Press Releases: Where's the drumbeat?

Published in the Portland Phoenix

Last week's news was dominated by a larger-than-life figure whose cartoonishly confident self-image was battered by revelations that high-level staffers were engaging in questionable practices while trying to get their jobs done.

No, I'm not talking about Rupert Murdoch, but rather Paul LePage, Maine's governor. There was the Phoenix's own story about a man we'll dub "Copy-Paste LePage" for the way he turns private-interest memos into public policy (see "The LePage Files," by Colin Woodard, July 22, for the details of how lobbyists control his agenda, including overruling his own ideas). And there was the blistering letter released by resigning marine resources commissioner Norman Olsen, accusing LePage of answering to anonymous special interests in the state's fisheries industry, refusing to communicate with one of his cabinet members, and directing public policy by private polls.

Stories like the Murdoch scandal are best handled by a practice Murdoch himself perfected: the constant drumbeat of new revelations, with even minor ones being used as an excuse to recycle all the old allegations, day in and day out, week after week, until the target of the reporting is beaten and battered, with public disgrace forever attached to his name.

LePage fares better in the tame Maine media ecosystem. There is clear evidence that the corporate influence-peddling in the LePage administration has reached levels that in most other states would be considered unacceptable — if not downright corrupt (see, in our own pages, "LePage's Secret Bankers," January 21 and "LePage's Secret Puppeteers," February 11. both by Colin Woodard).

But the Portland Press Herald, Bangor Daily News, and Lewiston Sun Journal — the state's biggest three papers — have given a pass to the governor and his cronies.

They changed that practice slightly when Olsen issued his statement — it was simply too inflammatory to be ignored, especially when written by a career US diplomat, who well knows the importance of word choice. But a week after these charges were issued, the headlines are gone, and LePage can go on his merry way with the tacit approval of the leaders of the state's media organizations.

If you're hoping these newspapers' State House bureaus are just digging behind the scenes and will begin their drumbeat soon, think again.

The coverage of a LePage "town hall" meeting in Dover-Foxcroft (his latest in the "Capitol for a Day" series) was, in fact, clearly friendly to the governor. None of the three papers took even a moment to note that the "questions from the audience" that LePage took were selected by his staff, from among written questions submitted by people as they entered the room before the event started.

MaineToday writer Susan Cover went so far as to say "No one asked LePage about the resignation of his marine resources commissioner" the day before. Her story did not say whether that assertion was based on checking the pile of submitted questions, or whether she simply tallied those that got past the LePage censors and were permitted to be raised aloud — but a meeting attendee suggests she did the latter.

Chris Korzen, co-founder and director of Maine's Majority, says members of his group (the folks with the "61%" stickers and T-shirts) did indeed submit questions about Olsen, as well as about those copy-paste-from-lobbyist practices. Korzen was not surprised that none were chosen. He characterized the meeting as "noncontroversial" and noteworthy mainly because, unlike other such events, where tempers have run hot on all sides, "there was nothing really remarkable at all" at the Dover-Foxcroft event.

While legal investigations are proceeding, public opinion seems clear that Murdoch's staffers engaged in despicable and deplorable acts that may yet clip the wings of his empire. But it seems regrettably likely that the revelations about LePage's public-trust violations have already finished their brief appearance in Maine's media. Unless the drumbeat starts.

Press releases: Shaking up Salt

Published in the Portland Phoenix


A school that has quietly drawn to Portland, trained, and set loose around Maine a large number of journalists and other young creative professionals is entering a new phase, and not a decade too soon.

The Salt Institute for Documentary Studies, which relocated to Congress Street in 2008 after nearly a decade on Exchange Street (with its gallery in the space that is now the Corner Room), is adding more multimedia to its curriculum. The school's students have put out work displayed in a book (which terminated publication a few years back), gallery shows, and "radio church," a semester-end listening party playing work by students in the audio/radio track. In more recent years, many students have posted some of their work online, including collaborative writing, photography, and audio projects. That effort will now expand with additional faculty support.

The school does not grant degrees, but often serves as a host for college students taking a semester away from their regular campus (as well as college grads seeking additional education). Its four part-time faculty members quit earlier this spring "for a variety of reasons over the course of a couple weeks," says Donna Galluzzo, Salt's executive director.

She says the school has been planning a revamp of its curriculum, specifically to incorporate more multimedia work, for some time now. "We've been hearing off and on a lot over the years from students" seeking that sort of instruction in addition to the existing teaching.

"We've always had one class that's been an all-track class," Galluzzo says, and it's there that the school will center its multimedia instruction, led by Christine Heinz, who studied photography at Salt in 2001 and has worked at the school and elsewhere doing photography and multimedia storytelling.

Galluzzo says the multimedia class will seek to merge the existing disciplines at Salt into an online format, and will shy away from outright filmmaking. "We're not looking to be a film school or compete with any film schools," she says. As far as video goes, she says the school will provide "an opportunity for people to dabble."

Similarly for animation; "some (students) come in with tremendous skillsets," Galluzzo says, and Salt is trying to position itself to take better advantage of any opportunities "to combine what they know and what they're learning" that might arise.

The other new instructors have also been hired: Andres Gonzalez will teach photography; Michael May will teach radio; and Caitlin Shetterly will teach writing. Gonzalez is also a Salt alumnus, and a Fulbright Scholar who moved to Istanbul four years ago to document cultural transition in that city, which has been a crossroads for thousands of years. May is an experienced radio journalist (and has a solid print-journalism background) whose work has aired on major nationwide National Public Radio programs. Shetterly, too, is an author and public-radio producer (and former Portland Phoenix scribe).

What comes of these changes remains to be seen; Galluzzo says she is hoping to help students gain more marketable skills and produce more "sellable" pieces. While many Salt students have gone on to work as staffers or freelancers for local media outlets (including the Phoenix), since the demise of the school's own book, few of the students' actual projects for their classes have made it into wider publication. (For a rare exception, see, "Portland's Islamic Center Avoids National Debate," by Maura Ewing, August 27, 2010.)

Galluzzo has expressed interest in coordinating more with local publications and journalism organizations (including the Maine Pro Chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists, a group I serve as president). It's a fair bet that with Salt's new blood and a refined focus, not only the students and school but also Maine media outlets and their audiences could be real winners.