is room for boots-on-the-ground, fact-based news gathering—original reporting, what used to be called, “the news.” For a journalist, it’s like arguing against apple pie.
But if there is indeed a market void, Al Jazeera America, or AJAM as it’s known internally, has made little headway in filling it. Its ratings have been tiny to the point of immaterial;—17,000 viewers in primetime this year, jumping to 23,000 during the early days of the Gaza war, compared to an average of 453,000 for CNN and 1.87 million for Fox News. (The figures require a few caveats, which we’ll get to.)
The network laid off more than 60 people in April, puncturing morale and creating a climate of uncertainty, according to current and former staffers. Recently, rumors swirled around the prospect of another round of layoffs, which Al Shihabi says he addressed in a recent staff-wide conference call/meeting, saying layoffs, if any, would amount to no more than 20 people.
Current and former staffers say they find the organization’s commitment to old-school, high-quality journalism inspiring, but that they’re frustrated by the ratings, the absence of a clear digital strategy and the disconnect between the TV product and the Web operation. Right now the two are separate operations—an anomaly among news organizations, which have been strenuously integrating digital with other platforms for years.
“They’re focused on substances,” says a former news employee. “They are committed to covering issues that matter. I was proud to work there. “But, this person says, the operation was designed for a pre-digital era, is not especially innovative, and hasn’t managed to adapt to new ways of getting the word out. “You can’t just say, ‘if we build it they will come….’”
Adding to the murkiness is the fact that the ultimate financial authority for the operation is a faceless group in Doha, the Budget Committee charged with allocating resources at Al Jazeera America’s parent, Al Jazeera Media Network. The whole sprawling organization is underwritten by the government of Qatar.
Even granted that the network is still young—CNN didn’t break through until the first Gulf War, a decade after its launch—a key question is whether AJAM’s visibility problems can be traced to the handicaps the network faces in getting distributed across the country, which are formidable, or whether the journalism itself plays a part.
Al Shihabi insists the problem is the former, and even those critical of the network agree.
“Al Jazeera doesn’t have a content problem,” says the former employee. “It has a distribution problem.”
David Marash, a former
producer correspondent for ABC’s Nightline and anchor for Al Jazeera English, an AJAM predecessor, says that while the new network doesn’t have what he saw as the intellectual ambition of Al Jazeera English, it has handily outperformed its cable news competitors from a journalistic standpoint, particularly in the category of longform and magazine-length documentaries.
“I do think it’s distinguishable from CNN and the totally faux news channels Fox and MSNBC,” says Marash, now the host of a forthcoming interview show on KSFR, a community station in Santa Fe, NM, and the news director there. “There’s an absence of gossip journalism. There’s a higher percentage of news coverage. They do more half-hour documentaries in a month than all their competitors do in a year. The quality of the longform is outstanding, and they’ve got the awards to show for it.”
A couple of days’ spent watching the channel last week bears this out, to some degree, but also highlights some of what might hold them back. The daytime schedule offers what appears to be a fairly standard lineup of news and talk shows, with US-produced shows anchored by US network and cable news veterans Tony Harris, John Seigenthaler, and Joie Chen. It takes a while to realize this is an American production, especially given that shows are sandwiched between Al Jazeera’s main English-language, international show, broadcast from Doha several times a day. The talk shows offer sober fare and steer clear of opinionated rants—Ray Suarez’s Inside Story hosted a discussion on teacher tenure in California; Antonio Mora’s Consider This had experts talking about Gaza, Ukraine, and the like. The Stream, a social-media driven show, tiptoed toward edgy with a segment on homophobia in the NFL, but the discussion, featuring Chris Kluwe, the former punter who just settled a discrimination suit against the Vikings, was substantive and interesting. This week, as if to make up for it, The Stream is taking on poultry inspection.
Still, producing “serious” programming is harder to pull off than rants, and even the best shows didn’t differ too much from something one would see on the PBS News Hour. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but there’s nothing especially original either. And while screaming TV fights are obnoxious, three people sitting around agreeing with each other about climate change;—as they did on the Inside Story talk show on Thursday—is emphatically bland.
The qualitative difference is more apparent in primetime, most obviously with Fault Lines, an investigative half-hour that, when I watched, showed a compelling segment on the bail bonds industry. While the piece broke little new ground, it was riveting TV and was a welcome addition to coverage of the troubled criminal-justice system, which is usually ignored.
The fact that AJAM fields a full-time investigative unit helped the network distinguish itself last week—Fault Lines had already aired a piece about the militarization of local police departments when the Ferguson story exploded from Missouri. Reporter Sebastian Walker’s segment, which focused on a bloody SWAT-type raid gone wrong in LA County, was well done and all-too-relevant.
Ferguson dominated the news the day I watched the most, Thursday (the day Obama spoke about it and the state police were brought in), but even here AJAM’s effort was notable. Its crew was in the thick of things to the point that Ash-har Quraishi, a Chicago-based reporter (the network boasts a dozen US bureaus), and his colleagues were teargassed. Joie Chen flew in from Washington to anchor the network’s flagship program, America Tonight, from Ferguson. But what was most notable was that the network stayed with the story, hour after hour, with standups well past 11pm, while competitors returned to regularly scheduled programming. That said, there was little new to report each hour.
