<%BANNER%>

The Miami Herald and the Miller Effect: Literary Journalism in the 1980s

xml version 1.0 encoding UTF-8
REPORT xmlns http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitss xmlns:xsi http:www.w3.org2001XMLSchema-instance xsi:schemaLocation http:www.fcla.edudlsmddaitssdaitssReport.xsd
INGEST IEID E20101119_AAAADK INGEST_TIME 2010-11-19T21:11:17Z PACKAGE UFE0012301_00001
AGREEMENT_INFO ACCOUNT UF PROJECT UFDC
FILES
FILE SIZE 6378 DFID F20101119_AACIXK ORIGIN DEPOSITOR PATH stanton_d_Page_63thm.jpg GLOBAL false PRESERVATION BIT MESSAGE_DIGEST ALGORITHM MD5
5e7dfd6ff6201418c7d83e1a9978a2ef
SHA-1
c968eaee4e0016b49766a5193aa940ea5e57422f
28824 F20101119_AACINQ stanton_d_Page_04.jpg
e1222d9d97aae755a125c098a7760441
4e02f056df9ebd99afeb8c747ba152f4c584a59e
1053954 F20101119_AACIIS stanton_d_Page_02.tif
5a4bc56a954c5024084ab7e64c0421ed
ee4c67f0a41cc5e916a6e2235f6ef9a30da14384
41760 F20101119_AACISN stanton_d_Page_19.pro
f411fd3c4b57ced21f9cef91b7ac05c8
3e036fe7305d9085d9ab0a8536a6015f33544dda
9218 F20101119_AACIXL stanton_d_Page_64.QC.jpg
c3c8e415e79e88e3929a23bb3560ca7b
096daa221c052ae48a32c805fd895086a28e8df6
37280 F20101119_AACINR stanton_d_Page_05.jpg
724b4a08124960022ac806a890102503
b0c1c004df4ac2db7743ede155ecad7d273c4530
49477 F20101119_AACIIT stanton_d_Page_24.pro
80a20610835f33f443f7fb5062f0a5b0
dd17cdc0351379e843500992ff75b55194d9fa01
47721 F20101119_AACISO stanton_d_Page_23.pro
e15ecf165c0162157df346db4ce65cec
ea8ed9b4e323168d8389d0ec300da442f3aad522
6076 F20101119_AACIXM stanton_d_Page_65thm.jpg
bcb12b8b7d10d17970e771439fdf94de
2f9a4440bab0c3b244e9551c9adcec53567aed3e
50270 F20101119_AACINS stanton_d_Page_06.jpg
506e1b06b2dd004057527f216f8c2cde
b70c5276e421d3037092d9af974088f4c1c8d330
6572 F20101119_AACIIU stanton_d_Page_49thm.jpg
ece9accd8210ccb925ac6f5d016ef643
34b67c57c7302a7394ead7284f4574820c4efbb3
10390 F20101119_AACISP stanton_d_Page_25.pro
5e90527117e9d9d5bddd4de8d7e4e66f
702916a159572114ca8314f6bc8006fcd1ee5973
23115 F20101119_AACIXN stanton_d_Page_66.QC.jpg
3cc03a016a41190ad64c596e39dc850f
fea7522586d499e08f252180ab75973f3c10333a
6562 F20101119_AACIIV stanton_d_Page_30thm.jpg
7bba4d78c06585b583484535eb4b1c1f
13e957dfab90198d70b0a17d7d654a6318792a8e
43554 F20101119_AACISQ stanton_d_Page_26.pro
727a996942257f86849629b5246f0c91
686afde1024ab1a15ac9b98115fa8253f88c23a9
6138 F20101119_AACIXO stanton_d_Page_67thm.jpg
3d005d822f310395e55ae07baa187a8a
7b6df1b24f234475348d441b40a235750ee17770
68284 F20101119_AACINT stanton_d_Page_08.jpg
f50af5f2d39b5e585ae27186b00c97c7
6a8f5545d5de674b39cfda9200b7c2c8d4a5a713
