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CJRColumbia Journalism Review

September/October 1992 | Contents

HOW THEY WATCH WASHINGTON

Newspapers are revamping the way their bureaus cover the inside-the-beltway beat

by Dom Bonafede
Dom Bonafede, an associate professor of journalism at American University in Washington, D.C., is a former reporter for The Miami Herald, the New York Tribune, Newsweek, and National Journal.

When Arthur Krock took over as head of The New York Times Washington bureau in 1932 with the title "the Washington correspondent," he had serious misgivings about it, and, as he states in his memoirs, "I arranged to stay at my post only during the sessions of Congress." Actually, that was the practice of most Washington correspondents at the time, since the nation's capital was not considered a desirable city for sophisticates.

Two years later, however, Krock moved permanently to Washington and set about reorganizing the bureau, which included twenty-four reporters who covered whatever struck their fancy, often duplicating each other's efforts. Krock appointed a copy editor and established specific beats for individual reporters, thus creating a structural prototype for Washington newspaper bureaus.

During this period, mostly in response to ominous events abroad and Franklin D. Roosevelt's radical New Deal legislation, publishers dispatched additional correspondents to Washington. The bureaus soon became a visible presence. Following World War II, bureau chiefs were striding the corridors of government with the hauteur of Medici princes.

Then, in the '60s, television began to dominate the scene, relegating the capital's print press to the back benches. Since then, publishers and editors have been constantly brainstorming to define and redefine the missions of their Washington bureaus.

Now, with the fading of the golden age of network television news, many Washington newspaper bureaus are enjoying a revival -- this despite a recession that has forced most of them to impose a hiring freeze and cut back on travel.

Not long ago, conventional wisdom held that Americans were surfeited with news from Washington. In fact, it seems that what people were objecting to was not the amount of news they were getting but the kind of news. In interviews with more than a dozen Washington bureau chiefs, all sounded a similar refrain -- editors back home didn't want less news, but less routine news, from the capital.

"They want fewer turns-of-wheel, government-gears-grinding, who's-up-and-who's-down stories," says Clark Hoyt, Knight-Ridder's bureau chief. "They want stories about government policies and decisions that really affect people, like regulation of cable TV, family leave, tax changes, consumer and health issues, demographic and social changes that tell who we are as a people."

Chuck Lewis, Hearst Newspapers' bureau chief, says Hearst editors don't look kindly on "he said" stories. "We try to do point of view stories, such as 'Bush looks like a rattled campaigner.' We don't want to be stenographers; we want to put impact and meaning into stories."

Noting that many readers beyond the Potomac aren't interested in Washington political minutia, Newsday bureau chief Gaylord Shaw commented, "We try to think about what interests people on Long Island and in New York City. So much goes on here that affects people's lives, their pocketbooks, and personal safety -- that's what we try to write about."

To analyze and investigate governmental action on social, cultural, and scientific issues, as well as to report regular political, foreign, and economic developments, the bureaus are increasingly focusing on issues rather than buildings. "We have one reporter, for example, who focuses on competitiveness," says Al Hunt, chief of The Wall Street Journal's bureau. "Stories today are much more complicated. Issues like the budget deficit, international trade, and federal regulation are more demanding."

Howell Raines, The New York Times's Washington editor, as the paper's bureau chief is called these days, says the trend at his shop is toward more analytical stories that are tightly written and reflect an intellectual component. Formerly, he adds, a greater premium was placed on expertise than on writing, but now "we look for the complete correspondent."

At the Newhouse Newspapers bureau, Deborah Howell (the only woman to head a major newspaper bureau in Washington) has completely revamped the beats. They include religion, ethics, and morality; children, family, and education; race relations; and social trends and legal issues, including violent crime. Reporters also cover traditional beats, such as the White House, Congress, and politics (including "the business of politics," meaning the involvement of pollsters, consultants, fundraisers, and other professional campaign mercenaries). A "resident humorist" is also on the staff.

Explaining her reorganization scheme, Howell, who was formerly editor of the St. Paul Pioneer Press, says, "I knew I couldn't compete with The New York Times or The Washington Post. It just didn't make sense. I wanted to carve a niche for ourselves, do things no one else is doing, cover areas others are not covering."