Current and former employees say resources are stretched thin and the latest layoffs didn’t help. One senses that the goal of maintaining a qualitative edge—one that is readily visible to a casual viewer—requires even more resources than are currently available. It’s expensive.
But the biggest threats to the station’s viability are clearly on the business side, with the distribution issues a particular sore point. Al Jazeera Media Network’s decision to enter the US cable market, via the $500 million deal for Al Gore’s Current TV network, saddled AJAM with severe limitations: the network is still only available in about 60 percent of American homes (competitors like CNN are in virtually all of them), often only in premium packages and at unadvantageous positions on the dial (e.g., channels 114 and 614 in Princeton, NJ). Philip Seib, a journalism professor at the University of Southern California and author of The Al Jazeera Effect, says he can’t watch AJAM because Charter Communications, his local cable operator in Pasadena, doesn’t offer it.
Indeed, the Current deal continued to haunt the network last week when Gore himself sued AJAM’s parent for allegedly withholding “tens of millions of dollars” held in escrow.
The network is not widely available in high definition, giving the programming a murky, unpolished veneer compared to competitors (an AJAM spokeswoman says that’s not unusual with cable launches and the problem is being fixed). And just as crucially, its deals with cable operators include onerous restrictions on the amount of free video it can offer online, making impossible the kind of livestreaming that allowed its predecessor, Al Jazeera English, to established a beachhead in the US, particularly among younger viewers. The AJE live stream is no longer available in the US.
The restrictions also make it difficult to imitate the buzz-creating digitally centered distribution strategy deployed by Vice News, whose parent received an investment from Rupert Murdoch’s 21st Century Fox that valued the company at $1.4 billion. Al Jazeera Media Network’s effort to reach younger, digitally minded viewers, AJ+ has yet to catch on.
Al Shihabi, 43, a native of Amman, Jordan, who studied at Georgetown, is candid in discussing the challenges the network faces but adamant that they can be overcome. He acknowledges that the website and TV operations have operated as “silos,” with the digital side providing little marketing oomph for the network. “We are working on this one,” he says. He’s out making the case to cable operators to ease restrictions on video streaming online and to expand into markets where AJAM is not available.
The goal is for the network ultimately to be self-sustaining. And while he doesn’t say how it would happen, he did suggest a timeframe. “I need four years, five years” to build brand awareness to rival that of competitors that have been around—and marketing themselves—for decades (Fox and MSNBC were both launched in 1996; CNN in 1980).
He argues that ratings are misleading given that AJAM is shut out of a large percentage of homes and because the station is so new. Even still, he says there’s progress in this area: AJAM had more than 1.4 million prime viewers over two weeks (100,000 per night) during the Gaza conflict.
Al Shihabi says that while ratings and financial concerns are important, success will also be measured through other metrics, including impact on the public discourse as reflected in social media and elsewhere, and, most crucially, the quality of the journalism.
“We are not about chasing the audience and missing our core values,” he says. “We will stick with our core values. We will stick with the quality. I’m not going to change our core values to chase an audience. No. It’s the other way around. I believe the audience is smart enough to come around.”
By Ryan Chittum Aug 18, 2014 at 11:00 AM
Gannett’s latest Great Leap Forward will go “digital first,” heavily emphasizing metrics to guide coverage. It will have significantly smaller newsrooms with a few more reporters and a lot fewer editors, in part because it is centralizing production work like copyediting and page design in regional hubs. All newsroom jobs have been redefined and current staff must apply for new jobs. And, of course, there are the buzzwords and the chirpy editors’ notes to readers. Assignment editors become “content coaches.” Managing editors are now “content strategists.” A diminished newsroom is a “bold new structure.”
Sound familiar? It’s essentially the do-more-with-less playbook pioneered by Advance Publications, owners of The Times-Picayune, the Cleveland Plain Dealer, and other regional papers. There’s at least one big difference, though, between Gannett’s move and the Advance model. “We don’t have any plans for reducing print,” says Kate Marymont, Gannett’s vice president for news, in an interview.
Maybe not, but the internet does.
The latest move comes as Gannett prepares to hive off its newspapers into a separate company, isolated from its more profitable broadcast and digital properties. Serious cost-cutting has become an annual exercise for Gannett and other newspaper companies in the last several years, as advertising revenue has plunged. With no end in sight to the ad declines, with circulation revenue stalling after a bump from paywalls and all-access plans, and with chain papers soon to be without the cross-subsidy from their higher-margin corporate cousins, the cutting seems destined to continue.
For Gannett, its latest “newsroom of the future” is being piloted at six papers: the Nashville Tennessean, The Indianapolis Star, the Pensacola News Journal, the Asbury Park Press, the Greenville News in South Carolina, and the Asheville Citizen-Times in North Carolina.
