Several weeks ago, I had a chance to speak with a journalism class at Emory University on how we respond to questions, concerns – even compliments – from our readers.
That afternoon, as I clicked through my PowerPoint and shared my stories, the newsroom grappled with a real-life example: Days after the bombings at the Boston Marathon, we published a graphic from one of our wire services on how a simple pressure cooker was used to carry out such evil.
Even though our intentions were pure, some readers thought the graphic included far too much detail. (For the record, we weren’t the only newspaper in the country to run the illustration, and others, such as the Detroit Free Press, also had second thoughts.)
“Sure, the information is available on the internet,” wrote one reader, named Ben. “There are crazies out there who are not smart enough to do research, but with your help, can build a bomb.”
Tracy Brown, our daily A1 editor, crafted a response: “I can tell you that it would never be the intention of the AJC to show people how to make a bomb or any other device that would cause harm to others – even if it’s readily available on a simple Google search.
“Certainly, there are readers who are curious about how a pressure cooker could be fashioned into a bomb, and, yes, it’s our job to inform. But we probably could have done that just by showing the portion that details how a pressure cooker works in general … At the very least, perhaps we could have changed some of the language.”
Ben’s original note ended with these stinging words: “What is the matter with you?”
Ouch.
Yet, after reading Tracy’s response, Ben wrote back: “I am pleasantly surprised and grateful … If there were more like you, I’d probably have a better opinion of the press.”
That kind of reaction reinforced the point of my lecture at Emory – certainly better than any PowerPoint ever could: No, we don’t always get it right. When we don’t, we owe it to readers to let them know. Even if we disagree, it’s important that we treat our customers with respect. And each query deserves a thoughtful and timely response.
As I told the class that afternoon at Emory, I’m always surprised by how grateful some folks are to hear back from an editor or a reporter.
Remember the Kermit Gosnell case? He’s the Philadelphia doctor found guilty of murdering three babies who were delivered alive in his abortion clinic.
We heard from several readers who thought we ignored the story, which became a flashpoint in the nation’s debate over abortion.
One of those emails came from a reader named Gary, who was pretty upset. Once we pointed out that we published 15 stories throughout Gosnell’s trial, Gary wrote back: “Thank you. That’s positive and encouraging. And thanks for your rapid reply.”
Of course, not every concern deals with such serious issues.
For many readers, our puzzle pages serve as the perfect diversion. So when there’s an error, readers quickly let us know.
That’s exactly what happened in March, when we mistakenly repeated the Friday puzzles in Saturday’s paper.
I swapped emails with one reader named Dave, who described himself as a “retiree with time on his hands who LOVES the puzzles!”
We apologized for the mistake and let him know that we’d be publishing two days’ worth of puzzles in Tuesday’s paper.
“I am very impressed by every aspect of how you handled my complaint,” Dave wrote back. “You and the AJC are aces with me.”
During my lecture at Emory, one student asked how often we hear from readers who have good things to say about our coverage. As I told the students that day, it happens more frequently than one might think.
There was this letter, for instance, from an elementary school class in Marietta. The fourth-graders wanted to thank Mark Davis, one of our reporters, for his recent story on a disease threatening millions of bats.
“Our teacher read us your article … This year we learned about becoming strong writers, especially in non-fiction. You used some of the strategies that we learned this year. One of them was using a narrative to open your piece. It ‘hooked’ us to the story right away!
“You also used descriptive language to ‘show-not-tell’ the details. As we read the story, we could picture the ‘shadowy figures’ as they darted across the dark sky. Your word choice made the story fun to read and not boring …”
While those letters are always much more enjoyable, please keep the emails and phone calls coming.
As I told the students at Emory that day, your feedback helps us improve.