26181 F20101119_AACIIW stanton_d_Page_33.QC.jpg
4a0ce6c4595dd25a1c145ff9376b02fc
438a297e4c9758ed8d51f786b662472b9b78a81d
60694 F20101119_AACISR stanton_d_Page_27.pro
37925489b824a2ba019879f916f59fa0
dc456177e3514f23b3ab6f409d13289fe26740ed
9252 F20101119_AACIXP stanton_d_Page_68.QC.jpg
bc365d6601bed0ef10760e7e2fef617b
126ea5e1075e676134f5e44df4e26bd57f329698
31625 F20101119_AACINU stanton_d_Page_09.jpg
a016c84cb59c9ca6bc6ee053b560f933
e535e106413d9e9c101255bd67852d923376f0ff
3214 F20101119_AACIIX stanton_d_Page_09thm.jpg
619bc4fedec7d85463688924d7c42e06
cb6e2abe0f7c6f952eba527f9a040aebbc11882e
59243 F20101119_AACISS stanton_d_Page_30.pro
65b225027eb3d783a5661e10ff8ea5b4
ed1d75a490e4a4e7b3d523b819f1776948c24fdd
80720 F20101119_AACIXQ UFE0012301_00001.mets FULL
86b238e25a130711df32a0baaacb6243
44857cf21eac262694f6de941ce90f97d3da43d7
63471 F20101119_AACINV stanton_d_Page_10.jpg
ccd357c9e9d814287af15a37122a19df
6187794ac5dea550443dadf1d93cc3e90c2eede4
25271604 F20101119_AACIGA stanton_d_Page_05.tif
68dc76c1b4ef9d6de80651269e566357
2f3c0f5746c6cf9f98515fd62776187304f00a45
F20101119_AACIIY stanton_d_Page_43.tif
e526584dfe52269d77fc8e5ea555507e
ffcaab1ea5d63b3bc996c98c3fb9ae18bdfdedc9
50480 F20101119_AACIST stanton_d_Page_31.pro
89e558948c48e896d86846cff5f9e3c9
ddc52779e40b562abf19b7f171c85a0d99239fc4
73816 F20101119_AACINW stanton_d_Page_11.jpg
085fbe2821fadfe2189c2f1f2ad17c1f
172403729a09ea3aa72a4fd42f0dfcef10f0cfcb
67245 F20101119_AACIGB stanton_d_Page_12.jpg
2036fc9d59d06eb5c3f900caac36c9e4
f4c54358c768db674e832ce848430596453b0a6f
F20101119_AACIIZ stanton_d_Page_39.tif
4e7e24dec783af7609a68bc71785d7d5
1466bdbf810b17f20d89bb99146f4b0a0ff39888
70348 F20101119_AACISU stanton_d_Page_33.pro
132bb318ba4f52c2cef70734b99d03e1
3560b472024e3421d5d75bcf012826880e05ade2
69673 F20101119_AACINX stanton_d_Page_16.jpg
d6ace1248960641d4ad8b7978c0ea67c
349ac92b7d8bfb043216293b24765658cc208f2f
2397 F20101119_AACIGC stanton_d_Page_48.txt
4739f45fae9ac1da92e92b78d0919baf
b86b19fffe05f5285d410a70994acd7e8a10f3f6
50450 F20101119_AACISV stanton_d_Page_36.pro
0cda8417c9ac3917c504eee081aef507
310a76ad9e3d3d0fde0a1d5e2effc8d9df7f4789
15084 F20101119_AACINY stanton_d_Page_18.jpg
974125176fbbeffcebf8521f04221a4c
9f3e294d43e0d389af0d3d7be072e94bdc4490f7
2536 F20101119_AACIGD stanton_d_Page_34.txt
1bbcfd2f0d582d47984c68e72be75fb3
0c82e0c1f2b1536fdd44e72ed86f40ea62254d9c
52139 F20101119_AACISW stanton_d_Page_37.pro
e817e9efe6b21281c0fac9e481e79310
757a0f9c59b425e3cc1a8ed0a21599d3953fc7a7
F20101119_AACILA stanton_d_Page_03.tif
aec2b45246e65c95050b8aec1caf95ec
e3c9900d0ca7bcde3414681fb21115266cd193fb
