The Trace Of Crusty Old Editor In Me

In an age of touchy-feeling management and lofty political correctness, staying in touch with the old-school, tough-cookie side of newspapering has become increasingly difficult.
I still vividly remember the abrasive old news barnacles who ran my journalism department, which imploded years later under the control of the kind of high-minded thinkers and philosophers who churn out journalists who are academic juggernauts but have no practical skills.
I remember my stories put up on a screen in class and ripped apart for all the other students to see. I remember wanting so bad for the college newspaper to scoop the local daily.
In that environment, you quickly learn from your mistakes, albeit in a sometimes unprofessional and humiliating kind of way, by today's standards.
The days of fiery, cigar-chomping, sharp-tongued editors who kept a whiskey flask in a bottom desk drawer were gone before I got into the newspaper game, but I learned the trade under guys who worked in that environment. The passion and fire-bellied aggressiveness in those days has been replaced by a softer professional.
That's a good thing, because modern work places just don't operate well under that kind of management philosophy.
I sometimes do wish journalists today had just a touch of that old-school fire, with a healthy fear of getting beat on stories and violating the standards of accuracy, grammar, punctuation, spelling and the holy journalism rules known as Associated Press style.
I feel lucky to have a crack reporting staff that, for the most part, practices these kinds of things daily. They showed what they were made of during Hurricane Rita, and I'm proud of them.
But what I see all too often from applicants makes me wonder how many wheels have fallen off the teaching and guidance aspects of this industry.
I've had applicants leave voice mails saying they had accepted jobs elsewhere. We flew them in, put them up in a hotel and wined and dined them, and yet when they decided to go elsewhere, they thanked us for our time via voice mail.
Some applicants just mail a resume. No cover letter. No news clips. No references.
Some applicants mail poetry. Some show up late for interviews. Some have no questions to ask of me. You're a reporter, so show me what you can do by asking intelligent questions! Some show up seriously underdressed.
Some applicants have no practical experience but expect to make a big leap out of college. Most likely, they'd find work here too demanding and frustrating. They need some experience first. I try to help by suggesting that they start on a weekly or a small daily. I even have some connections for them and am willing to make a phone call if they have potential.
One old-school practice that I've abandoned, however, is the formal flush letter telling an applicant that we have no opening for someone of their qualifications or that we have stronger applicants. In an age where people can e-mail resumes, clips and cover letters, I often get hammered with applicants when an opening comes up here. I could spend all day writing rejection letters. Instead, I try to respond, at least via e-mail, to every applicant.
For the non-prospects, I try to find something positive and encouraging to say. I also try to guide them to where they might be better suited to get a solid start.
I do this for two reasons. For starters, I'm an advocate for the trade, and I want to see those interested in the field find success. They might get good and remember the nice guy Beaumont that gave them some help, and they'll want to come work for me.
Also, you never know when they might get really good, so much so that I'll find myself asking them for a job some day.
What goes around comes around, you know?