In Nashville, The Tennessean recently hired Stefanie Murray,
who served as editor in chief an alum of Advance’s pilot project, AnnArbor.com, as editor, a position it now calls “vice president of content and engagement.” The Tennessean has 89 staff members, who will have to duke it out for 76 new positions. Nevertheless, Murray told readers, “I’m confident you’ll love the end result: we’re promising a stronger, more interesting Tennessean delivered by a highly engaged group of journalists who care about Nashville.”
The number of reporters will increase from 37 to 43, but editors will decline from 17 to 10, and there will be a big emphasis on “scientific principles” to guide coverage. “We’re going to use research as the guide to make decisions and not the journalist’s gut,” Murray told Poynter.
Marymont, Gannett’s VP of news, at least understands that the journalist’s gut is a key part of the equation. “Data is only helpful as to the deeper understanding that you can bring to it,” she says. “We certainly are not looking for clickbait. We’re not trying to drive empty clicks. We’re trying to build loyal returning customers by giving content we know they want by following over period of time.”
But editors are much of the “journalist’s gut” in a newsroom—not to mention the guardians of quality—and editing will be seriously diminished under the new model.
“I think one of the big changes is that as the reporters become more attuned to their metrics and what readers are telling them, and become more expert at analyzing that data,” Marymont says, “the link between reporter and conventional assignment editor isn’t as necessary. Readers become the assignment editor instead of the more conventional assignment editor of the past. We’re converting roles to coaches. They don’t need people looking over their shoulder, they need help growing their storytelling skills. Instead of assignment editors, we’re going to have content coaches.”
What are content coaches, exactly? “In the past, assignment editors had to do lots of things. They had to be writing coach, assigning coach, managing visuals. The coaches then are kind of not assigned to specific reporters. They’re assigned to whatever is their area of expertise. By dividing it this way, we can have specialists who can really, really help improve their game.”
In Indianapolis, the editor is, apparently, still called an “editor,” and he might have benefited from someone looking over his shoulder on his letter to readers. Star boss Jeff Taylor refers to some variation of “expanding” or “increasing” staff 10 times before stuffing this at the bottom:
To accomplish this, we will reduce the number of managers and streamline and reposition some jobs in our production process.
The Star, like The Tennessean, will cut about 15 percent of its newsroom. To learn that, though, we must turn to the Indianapolis Business Journal. The IBJ reports that “the cuts include five of the Star’s 11 photographers and the entire staff of the copy desk.” The 124 staff members will have to reapply for 106 new jobs.
“It’s like we’re getting ready for the Hunger Games,” says one Star staffer. “It’s awful. Worst I can recall.” That’s saying something, since the Star has been through quite a lot. In 2000, it had 275 journalists, a number that will have dropped by 62 percent when the latest layoffs are complete.
“Every job has been redefined,” Marymont says. “That’s why everyone applies for a new job. There are some smaller number of jobs, so not everyone will find a job.”
In Florida, the Pensacola News Journal will have a “patriotism reporter” (salary starting at $25,280), while outsourcing its production to Nashville.
But it’s hard to tell if Gannett papers will have things like city editors and sports editors. “I can’t say every site has a sports editor,” Marymont says. “Some will, some won’t. They have to decide.”
In the Carolinas, Joshua Awtry, who edits one paper in North Carolina and another 62 miles away in South Carolina, was at least admirably forthright in his editor’s letter, putting the layoffs up high. He told CJR’s Corey Hutchins this recently:
To me the future is not about low-hanging fruit and, you know, click-bait’s a trendy word, but click-bait-style headlines … we can do that and we could grow pageviews tomorrow. That’s not what I’m in the game for. I want to make a difference in our community.
Gannett’s papers, of course, have grave problems, like virtually all newspapers. But they’re only going to be exacerbated by yet another round of layoffs. This is a company whose newspapers had $314 million in operating profit last year, a number that will be down significantly this year but will still likely be in the $200 million to $250 million range.
These layoffs will not result in large amounts of savings. The Tennessean, for instance, has 37 reporters right now, who probably cost it about $2 million a year. The entire newsroom payroll will probably be under $5 million, generously assuming average salary and benefits of $65,000.
The new cuts will save the paper a few hundred thousand bucks a year, perhaps. This at a paper that reportedly earns more than $10 million a year.
Plus, Marymont says there will be some hiring at Gannett’s regional production hubs, though she said she didn’t know how much.
In a column a few days ago, the Tennessean’s Murray touted USA Today’s Social Media Tuesdays as an experiment “wherein the staff is able to get information only from social sources.” That would be crazy if it were true. Fortunately, it’s not.
Social Media Tuesdays at USA Today are for acting like readers can only access their stories via Twitter, Facebook, and the like. Reporters are not banned from picking up the phone, getting gum on their shoes, or any of that.
A good copy editor would have caught that one.
By Dean Starkman Aug 11, 2014 at 11:00 AM
When Pierre Omidyar, the eBay billionaire, announced the creation of a news organization featuring, for starters, investigative heavyweight Glenn Greenwald, media expectations were set soaring—even here—and understandably so.
