Author: erikeisele

Missed Opportunities

A week or so ago we had two gubernatorial candidates in the office, Republican Kevin Smith and Democrat Jackie Cilley. I did my best to push both of them on their weaknesses. Smith says Concord needs reform from someone who understands business, but he’s spent most his life working closely with the legislature, not in the private sector. I couldn’t understand how someone with 15 years working in Concord who listed his understanding of how the system worked as one of his chief assets could be the architect of that system’s reform. Cilley, meanwhile, said she was “looking” at everything, but she refused to be specific about what taxes she would increase to pay for the services she wants government to provide.

It wasn’t until after Cilley left, however, that I stumbled on the big question I wish I’d asked her. Cilley has refused to take “the Pledge,” something just about every New Hampshire gubernatorial candidate has to take. It is a promise not to institute a broad-based income or sales tax. Cilley said she isn’t planning to institute such a tax, but she wants all options on the table. Further, she said, she doesn’t believe in pledge politics. It poisons the atmosphere. She resoundingly rejected the pledges Republicans took about taxes, singling out Grover Norquist’s no tax pledge.

I could understand her position, but then after she left I took a look at her website. I went to the issues page and scrolled to the bottom where she discusses her position on same-sex marriage. It reads:

I was proud to support marriage equality as a state Senator. I would never support taking away a citizen’s rights and believe that marriage is a private decision for couples to make rather than governments to decide.

I would never support taking away a citizen’s rights — that sounds to me like a line in the sand, a promise, an ultimatum, something Cilley swears she will never do. When put next to the heading Same Sex Marriage, I get the distinct impression she is making a pledge. She is promising, pledging, never to try to repeal same-sex marriage.

Why is it OK for Cilley to engage in pledge politics on the issue of same-sex marriage while rebuking pledge politics when it comes to taxes? I’m not sure. It seemed a big hole to me. I would imagine many politicians, like many people, have clear views on social issues that are not subject to changes. Stating them clearly for the record isn’t a bad thing. Promising your constituents you will stick by that position after they send you into office isn’t a bad thing either. That, essentially, is a pledge. It is a campaign promise. I would say it is one you make particularly forcefully, but that’s still what it is. So to hear Cilley decry them in one context yet make one in another (albiet without using the word pledge, but a rose by any other name is still a rose…) is strange. It makes me wonder if all this talk of pledges is just politics. It’s something I’d like to ask her. Hopefully I’ll get another shot.

Why It Sucks to Be a Democrat

Ever thought about running for political office? If so, do yourself a favor, throw in with the G.O.P.

Why? Because being a Democrat sucks.

We have had candidates streaming into our office, people running for everything from county attorney to sheriff to state representative to governor. Many of them sit down with our editorial staff to answer questions and discuss their views. I view it as my job to make that experience tough, something they hopefully remember. No matter their political affiliation I want to shoot holes in their platform. I look at it as testing them to see what they are made of, whether they have whatever it is voters deserve.

A recent visitor, Jackie Cilley, is running for the governor’s seat, and her visit got me thinking about how hard it is to be a democrat today. The Republican Party today has a strong bias towards one thing — cutting government. It has gotten to a point where longtime establishment Rockefeller Republicans have told me they feel ostracized in their  own party. Dept and spending need to be slashed, the argument goes, even if it threatens our nation’s credit rating (last year’s debt ceiling debate).

With that in mind, think about what it takes to run as a Republican. Think about how those candidates address editorial boards like ours. What would you like to do about taxes? “Cut them.” Should the government regulate (fill in the blank)?  “No, government is the problem. We need to get government out of the way.” What should we do about unemployment? (Or health care, or public transportation, or the banking sector, or…) “Again, we need to get government out of the way. Let the public sector work. Government is not the answer.”

It is an easy game. The unrestrained free market mantra in vogue with the G.O.P. right now has an obvious script, and anyone can play.

Democrats, however, have a harder task. They have to talk about services and taxes, and they have to get it right. It’s easy to point out education funding got cut and the roads are in disrepair, but how do you plan to generate the revenue to rectify that problem? How can we be sure your new environmental (labor, financial, etc.) regulations will be reasonable, not onerous? How do you plan to pay for increased unemployment benefits (social services, health care, etc.)?

These are no easy answers. There are lots of pitfalls, lots of opportunities to look like you’re just trying to grow the state machine. There is no mantra you can memorize to handle every question. The challenge is much greater than that Republicans face.

It used to be the two parties both agreed government provided a needed service, it was just the degrees that differed. It was a Republican, not a Democrat, (Nixon) who created the Environmental Protection Agency. It was President Eisenhower who created the interstate system. But today the boundaries have shifted. Democrats are the only ones arguing for services (mostly), while Republicans are itching to eliminate everything.

And it’s the Democrats who face the uphill battle.

