The New World Order   

The dotcoms and a changing work force impel newspapers to reassess how they treat the talent.

ELLEN RIEDER put it best.
This was back in the mid-'80s, when I was at the Washington Post. For weeks I directed coverage of the Walker spy saga, a father-son espionage drama that began with an arrest in Maryland--a local story that rapidly mushroomed into major national page-one news.
It was a great story, with all kinds of odd characters and weird angles. And while we were way ahead at the beginning, soon the New York Times and the L.A. Times were assigning platoons of people to chase it. The networks were in full pursuit.
It was an all-consuming adventure: long hours, weekends, whatever. There were some days I'd get in at 10 a.m. and leave at 1 the following morning.
Naturally I loved every minute of it.
Not long afterward there was another flurry of espionage cases: 1985 was to become known as the year of the spy. I returned to total immersion mode.
A few months later, there was some occasion that my wife really wanted me to attend with her. I promised her I'd get out at a decent hour. But, inevitably, there was a new spy development, and I was pressed into service once again.
I called Ellen to tell her that I wouldn't be able to attend the gig.
The response, quite rightly, was sheer ice: "I can't believe you're doing this."
"You don't understand," I said. "This is a big story."
"No, you don't understand," she replied. "It's always a big story."
The news business has never been for the fainthearted--or for anyone who was remotely interested in leading a sensible, orderly life. News, by its very nature, is an unpredictable beast. And when you're covering a big story, you don't just lateral the ball when your shift is up.
Doing whatever it takes has always been a critical part of the journalism ethos. And there's the dirty little secret: That's part of the allure. If Len Downie had approached me during the spy extravaganza and suggested I might want to take a day off, I would have looked at him as if he were crazy.
But it isn't just macho buccaneering that has created this world. It's what's expected of you by management (and your peers) from the moment you enter the business.
But change may well be in the air. As Sharyn Wizda reports in her sparkling deconstruction of newsroom culture, the notion that journalists can also have a life is gaining currency at America's newspapers.
For years newspapers have operated as if they're doing you a favor by letting you work there. Do everything that needs to be done, and more, and don't expect a lot of money for doing it. You don't like it, goodbye, and don't let the door hit you on the way out.
But today it's a new ball game. The labor market is tight. The field has lost some of its luster (how often do you see the words newspaper and dinosaur in the same sentence?). And, most significant, there are the dotcoms.
It's not just that the Internet is hot, sexy, the future. There's the actual cash--often far better than newspapers' notoriously low salaries--and stock options, not only for CEOs but for working press as well.
Of course, the recent NASDAQ unpleasantness and the ensuing dotcom shakeout have made it clear that the online world isn't necessarily nirvana (or Pearl Jam, for that matter). But the changes in attitude have been set in motion.
And the work force has changed: two-career families, women who care deeply about journalism but want to be mothers as well, young people who aren't sure that working in sweatshops in the boondocks sounds all that glamorous.
Suddenly newspapers have to compete for talent. Rather than sit back as hungry supplicants storm the barricades, papers have to do the wooing.
And so salaries are going up, at least in some places. Flexible schedules and job-sharing are no longer exotic concepts. And in some newsrooms, at least, bosses are paying more attention to developing the careers of their minions.
It's about time. And keep in mind: This mind-set isn't just good for the journalists. It also benefits the companies. New York Times Washington Bureau Chief Mike Oreskes, a big proponent of flex time, points out that he reaped major rewards by adopting that approach when he was the paper's metro editor. He was able to keep new parents in the lineup, so that their talent was still reflected in the paper and their careers weren't interrupted. It's a management challenge, but one well worth taking on.
Journalism can be a wonderful way of life. But while it can seem that way sometimes, it really isn't the only thing in life.