THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, May 22, 1996 TAG: 9605220201
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: CHARLISE LYLES
LENGTH: 61 lines
I heard the news of Adm. Jeremy ``Mike'' Boorda's death while searching a newsstand for GQ magazine.
Gentleman's Quarterly is not my style, but the June edition features a story about Janet Cooke. In case you don't remember, Cooke is the Washington Post reporter who fabricated a story that won a Pulitzer, journalism's highest prize.
Eventually, Cooke admitted that she dreamed up the story of an 8-year-old heroin addict. She returned the prize, a disgrace to her paper and profession.
Unable to find a reporting job, Cooke disappeared into a sort of newspaper purgatory, resurfacing in GQ 15 years later.
I itched to read of Cooke's sin and journalism's sin, and, hopefully, of lessons learned.
Why had she lied? Why had editors been so eager to publish that they ignored red flags glaring like a train-crossing gate?
Because they wanted to get ``the story.''
The Cooke episode remains a stupefying example of journalism's dogged quest for ``the story'' gone haywire.
Janet Cooke, journalism and ``the story'' were on my mind Tuesday as I watched perspiration and tears trickle down the cheeks of a petty officer seated near me at the Norfolk Naval Station memorial service for Boorda.
At Pier 12 on the aircraft carrier Theodore Roosevelt, a merciful breeze blew and the sky dulled blue like a fresh bruise rising to the skin's surface.
Below in rows and rows of seats and sweltering, mid-morning heat, about 2,500 sailors gathered to honor their chief, a guy with an impish grin who bootstrapped his way to the top.
And there I sat among the Navy's sweat and tears, a journalist feeling sullied and sorry for my profession.
Boorda's blood had flowed from a handgun blast to the chest only hours before a scheduled interview with Newsweek magazine.
Reporters planned to question him about combat a ``V'' worn on two of his Navy medals. None of Boorda's citations authorized a ``V.'' He had taken them off a year ago.
To Boorda, a man whose reality was rooted in military echelon and honor, the ``V'' inquiry was, perhaps, the final trigger on a troubled watch. The Okinawa rape, another sexual harassment incident, F-14 crashes.
To some sailors, the ``V'' is a serious matter of integrity. To others, it's not such a big deal.
To Newsweek, it smelled like a story, a big one. Perhaps acting on the advice of part-time editor and retired Army Col. David H. Hackworth, , editors may have allowed their perspectives to be skewed toward military concerns.
To me, the citizen, the ``V'' was a trivial pursuit. To me, the journalist in a Navy community, Boorda's transgression was perhaps worthy of a daily story. At least, a blurb. Or a thumbs-down in a People column.
Unless, of course, Newsweek knows more. Otherwise, the magazine's action and approach reflect a loss of perspective, the newsman's dogged pursuit of ``the story'' gone awry once again. Horrifically so.
In a moment of silence, the hissing hum of the ship's blowers couldn't drown out the sound of a thousand unanswered questions.
Among them my own. Of what value was this story?
Taps cried from a trumpet and the woman sailor near me wept behind sunglasses.
Among the final prayers was this: ``Let us seek ethics and justice . . .'' by CNB