Censored!

Not really, but it’s a bit of a theme this week in the media (think Wikileaks).

I have a contract with NCIC to do videos of outdoor fun about Coös (click here to see some), and the latest one, which I posted on here earlier this week, raised some questions within the organization about liability.

I totally get that. In fact, the first video I made I raised that same question. Outdoor fun isn’t boardgames—it can be dangerous. The part that gets me, however, is the perception of danger versus actual danger. Fear versus danger would be more accurate, I guess.

The roads were bad from Berlin to Dixville last week, with slick patches and slop. We were in real danger of getting hurt making the drive to the climb. More danger than on the climb? I don’t know. All I can say is we made it through the drive, and we made it through the climb. I can say I’ve got more friends that have been in car accidents than climbing accidents, and I’ve never had a friend die climbing (I can’t say the same for in a car).

The first video I did, where I climbed up Pinnacle Buttress on Mount Washington, raises the same concerns. So would a winter hike of Mount Washington. There’s a whole book of people who died up there. But a day skiing at Bretton Woods should raise the same questions. I ski patrolled for three years, and I carried many people off the mountain. I had a ski partner break both arms in a ski accident, and another friend hit a tree and require a helicopter rescue. But skiing is safe?

A good friend broke his femur riding his bicycle last month. He didn’t get hit by a car—he just fell off his bike. What does it take to get outside and stay safe these days? I guess I’m just not sure.

I am afraid to go to Iraq, but I’m not sure what the danger is. Fear is natural, but it isn’t always right. Danger is real, but it isn’t necessarily measured by fear (just think of most people’s reaction to speaking before a crowd). The two are always playing off each other in my head, and I’m constantly trying to measure “is this fear, or am I in danger?”

And, quite frankly, 200 feet up without a rope, adding fear creates danger. If you are confident in your movements, you may be in danger, but if you are tentative the danger only increases. So how can I say whether I was safe up there, or whether I was in danger? I can’t. The individual becomes part of the danger equation. They contribute to their own safety or peril, by their mounting or diminishing fear. I was as safe as I could be, considering the circumstances. That’s as good as I’m ever going to get.

But, I have to admit, I have no idea what that means for liability. Luckily that isn’t my purview.

Wading Through

I’ve been reporting for The Conway Daily Sun for more than two months now, and I think I’m starting to get things figured out. But now that I’m at a daily, I’ve started wading through topics that take me two to three days to report on. It’s a complexity I enjoy, but with a lot of work.

First, the backstory:

I broke a story about state legislators looking to add a $3 fee to AMC and RMC accommodations in the White Mountains last week, which launched me into a story about who pays what taxes. The AMC and the RMC offer similar (although not the same) accommodations on the sides of the mountains, including stays in rustic huts. A lot of people think the AMC and the RMC don’t pay the state’s 9 percent rooms and meals tax, so when it came to adding a $3 fee, people thought it seemed fair.

One problem—the AMC does pay the rooms and meals tax. Or, more accurately, they pay the rooms tax. Non-profits have an exemption from the meals side of things, but the AMC pays roughly $260,000 in lodging taxes (including some meals tax from their Highland Center, which has to pay the meals portion because they have a liquor license).

But the RMC doesn’t pay. Never has.

If you’re familiar with the two, you might say, “Hey, wait, but the RMC huts are simple, not the full service hotels the AMC offers.” And you would be right. But the AMC pays the lodging tax on all their huts’ operations, including the year round operations of huts like Carter Notch and Zealand, which, in the winter, are just a caretaker, just like the RMC’s huts.

Add to this mix that the Dartmouth Outing Club, which runs seven cabins that are open to the public and one lodge, reportedly does not pay the lodging tax either. And the Mount Washington Observatory does not either, and they provide accommodations for some guided climbers. I’m still waiting to hear back from the Harvard Mountaineering Club about their cabin in Huntington Ravine, but there are a lot of questions floating around.

I’m still trying to sort out who should be doing what. There are some exemptions out there, like one for non-profits running educational programs (the Observatory pointed that one out), but the fact that one non-profit is paying the tax while others aren’t does make you wonder. I’ve been on and off the phone with the state Department of Revenue Administration about this, but I’ve still got a ways to go before I’m clear.

Why does this matter? Because the state is starving for money, firstly, and they (or we, as it is government by and for the people) can’t afford to let money fall through the cracks. But more importantly if a non profit is offering a service that competes with local businesses (like, for example, lodging) they shouldn’t have any unfair advantages without providing some public good. Tax payers agree to give these organizations a break, but they have to be fulfilling some larger purpose. If a hiker hostel in Gorham has to pay 9 percent to the state for housing hikers then the AMC should, the DOC should, and so should everyone else. If the AMC or DOC is offering some additional educational opportunity, or something else, then there is a justification for the break. But as a matter of fairness, local businesses can’t compete with organizations that get a 9 percent subsidy. It would be unreasonable to ask them to.