At the Los Angeles Times bureau, Jack Nelson has taken a notable step into the electronic age by adding computer specialist Dwight Morris to his staff. Morris has developed a database on defense industry political contributions and is investigating campaign finance violations.

Cox Newspapers, under bureau chief Andy Glass, has been set up as a "service organization" for the chain's seventeen newspapers, including its flagship, The Atlanta Constitution. "We succeed on whether we give our newspapers what they think their readers need," Glass notes. "There's an enormous amount of planning and consultation. Every morning we're connected by computer with Atlanta and juggle our resources to tailor our stories to their interests."

Because of the restructuring and diversification, many bureau chiefs are obliged to be administrators, news executives, and office managers. No longer are the bureaus perceived as personal extensions of their chiefs -- possible exceptions to this rule being the Los Angeles Times's Nelson and The Wall Street Journal's Hunt. Except for occasional analytical or commentary pieces, and columns, few assume the role of "working journalists."

Ironically, notwithstanding the vast number of one-newspaper cities, the toughest competition many Washington bureau chiefs have to deal with is their own news organization back home, where editors have access to AP, UPI, and Reuters, as well as a multitude of supplemental news services.

"Editors at Cox papers have no obligation to use bureau stories," Glass points out. "They have all the wire services and the supplements and will pick the best story available --and they might not think it is one of ours."

Hearst's Lewis says he often has to resort to "telemarketing" to persuade the chain's editors of the value of the bureau's stories. "I have to fight to get their attention," he says. "They need to be taken by the hand to see the kind of stories they should be looking at. We're often asked, 'If your story is so great, why isn't it on the wires?' They're always looking for validation from AP, Reuters, orThe New York Times."

What competition does exist among the bureaus can have a certain incestuous quality. Newsday -- which despite its small size (or perhaps because of it) has established itself as one of the more energetic Washington bureaus -- finds itself in a peculiar competitive position with its sister paper, the Los Angeles Times (both are owned and published by Times-Mirror).

"We're more in competition with The New York Times, but we do different things," bureau chief Gaylord Shaw says. He acknowledges that the Newsday bureau does not cover the full panorama of Washington news, choosing instead to specialize in investigative and enterprise journalism. "We delight in pulling the Times's chain," he says, adding that it was the bureau's Supreme Court reporter, Timothy Phelps, who broke the story of Anita Hill's allegations against Clarence Thomas, and that another of his reporters, Patrick Sloyan, won a George Polk award and a Pulitzer Prize this year for his stories on the deaths of U.S. troops by "friendly fire" during the gulf war.

Anyone acquainted with Washington and the press is aware that there is a sort of hegemony at the top of the media heap, comprising The New York Times. The Wall Street Journal, the Los Angeles Times, and the hometownWashington Post. Reporters from these big, rich, influential newspapers are accorded easier access to government sources, are more likely to be invited to selected briefings and private interviews - and to be favored with exclusive leaks.

Professionally, the most important advantage of the Big Three and the Post is that they are read in Washington and directly reach the movers and shakers. Conversely, not to be published and read in Washington is equivalent to being a displaced person -- you simply don't exist among the capital's cognoscenti, since there is little you can do for them, or to them.

Some of the bureaus try to crack the invisible curtain by various means. Because the Hearst news service is available only to the chain's newspapers, bureau chief Lewis will sometimes fax stories around town to enhance his bureau's profile. The Los Angeles Times, for its part, launched a special Washington edition early this year. Cox stories are carried on The New York Times wire service, and are thereby guaranteed national distribution.

Breaking a big story is, of course, the best way of gaining national attention, but some of the biggest stories of recent times originated elsewhere before being picked up by the Washington press. Notable examples are the HUD mess, the Iran-contra affair, and the S&L scandal.

Critics point point to several aspects of the Washington news scene that inhibit solid reporting. Among them is the proliferation of leaks, which may serve to compromise the recipient.

As Dan Thomasson, Scripps Howard News Service bureau chief, explains, "You can't buy a reporter with money, but you can buy him with access. There's not a big difference between being leaked to and being leaked on."

Another is the appeal of celebrity status, which can make reporters reluctant to cover unglamorous beats.

Finally, as the late columnist Joseph Kraft observed, many Washington journalists are afflicted with "the disease of the times -- narcissism; they believe that because they write about events, they make them happen."

Which, on occasion, they may.