I believe Daniel Dale.
That doesn’t mean the mayor is lying again. Or that he is intentionally misleading the public when he says my colleague stood on cinder blocks and peered into his backyard. Sometimes, things are more complicated than they seem. Two people looking at the same body of evidence can reach divergent conclusions.
I believe Daniel Dale because he sits two desks over from me and has done so for more than a year. You get to know people somewhat by observing them at close quarters day in, day out.
And, from observation, Daniel Dale has no guile. If he did he would not have told us he ran, scared, from the mayor.
He’s an honest, hard-working, excellent reporter — and the awards he’s received proves this.
Dale was being a good reporter when he attempted to see for himself exactly what Mayor Rob Ford has in mind by seeking to buy a piece of public land to, the mayor claims, augment the security and privacy around his home of many years.
Ford’s neighbour saw Dale taking pictures around the back of Ford’s house and called the mayor. So far, so good.
Apparently, the neighbour said he saw Dale up on cinder blocks peeping into the mayor’s yard. The mayor didn’t see that. But he came charging towards Dale, fist cocked, screaming, intent, he admits, on hitting the reporter who he outweighs two to one. So far, so good.
Dale says he did not step on cinder blocks, did not even see the blocks and did not peer into the mayor’s backyard. And he was always on public property.
So he is not a peeping Tom, as the mayor claims. Not that there is anything wrong with a reporter being a peeping Tom. It goes with the job. We are proud of such name-calling. We have no shame. It’s what we do.
If a public official won’t talk to us at the office, we try for a comment at his home. Make yourself available, like any other public official, and there is no need to follow you home. Hide and dodge and refuse to disclose your schedule — or communicate only to your favourite reporters or news outlets — and the ink-stained wretches will trundle over to your favourite watering hole to see if you are more inclined to talk there.
If the mayor says he can’t attend the Pride Parade because he can’t possibly miss family time at the cottage, we go up to the cottage to see if he is, in fact, there.
Call that snooping, if you want. We won’t lose any sleep over the characterization. It’s our job. When we show up at the cottage, you can choose to speak or not. Or call us snoops.
Jittery about intruders? Don’t give out your home number, your home address, or invite hordes over to your place for a big annual ribfest and then complain about the privacy of your home and family.
If you don’t want jokes about your weight, don’t make it the subject of a weekly weigh-in, don’t start a public campaign to ha-ha “cut the waist” and then hit the fast-food joints and miss several of the weigh-ins. If you do, expect that more than a few commentators will weigh in on the subject.
If you don’t want reporters coming over to your place to check on your property, don’t apply to buy taxpayers’ land next to your place. We don’t sell such land every day. The request is bound to attract attention — and snoopy reporters looking to see if the request is reasonable or just another attempt by a public official to get a benefit otherwise not available to the general public.
If you are going to run for public office, expect that your opponents will take a shot at you; that they will dig up dirt on you and give it to reporters; that journalists will investigate the charges; that sometimes it is near impossible to tell who is telling the “truth.”
Understand that journalists are not mandated to declare the truth. We compile information and present it. We are like court reporters. We record who said what. We distribute it into the court of public opinion for the reader-juror to declare guilt or innocence.
Yes, columnists and pundits act as judge and jury. That’s part of the mix. But the public is always the Supreme Court.
When the Star runs a story saying some people accuse Rob Ford of getting physical with a football player — and the newspaper report clearly says other people dispute the charge — the Star has done its duty.
That particular story is supposed to be the source of Rob Ford’s anger towards the Star. But, like a good watchdog, the Star barked. It alerted readers to a potential problem and it warned that there are conflicting accounts.
A watchdog doesn’t determine whether a visitor is friend or foe. It barks. If the assumed intruder happens to be a friend of the master, the watchdog lies down and waits for the next sign of another intruder.
Mayor Ford insists he won’t talk to journalists in the presence of Star reporters. This I do know. I will be at the mayor’s weigh-in Monday morning. And I hope Daniel is there, too.
And if reporters in the city hall press gallery — including those who have been crapping on the Star for doing what they themselves have done, and will do — want to slip into the mayor’s office to do their exclusive interviews away from the prying eyes of the Star, knock yourselves out.
The day the Star removes a Daniel Dale from city hall coverage to appease a mayor, is the day I’ll request they move me as well.
Until then, if the mayor cocks his fist at this journalist, he’d better be prepared to use it.