So, as I look into this story, I’m wading through tax statutes, DRA rules, and legalese. It isn’t the most exciting topic, but it is something worth getting to the bottom of.

But it does take a toll on the daily news pace. Try to go through a crash course in tax law in a day, and see how many other news stories you can write.

A Few Good Tips

Saturday was one of the most productive work days I’ve ever had, and I didn’t get any work done. I drove to Concord to do a half-day workshop, where I learned ways reporters can be more effective covering the courts.

I also got about four story ideas on the drive down and the drive back, and I learned about an interesting program at Boston University in investigative journalism. It was a fantastically successful day, as far as I was concerned.

One thing that was interesting was the response I got when I mentioned I’d reported in Berlin. One guy snorted and laughed. It reminded me of just how misunderstood the northern part of the state is, and just how disconnected it is from the southern tier. I was in Coös County today working on a project. I love it up there. I wonder if the reactions were because people don’t know what it’s like up there, or if their perceptions are already so rigid they wouldn’t be able to see anything else but what they expect.

Three Dollars

Members of The state legislature are trying to add a $3 fee to overnight accommodations in the White Mountains to help pay for hiker rescues. I keep calling people to get their opinions on this, and it turns out they have not yet heard about the effort. Even the senator who proposed the bill wasn’t clear on the specifics. Not the easiest story to report, but whatever. I figure people ought to know so they can weigh in.
They should also know that hikers require roughly seven times as many rescues as any other user group in New Hampshire, and they currently do not contribute to the state’s search and rescue fund.
So what is fair? I’m interested to hear where this goes as the story develops.

Picking Up Speed…

It’s a little more than a month before I head to Iraq, and I’m reasonably well entrenched in my new job, so it’s time to get back to LPJ. The last two months, between the job transition, classes at Plymouth State (fulfilling prerequisites for the masters in economics I hope to someday chase down), and freelance projects for the New Hampshire Charitable Foundation and Northern Community Investment Corporation have had me to the wire for weeks. In the next several weeks, however, things will start to slow down, just in time to grab some bulletproof and head east.

I’ve been overwhelmed by the number of stories out there lately. There are more than I can handle. I’ve had a great time reporting on the Mount Washington Hotel’s effort to trademark “Mount Washington,” and the struggle over the privileges long-term pass-holders at Wildcat believe they deserve, but at the same time the Gorham mill has kept flipping turbulently toward an uncertain future.

I’ve been putting feelers out in the North Country for ways I can stay connected, because of the sense of community there, but at the same time I’m looking further abroad as well. I’m trying to get a story together on the Southern Sudanese in New Hampshire, and how they feel about that election, and possibly make the connections to go report there when the referendum happens in January. But that’s six days before I head to Iraq, so I have a hard time seeing that happen.

It’s all storytelling in my eyes: print, radio, photography, etc. And I am a far cry from getting enough of it. There are two compelling stories I want to cover—the rural American one, and the international one. Sometimes it’s hard to choose. But right now, with classes and projects and work, it’s been neither. I’ve been consumed by the day in front of me, barely able to put the plans together for the bigger, more profound stories.

But now that pace should be slowing down. Now it’s time to look for the stories first, and the outlets second, instead of finding the outlets that tell me what the stories will be. My projects may be slowing down, but I’ll be picking up speed, working on those things I have a passion for.

Iraq is step one. That trip, while obviously a work trip, will be a chance to test out one aspect of these two possibilities. As long as I come home safely I will have learned something about what direction to go.

And with this “slowing down” hopefully I’ll be able to polish off some of the stories that have been sitting for months. I have a Peru piece to finish, and a woman in western Maine to interview about how it feels to be the epicenter of the foreclosure scandal. I’ve got stories I’ve been trying to chase down, about immigrants, about industrialization and about energy, that have had to sit because I can’t hold on to all of them. Now, as things slow down, I’ll be speeding up…

Southern Sudan

So I’ve got two months until I go to Iraq, and here already there is somewhere else I want to go. The January 9 referendum in Southern Sudan on whether they will form their own country or not would be an amazing story, just the kind of thing I’d love to cover. But it’s six days before I get on a plane for Kuwait.