In a disrupted and desiccated landscape for journalism, The Intercept promised something fresh: an accomplished technologist with deep pockets combined with a new-look journalist, Greenwald, a lawyer-turned-blogger who combines world-beating scoops of global importance, like those from the Snowden files, with iconoclastic views on journalism itself.
But at the end of the month, Omidyar and his nascent umbrella organization, First Look Media, announced a reboot: pulling back on plans to develop an omnibus mass-market product with many different sites, and instead trying to build out just Greenwald’s The Intercept, which has reporting on national security and surveillance issues since February, and another site, to be launched in the fall, covering politics, finance, and culture and headed by former Rolling Stone writer Matt Taibbi.
“Nine months in, First Look is Still Very Much a Startup,” says the post’s candid headline.
As it turns out, First Look is grappling with the same fundamental problems facing other news startups across the spectrum—how to make money and how to be distinctive—and, so far, hasn’t had much progress in finding a solution to either.
And here we should disclose that CJR gets funding from Omidyar via his philanthropic Democracy Fund.
When First Look was announced in January with a sleek animated video, the organization described an expansive operation that would include an omnibus flagship publication that would cover everything from politics to sports to culture, along with a flotilla of magazines led by prominent journalists covering specific subjects. The video promised an extensive support system not unlike those provided by mainstream media in its heyday, along with a separate technology company that would explore ways to turn journalism “innovation into commercial opportunities.”
In an interview, John Temple, recently hired with the title of president of audience and products of First Look, reporting to Omidyar, says the company has a committee working on a business model but that process is just getting started and isn’t necessarily the first priority.
“The critical measure of our success is whether we’re making a difference; are we having an impact, are we helping our society and holding powerful institutions accountable—that’s a significant and important measure of success,” he says. “The business model is important to us…. [but] it’s just too early.”
Indeed the company is still just getting organized. Far-flung, even for a new media-concern, First Look is building out office space in San Francisco, New York’s Flatiron District, and smaller office in Washington. It’s not based in any particular place. “We don’t need a headquarters quite yet,” says Temple, who works from San Francisco. Greenwald works, famously, from Rio de Janeiro,, Poitras from Berlin, and Omidyar from Honolulu. The bulk of the editorial team will be housed in New York.
The company employs about 45 people, Temple says, including 25 on the editorial side, the latter number expected to double by the end of the year.
A spokeswoman declines to comment on the progress of the technology venture described in the video.
The organization is still amorphous—“we don’t actually use an organizational chart internally; I don’t have a business card,” Temple says—but the editorial hierarchy shapes up this way.
“The Intercept” is edited by former Gawker editor John Cook, who oversees three “founding editors,” Greenwald, Laura Poitras, the documentarian and collaborator with Greenwald on the Snowden stories, and Jeremy Scahill, a national security specialist, formerly with The Nation; as well as the rest of the staff of about 10 others including former Washington Post blogger Dan Froomkin and Peter Maass, a national security specialist and war correspondent.
Cook reports to Eric Bates, a former Rolling Stone editor who holds the title of executive editor of First Look, as will Taibbi, who worked with Bates at Rolling Stone and has begun assembling a staff for his as-yet unnamed publication.
Bates in turn reports to Temple, as does a second executive editor in charge of audience and engagement, Bill Gannon.
A business side staff including a chief revenue officer and business development chief also report to Temple on some issues. For now the structure is made up of interlocking committees studying various issues, including technology, and business models, all of which include Temple.
Temple was brought on as a specialist in startups and in reaching local audiences. A Vancouver, British Columbia, native, he worked his way up the former EW Scripps chain to senior newsroom positions at the now-defunct Albuquerque Tribune, where he was managing editor, and the Rocky Mountain News where he ran the newsroom, started a couple of civic journalism ventures, and was a company vice president with business-side responsibilities. After the paper folded in 2009, Temple was consulting in Las Vegas for Brian Greenspun, of
First Look’s early going has been fitful, as Omidyar’s blog post acknowledges. One staffer tells me the organization has indeed been suffering “growing pains,” but says morale is high and credits Temple with “speeding things up, which is great.”
For a half-launched startup, the site has drawn more than the usual amount of criticism, for everything from advancing a neoliberal, privatizing agenda, to potentially pulling its punches, to not publishing enough.
But more generally, there’s a sense that First Look has so far failed to live up to sky-high expectations.
The criticism is somewhat the result of circumstances beyond the editors’ control: Snowden files that needed to be published before the site was fully ready to launch. It’s certainly not a bad problem to have, journalistically, but as a result, the Intercept has published only sporadically, offering a mix of left-of-center commentary on national security and surveillance issues punctuated by a few superb blockbusters from the Snowden files and other sources.
Temple pointed to pieces of such importance that The New York Times and other sources were compelled to follow the site. The most recent, revealing the alarmingly expansive nature the government’s anti-terrorism database, provided so much detail that the story prompted the government to conclude that the Intercept had tapped a second whistleblower to complement Snowden. Indeed the story generated a separate a mini-controversy over whether intelligence PR officials had leaked it to Associated Press first to spoil the Intercept’s scoop.
