Bob McCarty Writes

Below is Part Five of a series of posts I’m sharing with readers of this blog today. A change of pace from my usual writings on humor, politics, culture and capitalism, this series represents the first few chapters of a book I’ve been writing for several months. It draws from my background in the Air Force as well as from my experience in politics and public relations. I hope you enjoy it, and I look forward to your feedback.

.

SCRATCH OFF

By Bob McCarty

Copyright © 2008 Bob McCarty, L.L.C. All rights reserved. Any reproduction, publication or broadcast
or other use of this document without the express permission of Bob McCarty, L.L.C., is prohibited by law.

.

During a meal of “steak-burgers,” they talked about the events leading up to – and following – the death of Josh Kastens. Schramm listened more than she took notes. It was clear to her that this man needed someone to talk to him far more than he needed his name in the newspaper.

“Where are you headed?” she asked early on.

“I’m on my way to the airport in St. Louis,” he replied. “There’s a flight to Tampa at 8 o’clock in the morning, and I hope to be on it.”

He explained that he had 30 days of leave ahead of him before he would return to Iraq. Several seconds – maybe a minute – passed as Schramm tried to figure out where to go with her interview from there. While thinking about her next step, she pretended to concentrate on her food. Then he broke the silence.

“Everyone told me I shouldn’t feel guilty,” he explained, “because the plane’s engine quit, not me. But I can’t escape the feeling that I could have done something more, been more vigilant. Something.”

Sensing he wanted to talk, she began exercising proven interviewing techniques – nods of understanding, long periods of silence after questions – to make that happen. Even the most-tortured souls had opened up to Schramm when she employed these tactics. Now, she had a willing participant who, it seemed, might virtually “sing” under her journalistic spell.

“Have you spoken to Sergeant Kastens’ family?” Schramm asked.

“Only briefly,” he said. “He was pretty shook up.”

“I can’t imagine,” she replied, prompting a response.

“I thanked his dad for his incredible sacrifice and delivered some of Sergeant Kastens’ personal effects, including a letter he had written to his father.”

“Do you know what he had written in the letter?” she asked, sensing the captain might have something very poignant to share.

“I do,” he replied, “but I’m not at liberty to discuss the details. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” she answered.

“Are you going to talk to him before you write this story?” Jones asked.

“I hope to, but our paper has a long-standing policy of not pushing for interviews with people who’ve just lost a loved one,” she said. “In fact, we usually wait at least a month before we approach them — if we approach them at all.”

Secretly, Schramm hated the policy, thinking it would prevent her from ever being able to write the gripping, emotional stories that earn awards and pave the way for small-town reporters like her to land on the staffs of big-city papers like the Chicago Tribune or St. Louis Post-Dispatch. But that was life in the small-town, family-owned newspaper business.

“That sounds like a pretty decent policy if you ask me,” Jones said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” she said, “but I’d like to get a number where I can reach you in case I have other questions.”

He gave her his cell phone number, shook her hand and walked out the door.

For Schramm, the interview was over, but the story had just begun, as they say in the news business, “to get legs.”

To people who read the article in the Sunday edition of the Effingham Daily News, printed and delivered Saturday afternoon to please local advertisers, it seemed as if Schramm had soaked up each of the tears she and Jones had shed during the interview and arranged them as an emotional stream of word pictures, each capturing a different emotion related to the story behind Josh’s supreme sacrifice.

Well-written, the article was picked up by hundreds of newspapers and magazines across the country during the days that followed. It was also the type of article many people forwarded to family members and friends, especially those with strong feelings toward — or experience in — the military for weeks to come. By e-mail and by old-fashioned news clipping, Schramm’s article became the fodder of many kitchen table and country café conversations. She had, indeed, struck a patriotic chord.

Other reporters who covered this story of a war hero’s death in small-town America struck a different chord. It seems many found ways to weave coverage of anti-war sentiment into the story. Worse still, they used the story of Josh’s death to segue into what they called “more disturbing news from the war zone.”

On Sunday, Schramm was still in bed when her cell phone rang at 10:10 a.m. It was her editor, Kevin Hassler, calling to say Josh Kastens’ dad had left a voicemail message on the newspaper’s Reader Hotline answering machine this morning.

“He wants to speak with you,” Hassler said.

“Are you serious, Kevin?” she replied. “What did he say?”

“He’s tired of the way most people are reporting about the war,” he answered, “but he liked the interview you did with that pilot and thinks he can trust you.”

“Whaddya mean, thinks he can trust me?” she quipped. “You know darn well he can trust me! What’s his number?”

Hassler gave her Kastens’ number.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 Bob McCarty, L.L.C. All rights reserved. Any reproduction, publication or broadcast
or other use of this document without the express permission of Bob McCarty, L.L.C., is prohibited by law.

>> Part Six <<

To read other SCRATCH OFF posts, click here.