62791 F20101119_AACINZ stanton_d_Page_19.jpg
6166bdf31ad689b4f43e1a7565857e1a
58e82eef53d6ed6439b824998889fc29d4b88368
103921 F20101119_AACIGE stanton_d_Page_23.jp2
b92d2b0f20de724a39e422de9cf220e4
6e7b8047b0468f47f61ea1ac7e8b181141f4456e
51676 F20101119_AACISX stanton_d_Page_40.pro
c03f880bda1736dda21c006fccc24f28
9595f08c3264397089310084c6841ce9a58a2f4c
111544 F20101119_AACILB stanton_d_Page_11.jp2
5244329f1e904ac6c95dbc2b9ecd9ca2
c75db656b797b8286bd5858a8d0aec759433cda9
6833 F20101119_AACIGF stanton_d_Page_55thm.jpg
430b9f9231d268b278ecf31d17726cdc
8f1b658691dad246e8987c72e433e3cb60f673bb
92127 F20101119_AACILC stanton_d_Page_19.jp2
77e0006b63f2c3bbe7c5b5bcdce37820
3609f8537ab564abf0248a63cbab4e50bc088ea8
762 F20101119_AACIGG stanton_d_Page_09.txt
3958c5db2db94640f0853a2b064080fe
4a7b4ec8f8f590a54871b01e9fdf6d1f37c6c170
43835 F20101119_AACIQA stanton_d_Page_38.jp2
40338a5b9d01dd31e75d845361894855
d9a46d163efe1bcf2c3720885c1fedf08f87e5ef
57645 F20101119_AACISY stanton_d_Page_41.pro
b569a216e1e17db3a01b030d32a925cf
6914f9266383b56adce65c53f5ee5e704165dbd0
954078 F20101119_AACILD stanton_d_Page_65.jp2
c42a78324b09b541f3b3b6105957f405
261e8ca2df66f781e64d5cd42c32567de98a1142
6017 F20101119_AACIGH stanton_d_Page_52thm.jpg
44ec895de5c56bfdb18b6a81acc1b749
05d21b6de56bbece03205dc85fbc4b52d6c5d1b2
104566 F20101119_AACIQB stanton_d_Page_39.jp2
26204e0382a797a873dafeb0cb6a1a91
6a43741ecc7f795e1428088bd65e9d28b63183ae
61523 F20101119_AACISZ stanton_d_Page_43.pro
2ec2b68ad9fd3f9f56c39e3423534cd2
78f0b29a0652eb103e96460e2e5ab6257510f438
F20101119_AACILE stanton_d_Page_53.tif
7c4e3b75e2e5e01da998e10444334f78
bb68d94ef38a3c655b29095c502103df936a635e
10523 F20101119_AACIGI stanton_d_Page_38.QC.jpg
1d85e68524471b4652293ab7529e835c
8bd1f68e25a1daa007286657f5164c90f6df32d9
109170 F20101119_AACIQC stanton_d_Page_40.jp2
7dd5044f7c3db72cb52cba5ebf476439
de99529dd9eb6093e2295a508e1e3d74054d898c
24651 F20101119_AACILF stanton_d_Page_35.QC.jpg
f48c283251f8aba733571bc31debe328
a9b800663fcaca17ca6eaf1d714f8692c646fffc
11213 F20101119_AACIVA stanton_d_Page_07.QC.jpg
50a4812c2b8bc02057af2482d6f3325b
47c01da0b8b7806369d2b1492b5ba4a0e2f52142
70538 F20101119_AACIGJ stanton_d_Page_20.jpg
24eaa9cb60350ee7ffddf1cff5e96abe
f5acc127240e9d52c3199c6b8ea227fece6251e3
120462 F20101119_AACIQD stanton_d_Page_41.jp2
9d57188438d965db2b3457daed215f8b
ff742efd19074097c869deb0bd783457fbdb4a95
10991 F20101119_AACILG stanton_d_Page_05.QC.jpg
87f968fc4e3b01f2577e87d4ae7d4e34
1d3395dab9e6e2c266ebab45265eb7acd7491ee8
3555 F20101119_AACIVB stanton_d_Page_07thm.jpg
