My early career as a newspaper journalist started in the venerable Newspaper House of St George’s Mall in Cape Town. Back then, St George’s Mall was still a street with cars (before its current incarnation as a pedestrianised walkway), the ABC Standard Bank branch was still a bank and not a failed nightclub, and Newspaper House wasn’t all Food Lover’s Market with a rented space for a diminished newsroom upstairs.
It was the centre of the Newspaper Universe as I knew it, and I was proud to work there.
I can still see myself as a cub reporter: walking to work with a spring in my step; greeting the security guard who stood outside the bank with his hands clasped behind his back; picking up coffee at Mark’s Coffee Shop from the irrepressible Miena, who always had a story to tell; catching the lift to the fourth floor …
On the fourth floor was a large cavernous room full of characters straight out of Central Casting – the newsroom with the newsdesk and picture desk at the centre of it all, and the subs room where all the old curmudgeons would sit, occasionally wandering over to take you to task over some infraction in your copy.
There was a darkroom, the news library (both consigned to history now) and Mahogany Row, where the senior editors lurked in their private offices and bolted down their breakfast, hand-delivered from the canteen upstairs, after the 8am deadline.
In the basement were the presses. You could feel them shudder to life as they started to roll when the first edition went “to bed”. Ah, the presses. I loved those old, clanking, smelly machines down in the basement where huge bails of newsprint were threaded through and transformed into newspapers, neatly stacked on hoppers before being bundled and sent out into the waiting trucks, cluttering up Burg Street, much to the annoyance of the city authorities.
It was glorious. And I count myself lucky to have experienced those glory days. Anyone who has ever worked in one will know that nothing will ever really be able to replace the buzz of a newsroom.
I have been with Flow for just over a year now, long enough to reflect on how radically my life has changed in a short space of time, and also on how fundamentally the way in which we impart, receive, process and share information has changed without us even realising it. There’s been a lot to learn.
Back in the day, we had copytasters in the newsroom, people who went through the “wires” to see what the important stories of the day were. Today, we’re all copytasters, endlessly picking up snippets on social media, sharing them with our friends, our colleagues, our clients. Editors and news editors held sway on what went out into the world. Journalists were the gatekeepers. Today, it’s out there before the first daily news conference has even taken place.
Yet, I’ll be forever grateful for those formative years, just as I’m grateful that I’ve been able to move on in a company that values the skills I acquired there.
So, if you’ll indulge me, and as I watch my former newspaper colleagues struggle to find their footing in the shifting sands of a changing media environment, here are a few lessons I would like to share, garnered over the last 16 months.
Thank you, Flow, for showing me the way!
1. You can teach an old dog new tricks
Don’t think you are ever too old to learn new stuff or that technology is somehow out to get you. It’s not true. Technology is a tool. Use it for what you need. Steve Jobs knew that better than anyone else.
2. You are your office
In this new world, you don’t need a desk with family pictures, paper clips, a stapler (OK, sometimes you do need a stapler) and a landline, and everything else that goes with office real estate. All you need is a laptop, a smart phone, an internet connection – and, hey presto, you are your office.
3. Don’t underestimate how much you know
The old newsroom skills have more value than you think in a world where many people can’t spell, do grammar, summarise an argument, or write an attention-grabbing introduction or a headline.
4. What you’re called is less important than what you do
If you started out your career as a cub reporter, the chances are you’ll draw on those writing and reporting skills far more than anything you’ve learnt subsequently, even if it involved signing off leave forms, hiring and (hopefully not too much) firing, and getting the annual budget approved. So forget about the big titles. Do what you have always enjoyed.
5. You can roll with the punches
Really, those of us who have been around the block a few times have had to adjust to far more change than the youth can imagine. Don’t forget it.
6. Just because it’s on the Web doesn’t mean it’s true
In the age of digital self-publishing, it’s so easy for errors to circulate endlessly, far more so than in the days of print. Often a received truth goes unquestioned but, if you have any doubts, pick up the phone and check the facts or check in a real book. Just like you used to.
7. Authenticity is everything
Don’t write about things you don’t know. Received knowledge is fraught with error and pitfalls. Do stuff, see things, talk to real people. Just like you always did.
8. Don’t let it all hang out
Maybe this is a bit old-fashioned, but it’s all too easy to blur the lines between your public and private persona. Treat your pronouncements as you would a newspaper headline. If you don’t want everyone to know something, don’t share it. And be courteous, the way you would be in real life. Always.
9. To infinity and beyond
Like Buzz Lightyear, we don’t know where it all ends and what kind of leaps we’ll be expected to make. What matters is that we’re prepared to make them.
10. There are no good prawns
This is where the random comes in. I’ve been helping out on the WWF South Africa account for about a year now and have learnt a lot more about sustainable seafood than I knew before. So believe me, all prawns are unsustainably harvested. Don’t eat them.