Moving Up

Cool news — I have been promoted to News Editor at the Conway Daily Sun. It isn’t really like I’m anyone’s boss, and I didn’t take anyone else’s position, but I will now be responsible for coordinating our day-to-day coverage to ensure we have more strong stories more consistently. It means trying to coordinate everyone a little better, although my reporting duties have not changed. I’m psyched, and the first few days of it have been going well. Now let’s just hope I deliver a strong front page.

Surrealism on the Big Screen

Sometimes it’s all about the photograph, but sometimes words can paint the more complete picture.

I was in court this afternoon and happened to sit in on the arraignment of a young woman charged with stealing a credit card and using it three times. She looked to be in her early twenties, with long brown hair and glasses. She looked like she could easily have been on break from college, only the prosecutor said she isn’t. She also isn’t employed, and she was already out on bail for burglary charges. I wasn’t there for the young woman’s hearing, but the clerk would be busy until it was over so I figured I’d sit through it rather than wait in the hall.

The proceeding was different than others I’ve been to. Instead of a judge sitting at an elevated desk at the front of the room there was a large screen television mounted at the witness stand. The court was doing a video arraignment, the clerk told me, something they’d just begun within the last month. On top of the television was a cylindrical camera, roughly the size of a soft drink cup, what pointed at the defendant. In the lower right corner was a square showing what the camera was capturing. The rest of the screen was for the judge.

A judge an hour and a half away came to the screen at the push of the button, and everyone in the room rose as if he had just walked in. The judge’s clerk (there were two — one in the room the young woman, the prosecutor and I were in, and then one with the judge) read the charges the young woman was facing — one count of theft and three counts of credit card fraud. The prosecutor, a sergeant with the Conway Police Department, read an affidavit that said the woman stole the card from an associate and charged $500 on it. He also mentioned her other pending cases, and that she was after money for drugs.

This girl looked like she could have been taking classes at any university, or working in the coffee shop down the street. I’m not sure exactly when, but around the time the prosecutor asked the judge to set bail at $5,000 cash she began to cry.

She continued to cry as she stood and pleaded to the television that she did not want to go to jail. “I just want to go home,” she said, her voice broken. I wonder if she noticed the bailiff, just in front of her and to the right, sending a text message on his cell phone. “I have no one here,” she said. $5,000 would be too much.

I’ve never had to post anyone’s bail, but as I sat there watching her cry I considered it. They will eat her up in jail, I thought. The judge listened as she cried and spoke. Her back was to me, but I could see her reflection in the television screen as she wiped her eyes. I had to look away. And I wasn’t alone. There three other police officers in the room, and they all were looking at their feet, at the ceiling, anywhere but at her, embarrassed and sad for her but at the same time mad at her.

The room felt cold. I couldn’t help but envision the photo I wanted, the photo I knew would capture the inhumanity I was watching. It would take a wide angle lens, and it would be in black and white. In the foreground would be the bailiff’s phone, open in his hand, held next to his leg. Beyond him would be the young woman, slightly out of focus, her hands over her face. Beyond her, in the middle, would be the judge, just inches tall on the television screen deciding her fate.

I’m not sure what I saw in that room, what it says about humanity, the electronic age or the future of justice. But I did see something that struck me as an opportunity for art to make its social commentary. The room felt cold, the justice system felt cold, in a way it never has when there is a human sitting at the front of the room.

This young woman didn’t get that, however. She got a $5,000 cash bail. And with that she got a free ride to the house of corrections, and orange jumpsuit and shackles.

Back at Full Speed

I’ve been working on videos and more from my Peru trip, which went great. I am now back to running at full speed at the paper, but still looking around for the next cool opportunity.

I stumbled across something today that reminded me just exactly why I do what I do, and what possibilities there are for this type of work. Journalism may be struggling, but there is no escaping the fact that there are stories that need to be told. This was a good reminder:

One More Time

I’m about to head off on another international reporting trip, this time to Peru’s Cordillera Blanca, where the receding glaciers are quickly changing the landscape. This is an economic story, not just an environmental one — tourism is the third largest industry in Peru, behind mining and resource extraction, and in many areas the snowcapped mountains are the primary draw. That is true of the Ancash region, where Peru’s highest mountain range sits. Tourism has been a crucial part of the economy there, but as the glaciers melt that is changing things. I’m going down there to meet with the people affected, from the restaurant owners to the mountain guides. I made connections when I was there several years ago, and now this tim I’m going to tell the story.

One Step Closer

I spent this morning at superior court attending the plea and sentencing hearing of Trevor Ferguson, the 24-year-old Tamworth man accused of giving the man convicted of murdering Krista Dittmeyer a ride home from where he dumped her body. I wasn’t supposed to go, but it worked out that I had to. It worked out to a great opportunity.

I say this time and time again here on LPJ, but I love shooting photos. Photography is actually what first got me into newspapers. I’ve always loved it, but in my current role I find myself shooting only on rare occasions. Our fantastic photographer Jamie Gemmiti winds up scooping most lens opportunities.

Not without reason, either. Given the choice I would hire him to shoot photos over me. He really is great at his job.