My solution? Portland, Maine, has a large Sudanese population. While talking to them won’t be the same as going there, it would make for a great story. I also need to check to see what the Sudanese population is in Manchester, because it could be a good story for NHPR as well.

It’s an interesting thing, trying to figure out just how to launch into international reporting. But with international cities close by, I can do some if not all.

Always Moving

I’ve been looking at courses, ranging from photography to radio production to video, and trying to figure out how to squeeze them in after I’ve already used up all my vacation for Iraq. The field of journalism is changing, and today it takes a full basket to be worth hiring. Right now I’ve got a great job (one I’ve been thoroughly enjoying), but growing comfortable is a sure recipe for disaster.

I’m trying to figure out more international reporting trips and ways I can grow that way, as well as sign up for classes to take to grow my skills. The pace of the 20th century newsroom is such that to sit down for any length of time is to fall behind.

It’s hard to imagine what other form newspapers can take, but it’s exciting too. I’m not a newspaper reader, truthfully, if by newspaper you mean on paper made of dead trees. I read the New York Times, but I do it on an iPhone. It’s free (although I’d be willing to pay), and in a sense I’m an example of the problem of the business model.

But at the same time I tell stories that citizens need to hear in order to govern themselves, and I do it in print. I was talking to a Conway selectman today about an issue that will come up in town meeting in April, when residents will vote on it, and he was lamenting how ill-informed many voters are. They passed up on building a new town garage, he said, despite it costing the same as repairing the old one. It was an example of the wisdom of the voter failing, he said, because they were poorly informed.

Who or what is going to inform them in the future? I’m not sure. But the new tools with which it is possible to inform are exciting, and I plan to be on that forefront. Journalism may be in trouble in some places, but it’s only because the new business model hasn’t been unearthed. It will be, and when it is I’ll be there. Now where is that course schedule…

Election Night

Tonight is going to be busy. At 8 p.m. I head to the office to put together Wednesday’s paper, which will have all the latest news about the 2010 election, assuming the ballots are counted by 11 p.m. tonight. At the mayoral election last year I was able to tweet the race results as they came into Berlin city hall, but this overall is a much larger effort. 2009 was not a banner year for races, other than local ones, while this should be.

The daily news cycle is a different beast than that of a weekly, and the differences are worth experiencing. The push for a morning paper that has all the results is something I never worried about before; with a Monday deadline, Tuesday’s results never made it. Any big stories would be addressed the next week, and smaller issues would fall to the daily. Now I am the daily (although not in the grand form of how I was the weekly, where I did everything in the paper, including photos), and those tasks fall to me.

I talked to the woman who is taking my place at the Reporter yesterday. I did what I could to reassure her that the job is not just doable but rewarding. I remember the first day I started, and the first week, having no idea what I was going to write about to fill the paper. Reporting, largely, is about knowing a community. In a job like the Reporter, where there is no permanent staff, no permanent foundation, it’s a rebirth every time a new reporter starts. I felt a bit of that my first week at the Daily Sun, but it is entirely different. The fact there is an office, other reporters, and a phone messaging system means the same realities do not apply.

And they teach different things, different skills. I see stories everywhere now, even in places I don’t know well. That is a result of working for the Reporter. If you ask enough questions, everyone has a story to tell, some just take digging to get to.

The Sun, however, is about finding those stories, digging, and telling those stories quickly. Deadlines are no less important than facts in many news environments. So for that, I’ll be up tonight, counting the votes.

North Country Reminiscence

On Marketplace today was a story about broadband Internet and banking that began in Colebrook, and I got an email from the new reporter that will permanently fill my position at the Reporter. A pang of regret hit me each time. I’m not up there full time anymore, and I miss it.

My new position is great, however, and I don’t regret the move. The pace of a daily is a good challenge, as is reporting a new beat with new people. Once life gets fully settled I’m looking forward to getting deeper into the Conway community, where there are surely stories to tell. But I must admit I find myself reminiscing about North of the Notches.

I was talking to a candidate for state senate today, and she called Carroll County the North Country. All of the representatives from the North Country need to band together, she said, because they all have the same challenges. Carroll County is more like Coös County than it is like southern New Hampshire, she said, and they have to stick together.

I told her I didn’t think many people North of the Notches would agree on that point. She agreed—she’d lived there herself. I have to admit, after being let into the club up there, it feels like something special. Most people just don’t understand Coös. I’m not sure I do fully either, but I get enough of it in me that I connect to it.

And I’ve still got things going up there, things that I have to get back to. The story is continuing in the North Country, and though I’m not going to be covering it every day, I don’t want to let it go. Otherwise I’d spend all my time reminiscing.