2d0c34dfb9411bcdfc0c974671552d84
b564caaeb36ae4fa762da6faad56786640288721
70496 F20101119_AACIGK stanton_d_Page_28.pro
f9eebcfe789fcc60f351e9c3cb98969a
d6564a167c5a3162c9aec0591ae54fa8decc2702
110025 F20101119_AACIQE stanton_d_Page_42.jp2
70a9160b9487282c79d4c14f190a414f
bc3cdec9cc53f5909bf55ea9396b431bdf952572
2064 F20101119_AACILH stanton_d_Page_36.txt
4bb2a2223e5bcb172d43a99b5a161422
8b143d5e2a063106869dd5a6cbbec81c72417cb8
21554 F20101119_AACIVC stanton_d_Page_08.QC.jpg
1f63a7c54f3d3fec1a214d8c482cf39e
9419de5fe0169a1e93b83c9f153d47725ad990a9
6368 F20101119_AACIGL stanton_d_Page_12thm.jpg
a671356355206e038c8872bffb5e15c9
88236ba571cd9e4a42756d6ed2b9d8478db61a33
125493 F20101119_AACIQF stanton_d_Page_43.jp2
64022870941baecea6af2cfef003febe
7bf7f97e3b5dd51b5b3ce790b44c76d3c5ba37cc
71178 F20101119_AACILI stanton_d_Page_31.jpg
2327f764739b5d7afb88b5e0289c0dac
e553ba07bcb9b58578dd0340aac397389d24e37a
5832 F20101119_AACIVD stanton_d_Page_08thm.jpg
aea35bc75755d11844373043baf8458a
6ecff3de07b899712dc6fde7420db9a10554d869
125349 F20101119_AACIQG stanton_d_Page_44.jp2
57b7c8135efc2797b3382b76208b3f1b
8cfeeffe208491bfda9af4e409700acbadf68184
56771 F20101119_AACILJ stanton_d_Page_32.pro
36eac1fa213e74c86b8b3f04919b361d
38d3ec02e316605c0834115518074492a40ee54d
20960 F20101119_AACIVE stanton_d_Page_10.QC.jpg
1931a384c692e2eabd4f6d9a727c4fea
ade9ae34a292f98d1ab462babe656842fb4d1f7f
26027 F20101119_AACIGM stanton_d_Page_53.QC.jpg
a96c095edf189bcff1cff1717e43ed3b
1764c44d8966cf0f443e04b930a23282e6a07077
100608 F20101119_AACIQH stanton_d_Page_46.jp2
e1b8d9ad34c5389804df88828b72ad46
93864cbaef782f3958438502b878c156d28de2fb
23872 F20101119_AACILK stanton_d_Page_32.QC.jpg
4f845787dfc056d7d5e7d68b19b1cc4f
f6e52a4cc26efa730d0007015ac1758e7c8b353c
5896 F20101119_AACIVF stanton_d_Page_10thm.jpg
07f812723fe0e9ea822b528bd1dd9cf3
42f05ffda54248390d0ea39077a957d468a9e395
24246 F20101119_AACIGN stanton_d_Page_01.jp2
2dd69bfdfab1ee6ce0cf43e25d288afb
20342429f3a8e889cfb96d7393812dc1210fd727
119525 F20101119_AACIQI stanton_d_Page_48.jp2
47f7a1fa0648f18fb112d8c968004843
4658f1f45ef40af4d40993c249312c78793826e0
6671 F20101119_AACILL stanton_d_Page_58thm.jpg
b1f2dc50390f937266fb5d9ac9cd2165
ad8b93c04d7dbee0698e35692503b61e9e6bc354
23977 F20101119_AACIVG stanton_d_Page_11.QC.jpg
ef7c425591294865649a05d976a03c26
913a3a92e5b0632ebf8b1262ae7e4c99359bf10e
50812 F20101119_AACIGO stanton_d_Page_22.pro
08580aeac2463326f30069672aec66a1
33c02267cd5c212b91e81259938f55657fc23ea6
114341 F20101119_AACIQJ stanton_d_Page_50.jp2
10fd25c4ddd230c003b6ed2f970f9c30
388ae7a92b571378d6a319c2581b242328f61f69