But every once in a while I still get to trigger the shutter. Today, at the hearing, because I didn’t know it was my responsibility, I showed up late. Things hadn’t started yet, so I didn’t miss anything, but I was just sitting down when Ferguson walked into the courtroom. I scrambled to get his face as he entered, but I missed. I got a shot or two of his back with the judge in the background, but nothing that was a standout photo.

I new this was going to be a big story (since I was writing it), so I had to have something. I was positioned next to the door he came in through and would leave from, so I figured I had one more chance. The hearing proceeded, and I took notes without ever turning off my camera or putting on the lens cap. It sat next to me on my camera bag. Both it and I were ready for action.

The hearing came and went (read the story here), and then he was being ushered out. This was my shot at a good photo.

Then everything changed. Ferguson was lead over to the gallery, where right in front of me members of his family were sitting. An older woman rose and clasped his face. I could hear them barely, but my hands were on my camera, not my notebook. I shot and shot and shot as she hugged him and he hugged her back as much as his cuffed hands would allow. It was a gentle moment in a story that is all around sad. I found the shot I was looking for.

Ferguson will be in jail for at least the next six years. Anthony Papile, the man convicted of murdering Krista Dittmeyer, will be in jail for at least the next 42. A third man, Michael Petelis, still has to go before a judge. Dittmeyer will be dead for eternity. I’m not sure there is much of silver lining here, except that I got a chance to shoot a front page photo. Small consolation, all things considered.

The Art of the Superfund

If you get a chance take a quick look at my story about Kearsarge Metallurgical Corp., the valve company in Conway that became a Superfund site that cost American taxpayers $5 million to clean up. It was fun to research and write. It was not intended to be the weekend feature, but my editor liked it so it got drafted. It started from the question, “Are the people who made this mess cleaning it up?” It ended with the realization that the Superfund program, originally meant to be funded by the companies that risk contamination, has become a program funded by the public. It becomes a little easier to care about policy, I think, when it’s in your back yard and it’s your money that’s cleaning it up.

The Essence of the Written Word

I came to the cities in a time of disorder
When hunger ruled.
I came among men in a time of uprising
And I revolted with them.

I ate my food between massacres.
The shadow of murder lay upon my sleep.
And when I loved, I loved with indifference.
I looked upon nature with impatience.

In my time streets led to the quicksand.
Speech betrayed me to the slaughterer.
There was little I could do. But without me
The rulers would have been more secure. This was my hope.

– Bertold Brecht

I saw the last section of this (revised) poem on Facebook the other day when a friend posted it alongside a story about a Chinese dissident who had barricaded himself into his home to avoid persecution. I read it and immediately put it into Google to find the author.

Bertold Brecht was a German writer born around the turn of the century. He lived through both World War One and World War Two, although he got out of Germany for the second war. When I read this poem (which is only really the middle section of a longer poem, with a couple lines deleted) the words stuck in my mouth. They felt heavy, like they meant something regardless of context.

It’s so rare to see powerful writing, particularly in the everyday. It’s something I’ve been working on, hopefully with success.

I was going through emails the other day tossing out old ones and I came across one I wrote to the former editor at NHPR about the mess in Transvale Acres following the Irene flooding. Check it out:

The fact is most of the lots originally were campsites and were never supposed to be anything more. People bought them and built illegally because they knew they could never get building permits for so close to the river. The neighborhood is private, without town roads or infrastructure, so the development largely happened under the radar. They built everything without talking to the building inspector, so half the houses were shacks jacked up on cinderblock stilts. People obviously knew it was happening, but town officials going back 40 years ignored it.
It’s hard to fault the current administration for a problem they inherited. Officials don’t like to talk about it, but they tried to deal with the problem before the storm. They looked for ways to clean up the neighborhood, but without funding to compensate property owners for the homes they would have been forced out of they didn’t get anywhere.
Then the storm came. The emergency declaration gave the town the deep pockets it needed to finally address the problem. It took political will for town officials to step up and enforce regulations their predecessors ignored for four decades, but most people think it was the right thing to do. 22 people had to be rescued out of Transvale Acres on the night of the storm. The question has come up: What happens if durring the next flood a firefighter dies trying to rescue someone out of sub-standard housing that the town allowed to stand? It may seem draconian now, but over the long term it’s the right move.
The real fault here lies with the people who built houses illegally 30 years ago and the officials who ignored it then. Everyone else is a victim. Sure, illegal construction happened more recently, but by that point the problem had become too widespread: What’s the point of issuing a violation for an illegal porch if the house it’s attached to isn’t supposed to be there? The town, and the homeowners who bought from the original owners, were in an impossible situation.
So that’s the story: the situation sucks, particularly for homeowners, but the town is stepping up and doing the right thing for the first time in decades. And although it’s going to be painful, without the storm there would have been no mechanism to compensate these people.
I like to thing it’s strong writing. Her response was this should become part of the script (the script, however, never got written). I keep playing with my writing to see what I can make it. It’s nice once in a while to feel like you’re writing with weight, not just to get the basics of an idea across.