Page 61 of Head Room
FormerExecutive Editor.
It was a tough time in the news business.
Perhaps especially for newspapers.Many had folded.All trimmed.Some bought.
It might look like a benefit to be bought by a billionaire.But here was a shock — most billionaires chose to pad their billions, not to serve their communities or country.
The billionaire owner of Orson Jardine’s former newspaper was arguably the worst, including meddling in and hamstringing the newsroom, resulting in a flood of departures, some notable names, many professionals unknown to the public but respected by peers.
My connections said Jardine stemmed the owner’s depredations longer than anyone expected.
In the end, he had not gone gently — or quietly — into that good night.
His resignation statement was short, pointed, and much quoted.Not quite U.S.General Anthony McAuliffe’s “Nuts” response to a German officer demanding his surrender at Bastogne during World War II, but close.
Orson Jardine spotted me and stood.Mike and Needham followed suit.
“Elizabeth Margaret Danniher,” he said.“Good to see you.”
We’d crossed paths throughout my time in Washington.The sort of occasional intersections that start you talking to someone as if you knew them because you’d heard so much about them.
Sometimes those intersections deepened over time.Ours had remained professionally pleasant.
“Hello, Orson.It’s good to see you, too.”
Also astonishing, but I kept that to myself.
Shouldn’t have bothered with that exercise of restraint, because as we sat, he gave me a quick look from deceptively mild blue eyes and said, “Needham never told you we’re friends.”
I avoided the cliché of giving Needham a dirty look.“He did not.”
“Never came up,” the culprit claimed.“Not until Orson told me he was coming through town during a cross-country drive and I figured you all should talk.He’s not working and you folks have openings—”
“TV,” Orson inserted.He prevented himself from saying something else.Barely.
Good thing, because I might have said something that includednewspapersandmoribund.
Or, maybe not, since all traditional media had issues, hampered by the pesky professional need for facts and multiple reliable sources to attest to them, unlike entertainment outlets or the people they bowed to.Also subject to campaigns of disparagement, which a segment of the population gobbled up, because it was more fun to them than being called on to think.
“Your skills apply to TV news.”
Mike said it in a way that indicated they’d already talked about this while I’d been talking to firefighters, then visiting the Nineteenth Century.
“Especially for what we’re building.Further shaping the skills of young journalists, with a level of independence that will make your mouth water.”
Orson shook his head.“You’ve got intriguing ideas, but, as I said, I’m considering a few things, including traveling the country.It’s something my wife and I planned to do.She’s gone, but...”
He didn’t need to finish — if he would have — because a waitress named Stella arrived.
Needham spoke up.“Stella, would you take a picture of us?”
He handed over his phone and she took multiple shots of the four of us, before getting our orders.
After she’d left, Needham led the conversation into anecdotes that braided journalism, Wyoming, and their long friendship.
It took us through the meal.
“...This guy who’s headquartered in Colorado came to Wyoming,” Needham was saying, “and speechified about how the gravest danger was from out-of-towners shipped in to cause trouble.You know, the old dodge that it’s always paid agitators recruited bythem, never local people unhappy with what’s happening.