62736 F20101119_AACILM stanton_d_Page_35.pro
bbc38671786397a037948e0bc90f42f8
7ba68afbcf489b0a8cfddb989ebaaaa77a9d031e
6514 F20101119_AACIVH stanton_d_Page_11thm.jpg
a0d06794b43568124c0b5848dbc9889f
5b59145bd2ca7d89d7ac9910bddab1027dbe261a
108613 F20101119_AACIGP stanton_d_Page_20.jp2
c1d7219d847bd5756424ca717eb37db0
b317f640ab5a76ffd3e3058b80034248ea98bfc2
24922 F20101119_AACIQK stanton_d_Page_51.jp2
09e662d70b29857f397aa3538169fac9
e3817d3a2dd7d43a7d62b422bce8fd2fed17eb9e
2522 F20101119_AACILN stanton_d_Page_43.txt
afa97e03da4c1e61b637719acca68640
8b07235aa3be0af8a9ebfe9a04e120431bf17690
24856 F20101119_AACIVI stanton_d_Page_14.QC.jpg
457c44bf877a99f2d838db4b36956629
113c71bb4bbcd9166154ae1a850a356a0a9032e6
5576 F20101119_AACIGQ stanton_d_Page_46thm.jpg
5782256a1006c1477419408faeb54d0a
990c99e54928e84bb5273343640371d2cd450e5a
96856 F20101119_AACIQL stanton_d_Page_52.jp2
48d175a0a3e0c68d81b0de294bc21774
fa94260dfa1186a19f0bfb6af077d39d4c74b027
94713 F20101119_AACILO stanton_d_Page_60.jp2
38ffdd907a45907a89e10846fcb38422
0ee0d1d3e29bbe77d577e1180c207ab5dd5cf4d5
6551 F20101119_AACIVJ stanton_d_Page_14thm.jpg
3eac6773dee88ce7c00a5b76e42faf08
3b14283a7e1712675fff16d5509eaddb873a07e0
118391 F20101119_AACIGR stanton_d_Page_32.jp2
03b24e17f6af3293ea035e6d1a3293d1
ea0147bf288f208593d801fc4707344f46fb249d
133274 F20101119_AACIQM stanton_d_Page_57.jp2
01c4fde604677c331e00f4779a4e5a76
6b35fd01533188009b9b6fdbfe73bacf52f0a06b
106587 F20101119_AACILP stanton_d_Page_36.jp2
6ed33927c7a757a81e309624db013e14
7eaca94c5a120f61ed0c8b6c8bd12a96b95ecb12
22336 F20101119_AACIVK stanton_d_Page_15.QC.jpg
eec143cb21685fbbef91b0797985168f
3c2ef5b6c6eb48c08a07e58e47a234bce419820f
25484 F20101119_AACIGS stanton_d_Page_57.QC.jpg
8e065aa90520813d82ed4348c38ffaea
a190f2ce0c2257dfe6b7898ec55dc9a5e06557ab
123316 F20101119_AACIQN stanton_d_Page_58.jp2
98f60662a94c3f52e66a5157365b84d2
96bdd2cbe8d677b5ab1627aafd764639c020a24c
126927 F20101119_AACILQ stanton_d_Page_27.jp2
3515c77ca859a4d888cd075b9967a3f6
49c27d83e10f80d36a59ba72bc342f4c57d026a4
6536 F20101119_AACIVL stanton_d_Page_15thm.jpg
18c3401387281b423cf8adaba2dd9e5a
b35bdc826f99b805fb1ef98146682750ceb966ff
1718 F20101119_AACIGT stanton_d_Page_19.txt
01a7ed7eb8c45bedbb113da34e955c71
368d82f6ae61f6149845d8ac5e66ee020ffcc6f5
104177 F20101119_AACIQO stanton_d_Page_61.jp2
54f51a215156b977c54d7124710380dd
bc69016832a88bb4e9ecad9724ad7219f97fd1d4
21965 F20101119_AACIVM stanton_d_Page_16.QC.jpg
2163ed7f4b264adf6f2d8027ab73fc9f
b3892e9b397ab15e5cd3f8b5b7ea590cef032cd7
F20101119_AACIGU stanton_d_Page_24.tif