Original Article
Source: Star
Author: Royson James
That doesn’t mean the mayor is lying again. Or that he is intentionally misleading the public when he says my colleague stood on cinder blocks and peered into his backyard. Sometimes, things are more complicated than they seem. Two people looking at the same body of evidence can reach divergent conclusions.
I believe Daniel Dale because he sits two desks over from me and has done so for more than a year. You get to know people somewhat by observing them at close quarters day in, day out.
And, from observation, Daniel Dale has no guile. If he did he would not have told us he ran, scared, from the mayor.
He’s an honest, hard-working, excellent reporter — and the awards he’s received proves this.
Dale was being a good reporter when he attempted to see for himself exactly what Mayor Rob Ford has in mind by seeking to buy a piece of public land to, the mayor claims, augment the security and privacy around his home of many years.
Ford’s neighbour saw Dale taking pictures around the back of Ford’s house and called the mayor. So far, so good.
Apparently, the neighbour said he saw Dale up on cinder blocks peeping into the mayor’s yard. The mayor didn’t see that. But he came charging towards Dale, fist cocked, screaming, intent, he admits, on hitting the reporter who he outweighs two to one. So far, so good.
Dale says he did not step on cinder blocks, did not even see the blocks and did not peer into the mayor’s backyard. And he was always on public property.
So he is not a peeping Tom, as the mayor claims. Not that there is anything wrong with a reporter being a peeping Tom. It goes with the job. We are proud of such name-calling. We have no shame. It’s what we do.
If a public official won’t talk to us at the office, we try for a comment at his home. Make yourself available, like any other public official, and there is no need to follow you home. Hide and dodge and refuse to disclose your schedule — or communicate only to your favourite reporters or news outlets — and the ink-stained wretches will trundle over to your favourite watering hole to see if you are more inclined to talk there.
If the mayor says he can’t attend the Pride Parade because he can’t possibly miss family time at the cottage, we go up to the cottage to see if he is, in fact, there.
Call that snooping, if you want. We won’t lose any sleep over the characterization. It’s our job. When we show up at the cottage, you can choose to speak or not. Or call us snoops.
Jittery about intruders? Don’t give out your home number, your home address, or invite hordes over to your place for a big annual ribfest and then complain about the privacy of your home and family.
If you don’t want jokes about your weight, don’t make it the subject of a weekly weigh-in, don’t start a public campaign to ha-ha “cut the waist” and then hit the fast-food joints and miss several of the weigh-ins. If you do, expect that more than a few commentators will weigh in on the subject.
If you don’t want reporters coming over to your place to check on your property, don’t apply to buy taxpayers’ land next to your place. We don’t sell such land every day. The request is bound to attract attention — and snoopy reporters looking to see if the request is reasonable or just another attempt by a public official to get a benefit otherwise not available to the general public.
If you are going to run for public office, expect that your opponents will take a shot at you; that they will dig up dirt on you and give it to reporters; that journalists will investigate the charges; that sometimes it is near impossible to tell who is telling the “truth.”
Understand that journalists are not mandated to declare the truth. We compile information and present it. We are like court reporters. We record who said what. We distribute it into the court of public opinion for the reader-juror to declare guilt or innocence.
Yes, columnists and pundits act as judge and jury. That’s part of the mix. But the public is always the Supreme Court.
When the Star runs a story saying some people accuse Rob Ford of getting physical with a football player — and the newspaper report clearly says other people dispute the charge — the Star has done its duty.
That particular story is supposed to be the source of Rob Ford’s anger towards the Star. But, like a good watchdog, the Star barked. It alerted readers to a potential problem and it warned that there are conflicting accounts.
A watchdog doesn’t determine whether a visitor is friend or foe. It barks. If the assumed intruder happens to be a friend of the master, the watchdog lies down and waits for the next sign of another intruder.
Mayor Ford insists he won’t talk to journalists in the presence of Star reporters. This I do know. I will be at the mayor’s weigh-in Monday morning. And I hope Daniel is there, too.
And if reporters in the city hall press gallery — including those who have been crapping on the Star for doing what they themselves have done, and will do — want to slip into the mayor’s office to do their exclusive interviews away from the prying eyes of the Star, knock yourselves out.
The day the Star removes a Daniel Dale from city hall coverage to appease a mayor, is the day I’ll request they move me as well.
Until then, if the mayor cocks his fist at this journalist, he’d better be prepared to use it.
Original Article
Source: Star
Author: Royson James
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