Tales From the Newsroom: Getting the scoop
Having friends in low places can help you beat the competition to the story
When I was first cutting my teeth in journalism, my friend Erica — whom I’d helped to hire at a quarterly tabletop magazine where I was a senior editor — put in a good word for me at the San Diego Evening Tribune, where she’d been a music stringer after I got fired from said magazine.
I got a trial assignment — preview a local talk by Rolling Stone reporter Hunter S. Thompson — and even though HST wouldn’t give an interview, I got the emcee, former San Diego Mayor Roger Hedgecock, to go on the record with observations about what might be expected from this talk.
Apparently I did okay, because I ended up in the pool of regular freelancers.
Local roots rockers The Beat Farmers had scored a deal with Curb Records for their 2nd U.S. release when singer and guitarist Buddy “Blue” Seigal up and quit the band.
It was no small job to replace him, because Buddy shared the lead vocal and guitar duties with Jerry Raney, and had written some of the band’s signature songs: “Lost Weekend,” “Goldmine,” “Gun Sale at the Church.”
Not too long after, Buddy’s new band, The Jacks, got a recording contract with Rounder Records.
I knew Buddy from his time in the Beat Farmers, and so reached out about doing a feature article about the new record.
“Trag, I’d love to, but I already promised the Union an exclusive — and they will cancel the story if I break that exclusive.”
I was pretty ticked off — not at the reporter, who was just trying to hustle writing gigs the same as me. But the San Diego Union, the morning paper, was always pulling these power plays on the other papers and even TV stations in town — including their own sister paper, the evening San Diego Tribune.
(It was to the point that everyone else in town — the Californian, the Star-News, the Coast Dispatch, the Blade-Citizen, the Times-Advocate — all knew that we’d just have to wait until the Union ran their big season announcements for the Humphrey’s By the Bay annual concert series, as well as new season announcements from the San Diego Opera, and our main local theater companies: The Old Globe, the La Jolla Playhouse, and San Diego REP. I think even the annual county fair had to give the Union a 24-hour advance window or the Union threatened a coverage blackout.)
I couldn’t be mad at Buddy, either — Sunday’s edition of the Union was the biggest outlet in town: Even lots of folks who subscribed to the Evening Trib Monday through Saturday also got the Sunday Union. A nice profile in Sunday’s paper could really give a boost to his new band and new record.
But I didn’t have to like it.
I reached out to my editor at the Trib, Hawk. He was even less happy than me. Hawk asked if I could get a review in for Saturday’s paper, the day before the Union’s big feature story.
As I recall, this was all happening on a Monday or Tuesday, so time was short.
I told Hawk I thought one of the publicists at Rounder I’d worked with on coverage of other artists on their roster might be willing to help. He said to run with it. I called my contact at Rounder’s corporate offices in Cambridge, Mass., and asked if we could get a review copy of the LP overnighted on our dime.
“I would, Jim,” she said, “But I haven’t gotten any product yet from the pressing plant.”
I shared this with Hawk — who was editor to my reporter for a reason.
He never missed a beat: “See if she can make a cassette tape for us — they must have some copies of the final mix around the office somewhere.”
I called her back. I could almost hear her smile at Hawk’s suggestion.
Thursday afternoon, Hawk called me from the Trib’s newsroom — the cassette tape had arrived via overnight express. I only lived about 10 minutes away, so I hopped over, got the tape from him, and headed home.
While nearly extinct, afternoon newspapers were curious creatures in that the press usually started around 11 a.m. to get papers out on the street by 4 p.m. Deadline was often around 8 a.m. for the first edition of that day’s Trib.
I listened to the cassette copy of “Jacks Are Wild” a couple times straight through to get a feel for the songs and the mix, wrote up a review on my home computer, printed it out and then headed back to the Trib newsroom late Thursday night. Hawk found me an unused terminal, and I re-typed the review into their system.
Friday afternoon Buddy called me — and he was hot. Not at the review, but because he assumed I’d cost him a highly valuable spot in Sunday’s Union.
After letting him cuss me out a blue streak (there was no point in even attempting to interrupt Buddy mid-vitriol), I waited for him to take a breath, and then jumped in: “BUDDY! CALM DOWN!”
“I’m not going to calm down, Trag, you screwed me over!”
“No. I. Didn’t. The article will still be in Sunday’sUnion!”
“Didn’t you hear what they told me?”
“I did, Buddy. I did. But I also know how a Sunday daily paper is printed: They don’t have enough presses to run the whole paper Saturday night. The inside features sections — including Entertainment — are printed ahead of time, then set aside to wait for the Sports and News sections to print Sunday morning.”
There was a long pause.
“You sure?”
I was.
I didn’t have to wait long to hear from Buddy Sunday morning.
“You were right, man. The story is in today’s paper just like you said. And your review was pretty solid, too.”
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Note: This story has been updated to reflect that the article in the San Diego Union was not written by George Varga, as I had mis-remembered, and that my review ran in Friday’s Evening Tribune.
Cool story, btw. Sounds like Hawk!
Buddy didn't like it when I beat him in pinball. Wish he was still around.