The Hard [But Good] Lesson

I thought for a while there I was going to be fired.

In August 1960, barely two months into my newspaper career, I wrote what newspaper people call a “color” story on a Southeastern Regional Babe Ruth tournament game – Ocala, Florida vs. Charlotte, North Carolina. The game had ended with a controversial strike three call against a Florida player and the home team won, 3-2.

The coach of the visiting team was pretty mad. He told me that the home plate umpire was a “blind man” who had committed “highway robbery.”

You tell Charlotte,” the Florida coach said, “to keep that umpire and they’ll win the World Series.”

I wrote a story for The Charlotte News in which I quoted the Florida coach and identified the blind robber as Ronald Flie.   But, it turned out, Mr. Flie wasn’t a blind robber. The umpire behind the plate that day was another man named Bob Moore.

Yow!

Umpires are called bad names all the time but not like that, not when they weren’t even in the game.

* * *

The retraction.
The retraction.

My boss, Sports Editor Bob Quincy, was out town so, next day, the other guys had to make the call. They decided to retract the story, which is not the same thing as a “correction.”  I think a retraction was overboard but, whatever.   Let’s just say they erred on the side of caution.

The day after that Quincy The Terrible  came back and, after the first edition deadline, he called everyone over to his desk.  He was steaming.

Bob Myers, sports writer at The News, my first mentor. That's "Hoss" Harris on the right.
Bob Myers, sports writer at The News, my first mentor. That’s “Hoss” Harris on the right.

The error was mine and mine alone, but Quincy did not say one word to me.  I guess I was just too far down on the totem pole for him to mess with.   Instead, he went after Bob Myers, who had covered the game and who, Quincy said, should have kept me out of trouble.

How could Myers have done that?  I have no idea.

Bob Quincy
Bob Quincy

Quincy didn’t like that retraction either.  He said they should have corrected my error in the next day’s tournament story and moved on.  That, in my opinion, would have been too little — we should have just run a correction.

That error turned out to be one of those blessings in disguise — I never forgot that sick feeling it gave me. Over time, especially when I began doing investigative work and dinging people on a regular basis, I became a fanatic about accuracy. I am not saying I never made another mistake.  I did.  But not often.

NOTE:  I was so lucky to have started out on the sports desk of The Charlotte News. It was a small staff, only five guys, but they were all good ones. Three of them were later inducted into what is known now as the N.C. Media and Journalism Hall of Fame: Max Muhleman, Ronald Green Sr. and Quincy, posthumously in 2005.   How I wish Bob had lived — he and I were inducted on the same night.

Coming Friday: Studying for the GED

 

 

 

 

Two Was The Limit

The newsroom in Charlotte, where I started my newspaper career in 1960, had a couple of white women news reporters and copy editors but no women line editors outside of the “Woman’s Page,” the section devoted to food, clothes, and lightweight features.

There were no back editors or reporters anywhere on the news staff and I don’t recall any other other minorities employed in the newsroom. It was a white man’s world.

When a black person was named in a news story he or she was identified as “a Negro.”

There were unwritten rules, too.

Willie Mays made the National League All Star team 20 times.
Willie Mays was selected to the National League All Star team 20 times.

Willie Mays, “The Say Hey Kid,” was in the last half of a fabulous baseball career when I graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and went to work full time for The Charlotte News in June 1966. He had led both major leagues in home runs in 1964 [47 ] and 1965 [52] and won the National League’s MVP trophy in ’65.

But a Charlotte News sports writer told me the sports department had been told not publish Mays’ picture more than twice a week no matter how many home runs he hit.

Mays, as anyone who follows baseball knows, was black.

NOTE1: I checked. Mays’ photo was published in The Charlotte News 17 times during the 24-week 1965 season, from opening day on April 12 to the last day of the season on Oct. 3.  But never more than twice in one week.

NOTE2: When I retired in 2008 a black man was publisher of my newspaper, The News & Observer.

Coming Friday: Just In Time