But periodic blockbusters, while a boon to the public interest, don’t add up to a cohesive editorial offering or provide the basis for a media business.
In part, the letdown is a problem of First Look’s own making, starting with the animated video that laid out sweeping, and laudable, goals while offering the vaguest notions of how they would be accomplished. Nine months in, that hasn’t changed.
And while finding a business model is a distant prospect, First Look is struggling with a more immediate problem: defining how its (occasionally great) journalism differs from that of other (occasionally great) reporting from high-end mainstream outlets like, say, The Washington Post, which shared the 2014 Public Service Pulitzer with the Guardian, Greenwald’s previous outlet, for breaking the Snowden revelations. Indeed, aside from the occasional edginess of word choice, the Intercept’s best work is distinctive mainly for its great reporting and solid writing. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But the question remains: what innovation does the Intercept represent? And is the concept of journalism innovation overdone in the first place and shouldn’t sustained excellence be enough?
After Omidyar’s recent post pulling back on the project’s ambitions, Jay Rosen, the NYU prof and a consultant to First Look, said in a comment to a post on his blog that Omidyar’s recent pullback shouldn’t be surprising.
“The kind of moves you see in Omidyar’s update are the way it’s going to be for a while as First Look tries to develop a distinctive approach that can work,” wrote Rosen, who declined comment to me. “It’s harder to be distinctive than it looks.”
By Ryan Chittum Aug 11, 2014 at 09:43 AM
It’s hard to recall a spate of media deconsolidation like the one in recent months, as companies shed their publishing divisions.
Time Warner unloaded its magazine division, Time Inc. Meantime, Tribune spun off its newspapers, as has News Corporation, with EW Scripps, Journal Communications, and now Gannett planning to follow suit soon. The Grahams sold the Washington Post and kept their education and TV businesses. The New York Times Company has done the reverse in recent years, selling About.com and its Red Sox stake to focus on its namesake paper.
There will be no cross-subsidization for these newspapers and magazines, much less synergy. Indeed, some executives couldn’t resist milking their erstwhile cash cows one last time on the way out.
Tribune Media is the worst of the bunch in that respect. It loaded up its struggling newspapers with debt to pay itself a special $325 million dividend, kept their real estate, and then spun them off without their stake in lucrative digital classified businesses. These are moves straight from the private-equity asset-stripping playbook—something akin to kicking grandpa out of the house when he gets sick and then running up his credit cards.
Time Warner sent off Time Inc. with its stable of magazines and an unnecessarily high $1.3 billion in debt, roughly half of which went to a special dividend. Never mind the billions of dollars in cash the magazines had sent to the mothership over the decades.
Gannett’s newspapers will start debt-free, which is the least that company could do after bleeding them dry for decades. But they won’t get the benefit of the digital classified businesses that helped offset the obliteration of a key print revenue source. Those will go into the new broadcast company.
Rupert Murdoch comes off looking like a saint here, of all things. He spun off News Corp.’s publishing arm with no debt and a whopping $2 billion in cash. The new Journal Media Group, formed with Scripps and Journal Communications papers, will have no debt but just $10 million in cash. It’s unclear what cash, if any, Gannett’s papers will get.
In a sense it’s surprising it’s taken this long for newspapers to be tossed overboard. They’ve been irksome to executives who tend to be focused above all else on growing earnings per share and overall revenue. Investors tend to want growth or at least stable, predictable profits—they’re not much interested in declining assets with uncertain futures. Even if papers figure out a digital revenue source that staunches revenue declines, it’s hard to imagine these ever being businesses with serious growth potential. The monopolies are now in Silicon Valley, and journalism doesn’t scale like Facebook.
All of these new companies are still profitable, largely because they’ve cut costs so dramatically. You can’t cut your way to growth, though, and it’s unclear if these companies will have the cash to invest in many new opportunities.
Tribune Publishing, for instance, earned $94 million on $1.8 billion in revenue last year, a profit margin of just 5 percent that nevertheless was its highest in at least four years. The stock market is valuing it at a price-to-earnings ratio of just 6.3 (the market median P/E is above 20), which essentially means investors expect profits to continue to decline, which would be a good bet. Put another way, the price tag of Tribune’s papers is now $533 million. That’s for the Los Angeles Times, Chicago Tribune, Baltimore Sun, Orlando Sentinel, and four other major dailies.
On Wall Street, there’s been a big move away from conglomerates in the last couple of decades, the idea being that there are people who want to invest in Cheez Whiz, for instance, but who don’t want to invest in Chesterfields. Apparently, there’s a hardy band of investors out there who will plunk their money into legacy publishing stocks but who don’t want more stable broadcast assets.
Call them value investors or call them crazy, only time will tell.