a42f226d37382799411e6afe5be1c36b
cdfe904105f85c6014d57d08cd5f8e022ed324a5
108107 F20101119_AACIQP stanton_d_Page_62.jp2
c74a526db683a78fa940870e8a29982c
d587cf13976185e8c787722fa989ab21cf6c19bf
23715 F20101119_AACILR stanton_d_Page_62.QC.jpg
f6f3f8d68f677d827e49bc3fae320ff0
ff3131920f165f4dee33429b9d4a872fb8e18d49
6120 F20101119_AACIVN stanton_d_Page_16thm.jpg
b0d649e45cfd281917475301a952b488
6b7c1d05218450770e68dc388bc1f0a7275f9886
5890 F20101119_AACIGV stanton_d_Page_02.jp2
8ed6122b790a14f2e226ecbc91e23b9b
8028c46f5121df8780fb22a9e49b1e925b5e2eda
103802 F20101119_AACIQQ stanton_d_Page_63.jp2
77bebef83cb828884c72ed6c9d004173
90a69f6b30aa041f81be75443f005f8a087a9a46
47360 F20101119_AACILS stanton_d_Page_15.pro
eea8c80acfef88780135ba477bce109d
2a5104c6ffa724ad2dbc22c44ef3d562a27c8564
23205 F20101119_AACIVO stanton_d_Page_17.QC.jpg
9d184f54c359685458ba071701c2f43a
c61f1a28a28acac59074ece64764fbe407d6dbf3
24740 F20101119_AACIGW stanton_d_Page_49.QC.jpg
530d4e6e2b5070b5e9de778fe307cf61
59d69a49ac90c73615ac33877f533ad3cd4bfb3b
1051955 F20101119_AACIQR stanton_d_Page_66.jp2
1a431858e05ef8c1733e321bef4ad728
b94c03b8373ddaa0bdde378e80da979ed381f76c
6116 F20101119_AACILT stanton_d_Page_51.QC.jpg
1303274e8671fdb80fab65edfa2278f8
6756b2cec316245f4ff6f2a908cfe9d83e839a3c
6605 F20101119_AACIVP stanton_d_Page_17thm.jpg
45d2c62c2e20fa6d2280114a22f4c8cf
8d0175621b9442100c6470c8bb20ff3b1fad921d
32256 F20101119_AACIGX stanton_d_Page_38.jpg
8334a22083d218c9ed13ab62a23ebf84
b53c2d4930772999e8d5776be401b630e110d942
1051976 F20101119_AACIQS stanton_d_Page_67.jp2
cda9bfbacfa07807856c7cd0b81fa4cd
743e1eb18f9bf0c59bc016dff5bf7551ecda21c4
2376 F20101119_AACILU stanton_d_Page_32.txt
0160568a18ab793e2c2a7140a836b62c
31a7c9a3922ac7430ba42e40de335e040ac1335f
1856 F20101119_AACIVQ stanton_d_Page_18thm.jpg
67dfee80fbbe6b558f4a58a6c6a5d6f4
8260628ab28df3c69f5b891ea99107514ef6c3bb
77809 F20101119_AACIGY stanton_d_Page_14.jpg
6bfa53ee055d7261e1e29a22745b0aee
2672883a597026eabd3e6f1e873edef097ada464
36301 F20101119_AACIQT stanton_d_Page_68.jp2
c901010c59f4556cf649b1548e0ca7ad
352093e16274551e5d3fcc3a439422facbfaf7d4
15336 F20101119_AACILV stanton_d_Page_06.QC.jpg
8004e3f894ea5a7b81e044a870545aee
5ff8f556ad30799b9b717a71606e933afa7c2a3e
5783 F20101119_AACIVR stanton_d_Page_19thm.jpg
bf3cc8e1fbe6682c156b7ed03c323f15
be3dcb3a8da7998407775d62106bc19d3479e37d
F20101119_AACIQU stanton_d_Page_04.tif
14ea503792097fc11849fd87205de520
699f1b1d87bb14a745d62a89205f4fffd1fe7583
F20101119_AACILW stanton_d_Page_44.tif
617f80601e55b3728b97e67857a024fe
79632b54f9faf298a233ff0c464b640d8de5ba86
