This is our fifth issue and I’ve learned one thing very quickly that seems to be repeating itself: Locals love to tell a publisher “the latest news” they learned, but remember, it didn’t come from them.
This is helpful only to a point. Two weeks ago in this space, I mentioned being blind-copied on a few emails and I’ve now had the time to look into an allegation against a person running for office that was detailed in one of them. I needed more information, so replied with a few questions. Silence. So then I contacted the agency they had mentioned and got an update from them. Again, I needed this person to go on the record for the story to proceed, but they ghosted me. Funny thing is, the agency in question cannot seem to reach this person either and are now unable to investigate their claim.
Am I paranoid? I find myself asking the question: Is this a real person, or coming from a fake email address that was created by someone (maybe another political candidate?) with ulterior motives looking to “plant” something in the local press? This was the second time this week I’ve paused for a moment and looked around me because I feel like I’m living inside a reality TV show.
Is this actually real life? Would someone go to these lengths to get the upper hand in a political race? From what I’ve seen so far, Platte County politics as a whole is a “win at all costs” game.
The first time I questioned my reality this week and what was happening around me occurred at the Platte City Board of Alderman meeting during the Flock Safety camera discussion. The Tuesday evening meeting had started out normal enough, but then quickly turned into a heated shouting match with one resident so upset during her public comment speech that she was literally shaking. Then another man shouted something dramatic and stormed out.
I haven’t had time to watch network TV for months, but whatever airs on Tuesday nights cannot possibly be as theatrical as what’s happening down the street at your local city hall.
I had two other instances this week, one by phone and another in my office, where newsmakers were candid with me and admitted, “I don’t trust you yet. Is this really off the record?” I completely understand that, because I found myself thinking the same thing. Can I trust this person? Why are they telling me this? What do they get out of it? Trust takes time to build, in both directions.
One text I received from another person summed up my week of chasing news: “Wild [expletive]. This county is a cesspool of corruption and nonsense.”
Are you familiar with Jack FM? Yes, on traditional radio. In your car and not on Pandora or Spotify streaming apps. Josh and I have wildly different tastes in music, but typically agree on this station because it plays a variety of rock, pop and alternative hits we both know and enjoy. Even better, they don’t have traditional DJs that talk so much you’re forced to change the station to find actual songs. Instead of live hosts, the station uses the voice of “Jack,” which are pre-recorded voiceovers that feature witty, sarcastic or ironic one-liners.
These always make us laugh, spur conversation, or sometimes inspire us to create our own.
Earlier this week, we had fun coming up with a few of our own in The Landmark’s voice. I joked that we should use them in our advertising. After all, we want to stand out from other local media for the right reasons.
“The Landmark. We’ll never use the word ‘rumor.’ Especially on the front page.”
“The Landmark. Where you won’t see a mint julep recipe (from the internet) in print.”
“The Landmark. We do our own reporting. Not say what others have already reported.”
Some days, when the news you’re covering is especially serious or sad, you have to find a little room to laugh.
In the midst of running the newspaper, I’m relieved to report that we are now officially Platte City residents and have survived, I mean completed, our move. I’ve always wanted to live in an old house that has character and now we do. The early 1930s floors creak, the concrete basement smells musty and reminds me of my grandparent’s house and it’s dead silent.
There’s no people screaming in the street, neighbors fighting through open windows, traffic whizzing by or sirens blaring. It’s wonderfully peaceful compared to the big city bustle we’d grown accustomed to.
Before the move when we were discussing which Platte County city we wanted to settle in, I told Josh Platte City is a pretty small town and he’ll have the opportunity to really get to know people. The coffee shop owner will recognize you as a regular and call you by name. They’ll ask your dog’s name and how the business is going. His response was an excited, “Small town? Like 25,000?” My reply was, “Um no, less than 5,000.”
We’re in the midst of an adjustment period, but so far the change has been a welcome one.
