News flash: Words still have power

I used to write for a daily newspaper. The oldest one in the state. Was it the best one? Considering our size and budget, most likely not. But I like to think our writing and reporting held up to anybody. We had a small newsroom, a few guys in their 30s, gasping their last breath of idealism. We did good work, racked up a few honors, and our stories were picked up regularly by the Associated Press. I recall sitting in a barber chair one afternoon and hearing a story I wrote read on National Public Radio. No credit to me given, but I recognized the words. I felt great. Then it happened again. And again. And also to many stories written by others in our tiny newsroom. It was a pretty simple formula we had. No matter our political slants, we always looked for and acknowledged the elephant in the room, and reported facts.

This went right down to tiny items, such as hearing a business closed, or a prominent person died. News like that prompted an immediate phone call to first verify the fact. I thought of our tiny newsroom a few weeks ago when it was reported by the Pioneer Press that Cabina Italian Kitchen closed its Woodbury and St. Anthony locations.

The Pioneer Press first reported the news in late March. The Woodbury location closing didn’t shock me so much—it was in a tough spot, a “revitalized” big-box strip mall location south of I-94. But the original, St. Anthony location? I was skeptical. A coworker and I visit it occasionally for lunch and it always appears to do a brisk business. The food is simple, cooked largely from scratch. From my current perspective as the editor of a monthly publication, I put off calling either Cabina to verify the closings. I made a note of it, and moved on to other things.

A coworker was the first to make the call to the St. Anthony location—she has gluten issues, and that’s one of the few lunch spots nearby that has some tasty offerings she can eat. Sure enough, it was still open, and had been fielding calls all day because of the story. Adding insult to injury was three days later, the Star Tribune reported the very same news in another story.

One could (but shouldn’t) write off the PiPress’ mistake as just that, a mistake. But it appeared the Star Tribune’s error was a different animal: they possibly relied on another newspaper’s facts (which turned out to be erroneous) to tell part of their story. A simple phone call could have prevented the error in both cases.

I’m hardly in a position to become a journalism harpy, but it is important for folks in the writing profession who have an audience—myself included—to remember to check your facts. Particularly those that can directly affect a subject’s life and business. In the restaurant industry, with commodities costs rising and consumers clamping down on spending, incorrectly reporting a restaurant has closed to an audience numbering in the hundreds of thousands can put a serious crimp in already slim margins.

I didn’t reach Joe Schmidt, Cabina’s owner, in time for deadline, but I do know that he and his staff were actively combating the rumor of their demise—fielding phone calls, e-mails, and sending out coupons. Cabina Italian Kitchen in St. Anthony: STILL OPEN.


More on word power

People looked at me strangely this past month (well, more people than usual), and I couldn’t quite figure out why. I’d been wearing pants, and working on keeping my occasional lapses into profanity in check. Then, at a recent event I got an earful that could have explained those odd expressions, which was followed in subsequent days by an “editorial comment” from one of my very own columnists, Pat Lindquist.

Piecing a magazine together involves making editorial decisions for space, but Pat’s comments in her column were good ones, so here they are, in full:

A NOTE TO MIKE: Here’s my own small editorial comment while standing on a soap box (er, soup box), in defense of all foodies. I use the term often and proudly, with much affection. While Mike last month made fun of the term “foodie,” equating it with breathing (his made up word “breathie”), I’d point out we all take breathing for granted and go about our day to day business while doing it—and not thinking about it. We foodies however, never take food for granted. We love it in all forms and price ranges and want to learn more about it from growing and harvesting to preparing, presenting and preserving it and then dining in all levels of enjoyment. And if we are lucky, we can smile when we entertain, present and share our foods with others. All this more than once a day, if we’re lucky. What can be more fun than that (and it is still legal)? I rest my case.

Well, what can I say. Pat’s right. Apologies to all “foodies” who fall into Pat’s definition (which is a pretty good one. I particularly like her analogy that we all take breathing for granted, something that, given our increasingly troubled atmosphere, we shouldn’t). I’ll admit I was probably in one of my moods writing last month’s piece, typing after being accosted by a gin-soaked narcissist spouting fine-dining anecdotes and abusing restaurant staff. In my younger, more undisciplined days, I might have beaten that person to the floor because of their arrogance and boorish behavior.

But I’m older, much more sophisticated, and can’t afford to break any more knuckles now that I type for a living. And that was just one person behaving like a boob.

Further, according to Pat’s definition, which sounds like a fun and inquisitive club, I am a “foodie.”

But I still dislike the word. JUST THE WORD, folks. Not the people who claim to be one. Must be a phonetic thing. Can we find a different one, please?