1802 F20101119_AACIGZ stanton_d_Page_13.txt
cf2d128c79077a8015fcb7f48f254545
4d7d67d4cf884af6afc81249cdff8eef13ea775b
22891 F20101119_AACIVS stanton_d_Page_20.QC.jpg
2dbec348f0139a2d6fc0abdbed2afa4e
9e7c82db48f2a8b488a96746595c27295b9187f3
F20101119_AACIQV stanton_d_Page_09.tif
4ec75cec77b71ed88622a853b20b02b7
ff440ed515a1ec1cb4df1d7112492594d8fad1a5
2258 F20101119_AACILX stanton_d_Page_53.txt
b1c9e9493e06d9e73e67a6308cea429e
251d8ee68dd214d573212467dc914d802fd2c063
6357 F20101119_AACIVT stanton_d_Page_20thm.jpg
0bd9f1ca46b76a2ebf698fddfa0a39dd
49ee751fc7a121b0d472197ddbd7260c6928554e
21910 F20101119_AACIJA stanton_d_Page_63.QC.jpg
7de067023d0ad94455ca482e6d619042
9ca5d764e336c602061d7f81e52587e58b7c0598
116839 F20101119_AACILY stanton_d_Page_14.jp2
007fcd21eb7e83c0ee6989652688fd08
c4fa92a73619965c5b8444355efc4bd43b9df171
6370 F20101119_AACIVU stanton_d_Page_23thm.jpg
1dc66ce02eb9891af861951817e46531
ec647b90f0a06cbf086e40223183e9f1e1d5a68b
F20101119_AACIQW stanton_d_Page_11.tif
ce00afe8362c5777650aa173df31c419
9e92aff792ece02f824524937f47980f0a9718be
19882 F20101119_AACIJB stanton_d_Page_65.QC.jpg
7ef79824bbb78109e0caf738b63f33b2
e0133510e68feb4a6a605de2b8e9d179682e81b4
68536 F20101119_AACILZ stanton_d_Page_46.jpg
e3cdaeb8ab669500320af668b18aba24
874eccbcf4c030bbb420b4688d4fd7b64d0b62a8
23367 F20101119_AACIVV stanton_d_Page_24.QC.jpg
b25aa3782708e97b835f57484e22d14b
d28bf8c462c347359ba110c49d90769fbdbf480b
F20101119_AACIQX stanton_d_Page_13.tif
9c3eae6ff41200c52d97dec4333ebb78
7c4e01e10be887528019aaa684222c61297aebb9
6177 F20101119_AACIJC stanton_d_Page_13thm.jpg
d9aa1ecb3429fc0206818811b451a099
eeed36884c12cceb4689bee08241b2ad347b7336
7037 F20101119_AACIVW stanton_d_Page_25.QC.jpg
845a005ed10a25265c6861c342d54b5f
52911b44dfb9305e4a3085be56d22b9bab94aea1
F20101119_AACIQY stanton_d_Page_15.tif
7df13415c795f2218d8e5af39545f752
4449319631435c4b750c5cdd4df2320a310ee763
34133 F20101119_AACIJD stanton_d_Page_07.jpg
390267362a426bc9a6fef1ba0363b4ab
4143f74fa48005eb5aab7b2fddfd44d677932d1b
70647 F20101119_AACIOA stanton_d_Page_24.jpg
074280fcb0e00cf05d36a4c82092895c
62c7f7a17beaec473d354e3f6baa95f5f157bc43
2359 F20101119_AACIVX stanton_d_Page_25thm.jpg
37e9e72676f4942943e50190640e2405
f065f79a932b9c23fe406780bfac522f07fb0ad1
F20101119_AACIQZ stanton_d_Page_16.tif
91e0e6f0e486c376ab633f788fac0e45
340d0c042e5b3ab9f4a85273dc8394f7920e0038
1909 F20101119_AACIJE stanton_d_Page_67.txt
cfd52ab4a940e084b0828d9dc3f97fdc
3df532c9232a4deb6835d396bf1cd73075d27080
21207 F20101119_AACIOB stanton_d_Page_25.jpg
e15f13eceab37c51d87df86dc6340987
2aa1dfd32c6327287a2ec446d9bfb1a1ceeac6de