One of the biggest media stories in history was right in front of Nick Davies, and he almost missed it
By Ryan Chittum Aug 7, 2014 at 07:00 AM
Hack Attack: How the Truth Caught Up with Rupert Murdoch
By Nick Davies
Chatto & Windus
In 2008, Nick Davies put out a book arguing that the British press had become passive conduits of propaganda and public relations. It was the serious newspapers and broadcasters that concerned him then. “Nobody needs a book to tell them that tabloids are an unreliable source of information about the world,” he wrote, relegating to an afterthought his reporting that tabloids were hiring snoops who broke the law to get information. One of the biggest media stories in history was right in front of him, and Davies almost missed it.
Hack Attack is Davies’s account of how he finally nailed it, following the story all the way inside Scotland Yard, News Corporation, and 10 Downing Street.
This book is a major achievement: A master class in investigative journalism made all the more fascinating by the wealth of color that’s like something from another era. One reporter snorts coke with high-end prostitutes to build up sources and expenses it, at his editors’ urging. Another gets the nickname Onan the Barbarian after trying to con nudists into performing sex acts and is videotaped in his own. Charlie the Sniffer Dog, whom the Sun uses to find drugs on celebrities, causes a panic when someone lets him into the paper’s own newsroom. We learn of a one-armed blagger (someone who gets someone’s private information by pretending to be that person) called Mickey the Mouse, a corrupt cop named “Drunken” Duncan Hanrahan, and a feline-obsessed phone tapper who changed his name to Phil Catt.
Then there are the details we already knew about (thanks mostly to Davies’s reporting in The Guardian) but which still have the power to shock: The private eye and axe-murder suspect rehired by News of the World after leaving prison for planting cocaine on a woman, and the paper’s subsequent interference with cops investigating him for his partner’s axe murder. The hacking and blagging of the royal family, the prime minister, and national security officials. The blatant destruction of evidence, with News Corp. executives ordering the deletion of hundreds of millions of old emails, as Davies and lawyers representing hacking victims close in. The overt payoffs to key witnesses, and the lucrative columns given to top Scotland Yard officials responsible for the pitiful initial investigation. The 2007 hiring of Andy Coulson, shortly after he resigned in disgrace as editor of News of the World, as spokesman for the Tories, and his ascent to 10 Downing Street three years later. And, of course, there is Milly Dowler. The murdered 13 year old’s phone messages were hacked by the News of the World, which withheld potentially critical information from the police while it chased the story.
The stories that prompted this systematic lawbreaking weren’t exactly Watergate material, either: “Bonking headmaster … Dirty vicar … Miss World bonks sailor … Witchdoctor … TV love child … Junkie flunkie,” read the slugs in one hacker’s files.
It was a sociopathic culture. “You are going to do things that no sane man would do,” one tabloid journalist told Davies. “You’re in a machine. Everyone was drinking everyone’s blood.”
What Davies did not yet know when he wrote Flat Earth News was that the criminal activity on Fleet Street, and the failure of authorities to fully confront it, revealed a rottenness at the core of Britain’s most powerful institutions, caused largely by fear of a foreigner who controlled 40 percent of the country’s newspaper circulation and its largest pay TV network.
“The mogul, for the most part, does not have to make threats or issue instructions… If there’s a bull in the field, everybody steps carefully,” Davies writes. “The fear gives him access; the access, gives him influence. Real power is passive.” There was never a better argument against media consolidation.
It was in promoting Flat Earth News that Davies got tuned in to the hacking scandal. In early 2008, he went head to head on the BBC’s “Today” program with News of the World managing editor Stuart Kuttner, who insisted that an earlier episode in which his employees had hacked the royal family and gone to jail, had been a one-off incident. That was false, and it angered a listener who knew better. That source phoned up Davies, met him in a London hotel room, and told him that not only was it not true but that Scotland Yard had failed miserably to investigate the extent of the hacking. Davies, now had a tabloid story worth pursuing.
It wasn’t until more than a year later that Davies nailed down enough information to publish his first piece, “Murdoch papers paid £1 million to gag phone-hacking victims.” The pushback was immediate and fierce. Scotland Yard claimed the report was false and would go on covering up the truth for years. Rebekah Brooks warned darkly about Guardian Editor Alan Rusbridger’s (nonexistent) “love child”, and The Times of London, Murdoch’s respectable paper, threatened to run a story accusing Rusbridger of paying for hacking. The rest of the press largely ignored the news or jumped on Scotland Yard’s denial. Davies and Rusbridger were hauled before Parliament for a grilling.
Stonewalled by the police and by News Corp. and helped none at all by the rest of the press, Davies became an activist for his story, passing burner phones to skittish sources, urging hacking victims to sue and others not to settle (News Corp. offered big money to pay off anyone who got close to disclosing key documents in court), sharing information with The New York Times and others to get them to do stories, and plotting with members of parliament and plaintiff’s attorneys to force documents into the open. He eventually found someone who offered to bankroll the legal efforts of several victims: Max Mosley, the Formula One chief who held a grudge against Murdoch and the News of the World for reporting on his cavorting with prostitutes.
Much of this would be verboten by American newspaper standards, of course, which generally forbid reporters from becoming active participants in a story, but it’s unclear if Davies would have been able to get the story otherwise. Regardless, the import of the story and the extent of the coverup clearly justified extraordinary measures.
