Harbour Spiel Online

January 2016 editorial: The Chinese wall in my head

By Brian Lee

The recent difference of opinion between VISTA Radio (CKAY) news director Sean Eckford and his bosses highlights a tenet of journalism often underappreciated by consumers of news. Eckford took a principled stand (he quit) when it was suggested his newsroom help peddle advertising.

As news gathering transitions into a new model, we hear about mounting pressures to cut costs. One tantalizing target is the Chinese wall that insulates journalists from their sales colleagues. Without this separation, those responsible for accurately reporting news stories could be seen as collaborating with those whose sole job is to make money for the company. In other words, sales people might exert pressure on how or what stories appear.

If allowed, business priorities can creep into the newsroom in any number of ways and newspaper publishers recognized long ago that if readers didn’t trust the source, they wouldn’t consume the product. So, promoting credibility and integrity in the industry makes good business sense. But is that the case anymore?

Vista Radio is not alone in its attempt to circumvent this principle. Across the media landscape, the line between advertising and journalistic content is getting fuzzier. Though not alone, BC Business magazine is a good local example. It was once a respectable source of business news but now seems especially intent on blurring the edges between news and "promoted content" (a deceptive marketing tag for "advertorial"). There’s not that much reliable content left in the publication and what remains is tainted by the excessive volume of promotional copy.

But who am I to talk? One of the most egregious examples of an unholy union between business and journalism exists here in the Harbour Spiel. I hold a unique position as editor, reporter, sales manager and publisher. The only thing resembling a Chinese wall here is in my head and it poses a constant challenge.

Unlike Eckford, I have the ultimate authority to resist business pressures but also the undeniable temptation to bend to them. One of the ways I cope has been to all but ignore marketing the business in order to apply limited resources to the editorial side of the paper. It’s partly from necessity — there isn’t time to do both jobs well — but it’s also from a belief that a quality paper will draw more readers and that will attract advertising organically.

I also say "no," a lot. Telling your clients they are not always right doesn’t get you very far in any business. But despite many opportunities for conflict, advertisers in this paper have (almost) always understood when I’ve explained why a two-for-one promotion isn’t appropriate for page four’s "Spiel Picks" column. Or why I can’t back off a story because it makes them uncomfortable. It’s not an ideal situation but it has taken the Spiel this far — and despite plenty of missteps, not a single staffer has quit in protest.

 

Harbour Spiel January 2016 issue

Download Harbour Spiel January 2016 issue

December editorial: 25 years ain't so long

 

By Brian Lee

One of the smothering realities of punching this thing out every month is that there’s very little time to peer farther ahead than the next deadline. I hold that up as my excuse for not doing more for the Harbour Spiel’s 25th birthday. The 300th issue is a significant milestone that, had I more time, deserves nothing short of flying in Lil’ Wayne and Beyonce for an A-list wingding at the community hall. Maybe I’ll save that for the 30th.

In December 1990, Myrtle Winchester mailed out a Christmas greeting on two letter-sized pieces of photocopied paper. She called it the Upcoast Journal but for reasons explained in her next issue (see p. 20), she changed it to its present name. The first issue of the Harbour Spiel was mailed in February of 1991. Math whizzes will note the 300th issue should land in January but one month was missed in 2003 when Winchester was undergoing medical treatment.

For a publication so reliant on a single person to push it out the door each month, that too is significant. Because of back spasms and crashed hard drives, I too have come close to missing an issue, but have managed to squeak through so far. I’m proud of my record but am humbled by the fact that I’m still six years away from Winchester’s 15 and haven’t even had my first heart attack.

When I took over the Spiel in 2006, that 15 years seemed like an incredibly long time. Since then I’ve come to appreciate how change creeps up almost imperceptibly, sometimes taking decades to reveal patterns of progress. So it is with this place.

Muriel Cameron still organizes bingo at the hall on Thursday nights, Sunny Charbonneau still cuts hair, Bill Hunsche still peddles real estate and Egmonsters still go without cable. And despite large numbers of new residents arriving since 2000, our year-round population still charts flat. We’re a community that once feared that too many newcomers could destroy what is unique about Pender Harbour and Egmont. I like to think that wariness of newcomers explains why so few stick around long enough to shed the tag.

But the sky didn’t fall. The people that landed here during the last real estate boom have not only fit in but revitalized many volunteer organizations that form the core of our community. Richness of experience has finally trumped the number of years planted here and the latter doesn’t seem as relevant anymore.

Yes, our community has changed since the first issue of the Harbour Spiel but read through it (see p. 19) and you’ll probably recognize something familiar too. The activism, responsibility and community concern voiced by residents reads like recent times. There’s some history, neighbourly thank yous, a call for what would later become GRIPS and an announcement that Centre Hardware is changing to Taffy’s clothing store. If you jump back 25 years and consider the accomplishments yet to come, a pattern does emerge. And it seems we’ll be just fine.

 

Harbour Spiel December 2015 issue

Download Harbour Spiel December 2015 issue