09-11-2020, 07:57 PM
The Society of Professional Journalists has a code by which they believe journalists should work: Seek truth and report it, minimize harm, act independently, and be accountable. It was this sort of raison d’être that drew me to journalism at the University of Colorado program. I went there to learn how to report truth. It’s why I had signed up for Tracey’s media class, and it’s why, after he dove into his diatribe about the JonBenét Ramsey case on that first day, I dropped his class.
That same autumn in 2004, Tracey was moonlighting as a media critic for the Rocky Mountain News, and wrote a column titled “Truth Takes Back Seat to Distortions.” It was a dig at Dan Rather, who’d aired documents that indicated President Bush had dodged his Texas Air National Guard obligations back in the 1970s. The now-infamous documents were forged. Rather apologized and later resigned. In his column, Tracey used Rather as another metaphor for the failings of journalism:
“Dan Rather had to admit that he couldn’t verify documents that ‘60 Minutes II’ had broadcast, in a stupid rush to publish…This presents a serious problem for the idea of the media within a so-called democracy. We imagine people to be rational, curious, informed, constructing knowledge out of information and decisions out of knowledge. The media are there to provide the information that incubates the knowledge that births a rational world. This is today largely nonsense since we live in an age where the distorted is favored over the true.” It’s a column Tracey could now pen about himself.
Tracey granted me an interview because I was an alumnus. Because I was young. And green. During one of our conversations he suggested I watch a movie called Shadowlands—the story of a British writer/professor and his love affair with a young American “fan.”
Only two years after graduating, when I returned to the halls of the CU J-school, I found the same man whose class I had dropped—not so much the crass opportunist his critics saw from afar, but rather a man unmoored, trying to solve the mystery of a murdered little girl and maybe, in so doing, find himself.
After listening to Tracey over the course of several weeks, I asked him to define his legacy. His answer came in an e-mail: “That’s for you and other people to decide.” Rather than extract some clarity, he once again sidestepped into yet another theoretical debate.
I’m sitting across from Tracey at our secret meeting at the Hungry Toad, waiting to hear the information about Karr that’s so interesting the professor could only share it in person. Tracey’s beer arrives. He’s in the habit of ordering half pints, rather than full ones, though he probably ends up drinking the same amount of alcohol in the end. Finally, he starts to talk.
He’s heard from David Mills. A production crew from “48 Hours” had an interview with federal agents who admitted that John Mark Karr was still under investigation for the murder of JonBenét Ramsey. Tracey tells me he hasn’t confirmed whether it’s really true. It’s all going to be on television in a couple weeks, he says. Anyway, he’s energized by the new development, and he can’t stop talking. Meanwhile, Jen has started doodling in her notebook. Tracey’s son’s eyes have drifted up to the football game on the television. Even Paul, the JonBenét playwright, is zoning out. And I realize that I’m the only one still listening.
That same autumn in 2004, Tracey was moonlighting as a media critic for the Rocky Mountain News, and wrote a column titled “Truth Takes Back Seat to Distortions.” It was a dig at Dan Rather, who’d aired documents that indicated President Bush had dodged his Texas Air National Guard obligations back in the 1970s. The now-infamous documents were forged. Rather apologized and later resigned. In his column, Tracey used Rather as another metaphor for the failings of journalism:
“Dan Rather had to admit that he couldn’t verify documents that ‘60 Minutes II’ had broadcast, in a stupid rush to publish…This presents a serious problem for the idea of the media within a so-called democracy. We imagine people to be rational, curious, informed, constructing knowledge out of information and decisions out of knowledge. The media are there to provide the information that incubates the knowledge that births a rational world. This is today largely nonsense since we live in an age where the distorted is favored over the true.” It’s a column Tracey could now pen about himself.
Tracey granted me an interview because I was an alumnus. Because I was young. And green. During one of our conversations he suggested I watch a movie called Shadowlands—the story of a British writer/professor and his love affair with a young American “fan.”
Only two years after graduating, when I returned to the halls of the CU J-school, I found the same man whose class I had dropped—not so much the crass opportunist his critics saw from afar, but rather a man unmoored, trying to solve the mystery of a murdered little girl and maybe, in so doing, find himself.
After listening to Tracey over the course of several weeks, I asked him to define his legacy. His answer came in an e-mail: “That’s for you and other people to decide.” Rather than extract some clarity, he once again sidestepped into yet another theoretical debate.
I’m sitting across from Tracey at our secret meeting at the Hungry Toad, waiting to hear the information about Karr that’s so interesting the professor could only share it in person. Tracey’s beer arrives. He’s in the habit of ordering half pints, rather than full ones, though he probably ends up drinking the same amount of alcohol in the end. Finally, he starts to talk.
He’s heard from David Mills. A production crew from “48 Hours” had an interview with federal agents who admitted that John Mark Karr was still under investigation for the murder of JonBenét Ramsey. Tracey tells me he hasn’t confirmed whether it’s really true. It’s all going to be on television in a couple weeks, he says. Anyway, he’s energized by the new development, and he can’t stop talking. Meanwhile, Jen has started doodling in her notebook. Tracey’s son’s eyes have drifted up to the football game on the television. Even Paul, the JonBenét playwright, is zoning out. And I realize that I’m the only one still listening.