In the end, it was the Dowler story that blew the scandal wide open. Murdoch shut down the News of the World and lost a multibillion-dollar bid to increase his stranglehold over British media. News Corp. paid out hundreds of millions of dollars in settlements to its victims, and several of its journalists are now convicts. Politicians were finally freed to condemn Murdoch, and for a time it seemed as if the spell had been broken.
But Murdoch still exercises inordinate clout, as evidenced by the overwhelming legal firepower he deployed to get Rebekah Brooks, who oversaw two newsrooms roiling with crime and then covered it up, acquitted of all charges. His son, James Murdoch, has not been charged in the coverup. As with many corporate scandals, the people at the top are insulated from prosecution by plausible deniability. Andy Coulson falls, but Rupert Murdoch is richer than ever and bidding to become even more powerful.
You can’t blame Davies for that. He’s done as much as one journalist can possibly do.
Why the ad technology revolution that was supposed to help publishers actually devastated so many of them
By Steven Waldman Aug 6, 2014 at 06:50 AM
Back in antiquity (five years ago), when I ran a popular Web 1.0 content site called Beliefnet, we used to cockily predict to investors that our advertising rates were going to rise every year. We knew this because the prestigious market researchers told us so. And their logic seemed flawless: More and more ad dollars were going to shift online, and improved ad targeting technology would improve CPMs.
We all know why the first trend didn’t lead to a windfall for publishers (the money did move online, but most of it went to Google, Facebook, and Yahoo). But why haven’t ad tech improvements provide a windfall for most content publishers?
The answer is a revolution in how advertisers view the importance of what content is surrounding their ads. Many advertisers now care more about who sees their ads than where they appear. Context no longer matters so much.
That poses huge problems for publishers who invest in costly forms of content creation (sometimes known as “reporting”)—and it partly explains the escalating acceptance of native advertising. Debates have intensified about the pros and cons of native—a study this month showed that native risks harming publishers’ brands—but it’s worth understanding how publishers got into this position.
For most of modern media history, advertisers spent with a media outlet for two reasons: to reach a certain type of person and to have their brand rub up against the publication’s brand.
For the first goal, it was an inexact science. If your pimple cream wanted to reach, say, 17-year-old teenage girls, you’d advertise in Mademoiselle. If your local hardware store wanted to reach middle-age guys in town, you advertised in the newspaper. Truth is, it was pretty inefficient for advertisers, since they were also paying for the many other readers of the newspapers who didn’t care much about lawn care. But it was the only option advertisers had.
The publications could tell themselves that the advertisers wanted to be alongside the great content, but really advertisers were mostly viewing context as a proxy for reach.
Of course the internet blew up that formula: Advertisers can target their ads to particular demographics with precision.
At first, it seemed this targeting might be fine for publishers. For instance, in the early days of Beliefnet, we could charge pharmaceutical advertisers more for the health section than the religion section of the site on the assumption that the readers of health content were more sickly. And we could target health-content readers even as they went to other parts of the site. Sure, it created perverse incentives for us to produce twice as much health content as religion content, which was awkward since we were, well, a religion website. But it worked for a while.
Then technology evolved further in a way that proved harmful to publishers.
Google got better and better at providing advertisers the audience they wanted based on search results, obviating the need for many advertisers to place banners on websites. Facebook did the same.
Then came the birth of programmatic ad buying, which meant that advertisers could reach their precise target audience with little regard to where the ads appeared. Using a variety of technology, programmatic buying enables advertisers to find the cheapest, most cost-effective inventory, including with “real-time bidding.” Now, an advertiser goes to an agency and says, I’d like the best possible rate for reaching 25-year-old single men, and the agency will provide them with inventory throughout the entire internet. The key is getting the best possible rate. They can basically scour the Web—where volume continues to grow rapidly—for the cheapest way to reach that type of person.
That’s not to say that advertisers don’t want to reach certain types of readers. But a marketer can now reach “New York Times readers” without ever actually advertising in The New York Times, and for less money than sending a check to the Gray Lady.
The result is that all this great new targeting technology has put downward pressure on ad rates for publishers.
This is all a bit strange for anyone who experienced the old ad system in which advertisers were hyper sensitive about what content was going to be adjacent to their ad. Newsmagazines had to be careful not to put upbeat ads next to disaster coverage. At Beliefnet, we had Christian advertisers request that their ads not appear in the Wiccan section. (We used to joke that we should charge them more to appear in non-Christian areas since they might rack up some religious conversions over there).
Now, all sorts of well-preserved brands have their ads appearing in all sorts of second-rate places. And they don’t seem to care! Many advertisers don’t know where their ads appear.
The main response from publishers has been native advertising. In effect, native ads can be seen as a last-ditch effort on the part of publishers to make context relevant again. Advertorials, after all, have to be alongside other pieces of content to work well.
Tragically, too many publishers have deployed native to make it seem that the ads are editorial content, not merely physical companions. In dropping standards so rapidly, publishers have ended up trading the one thing they had left—their credibility with readers—for a few scraps of CPM.
Is it hopeless? To be sure, there are some publishers who still manage to pull off the traditional pitch about the value of being next to good content. Being in Vanity Fair still rubs your brand with both panache and scratch-and-sniff fragrance. And publishers are valiantly trying to convince advertisers that their ads will really, truly be more effective if they’re on high quality sites. Some big media companies are trying fight fire with fire by creating “premium programmatic exchanges,” which might prop up rates for a bit.
There is also, believe it or not, a public policy remedy. The programmatic buying relies on the ability of ad tech firms to freely cookie users without them knowing how their information is being used. If content creators had united politically, they could have pushed the Federal Trade Commission to impose proper right-to-know disclosure rules that would have benefited consumers and, as a side effect, helped content publishers.
Some companies have gotten so good at generating pageviews cost-effectively—using social media, user generated content, aggregation, photo galleries, etc.—that they outrun the declining ad rates by increasing their ad volume. Alas, that doesn’t work so well for companies that are trying to invest in, say, local reporting or other types of labor- intensive techniques.
Perhaps some new technology will develop to shift power back to publishers. But mostly it means that media businesses that want to invest some money in high quality original content are going to need to develop other revenue streams in addition to or instead of advertising.
The digital revolution has made it possible for advertisers to become more efficient in how to spend their money. Damn.
By Ryan Chittum Jul 29, 2014 at 03:00 PM
The New York Times’ expanded paywall offerings are off to a poor start, and its three-year run of higher circulation revenue may be at an end.
The Times’ digital-subscription strategy has been a huge success since it launched in March 2011, tallying 799,000 subscribers by the end of last month. But the high growth rates for the $195-a-year product, which have saved the paper’s bacon, were leveling off, while print circulation continued to dwindle and digital ads went backward. The Times needed a new source of growth.
So the paper launched NYT Now and NYT Opinion last quarter to try to goose digital subscriptions with cheaper offerings, and it debuted Times Premier to get more revenue from some existing subscribers. It didn’t really work.
The Times added just 32,000 subscribers in the second quarter and increased paywall revenue by $1.4 million, or 4 percent. Its costs, meanwhile, increased by $18 million, driven by investment in its digital products, including the new apps.
Here’s Times CEO Mark Thompson’s statement on the results:
But, while we expected the portfolio to take time to build, we want to accelerate the rate of growth in subscription sales, so over the coming months, we will refine some of the offers and the way we market the portfolio to accomplish this.
That’s executive-speak for “it was a bust.”
It’s true that its gain was better than it would have been without the expanded offerings, which the Times says accounted for most of the 32,000 new subscriptions.
And some of this is seasonal. The second quarter has historically been the Times’ weakest period for digital-subscription growth, as this chart shows:
But the Times is projecting flat circulation revenue for the third quarter, despite a hike in print delivery prices. That signals that the paper has raised print prices as far as they can go, at least for now. The revenue gains from those price increases aren’t overcoming the circulation declines, and digital gains aren’t enough to make up for it.
The Times’ digital-subscription growth looks particularly weak coming days after the Financial Times reported enormous digital-subscriber gains, and paid digital circulation now more than doubles its print circulation. The FT, whose pioneering meter (which lets readers see several stories a month for free before erecting the paywall) is nearly seven years old, saw its digital subscriptions jump 33 percent to 455,000. The NYT’s digital-subscriber count was up 19 percent from a year ago, despite the addition of low-cost products.
Here’s FT.com managing director Rob Grimshaw talking to The Audit’s Dean Starkman last month:
The gain on subscription side has been enormous, because what we found was, as soon as we pushed hard on this, and we turned the dials on the model to the point where many people were coming up to barriers, a lot of people went through, and more than that, they were happy to come through at price points that were far above what any of us had anticipated.
The NYT may well be able to tweak its model and increase subscribers more substantially. But these products aren’t likely to be major sources of growth. A better bet, and one the Times still hasn’t taken for some reason, is to experiment with pricing its core subscriptions. It needs to raise the cost of digital subscriptions, at least to cover inflation.
The good news for the Times is that digital ads are heading in the right direction again. They were up 3 percent last quarter. That’s not enough, but it continues the turnaround that started last quarter after two years of declines.
Why one editor won’t run any more op-eds by the Heritage Foundation’s top economist - A reply to Paul Krugman on state taxes and job growth made some incorrect claims
Is ISIS a faith-based terrorist group? - Journalists and scholars disagree about how much Islam, rather than politics and power, drives Muslim extremists
Why Bill Simmons might leave ESPN - Other outlets would jump at the chance to gain his following
Why news organizations are abandoning the Redskins - The media mostly avoids Washington’s football team name
Email blasts from CJR writers and editors
Whoever nets the most before retirement wins a free lunch
Poop and Pooches. That is all
Useful resources for journalists
“This video suggests that organized crime is trying to buy off journalists, creating a new brand of narco-journalism”
Greg Marx discusses democracy and news with Tom Rosenstiel of the American Press Institute
Who Owns What
A report from the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism
Questions and exercises for journalism students.