20067 F20101119_AACIVY stanton_d_Page_26.QC.jpg
8de94349798496a5518b39d67a21f53a
41c5e0cc0a827e6da9ab92f6fc093fe831fdd920
1926 F20101119_AACIJF stanton_d_Page_61.txt
c0fe9614b5559e41dbe6bfebc23bd978
6d20f3a88baf3119133695dbec4bcdd619f41b8d
63077 F20101119_AACIOC stanton_d_Page_26.jpg
b1f0eca403717088cb412baa6a5761d0
f5c40fd71dae8f441467c04f8b1902e5c3d02852
5798 F20101119_AACIVZ stanton_d_Page_26thm.jpg
f8329082ed3969fb7d7716356a463e44
5fc4f3a7dc792d73da9aae627a85d8d6cd128da5
1810 F20101119_AACIJG stanton_d_Page_10.txt
82618030e6f7a8421efc0698d58375b4
6b92ed11c6281b200bc7f9952b9da24cf9b0c3f5
61599 F20101119_AACITA stanton_d_Page_44.pro
ccad1784f61253ac7fa9fb6fb86f82e6
aac67e08db0f2c9b3fda50be4234e75c7ae9d215
83574 F20101119_AACIOD stanton_d_Page_27.jpg
e3e193724f8346f7989098606c814dba
f6e682ce1eb9fca933a3c9d2a4ab35f27a0ea0c3
72637 F20101119_AACIJH stanton_d_Page_22.jpg
fcd50393ffcda13be0623133276e47b3
83af177eb8058690cb396d069121e21418db5287
54886 F20101119_AACITB stanton_d_Page_45.pro
ad3b782b5102e6ef79bf19e6381a10f8
37d14c0d661fffa35b9c9e2ddfb5baeb370b2d8d
93438 F20101119_AACIOE stanton_d_Page_28.jpg
7ccb8d834b50e363eb3a9d33511d8b98
60e5c7b909c5211112dabf6640cc05a18b21c93b
105719 F20101119_AACIJI stanton_d_Page_16.jp2
edd4bbfa21fa93309a39400dc513e051
b7ce8de94b637a2fc87e7b7177efbd0437c43d96
58265 F20101119_AACITC stanton_d_Page_48.pro
cc9f699104c7aa2394488f57c94a9449
34a4807d3828144d20e6c0fe942969d915ca131f
85818 F20101119_AACIOF stanton_d_Page_29.jpg
56be7ab49db7ee250805199a35bcde1d
e4fc51fba84e23c1e30f4b234fa37544f807e277
F20101119_AACIJJ stanton_d_Page_01.tif
31966f84cbd7cda73a82d4211822debe
2baa83318275794a21e2e7523a1bc58e9e263950
10962 F20101119_AACITD stanton_d_Page_51.pro
7e216c404fc41549a4e13886b957e66c
bb840e82ce6b56b7c1e5bd8208031674c6cfadd4
81216 F20101119_AACIOG stanton_d_Page_30.jpg
ad498f488135b4f92aac86c8f6796d5e
b597b25f43e00cb92aa5cb6be85bf758ec3f5304
25511 F20101119_AACIJK stanton_d_Page_27.QC.jpg
bb466477715aff914b00dfcae5c1f3b5
046fa6cfe6817a0841c66d9873c8023e8f440390
62864 F20101119_AACITE stanton_d_Page_55.pro
2980376c1a4b443f4ac7fd15b455c02a
1a4d59db7a6d3179eb037aaeec3a62d5096ed142
78596 F20101119_AACIOH stanton_d_Page_32.jpg
fbdced53fab71301274c88ad3148f21f
682e99c833acc363156337360f977972768bb6f8
6698 F20101119_AACIJL stanton_d_Page_33thm.jpg
2f7882ee91babb6bd779dd7330b9a266
86139dce7f814e554fcfef730f93ab55b25dc6fd
56416 F20101119_AACITF stanton_d_Page_56.pro
940c13af6431f6b2d43ba4f225c2bd88
651f92e6b948f490e00964ab203a08e1d21b1435
96138 F20101119_AACIOI stanton_d_Page_33.jpg
8e3e3edfbb9adf91678325e8cb45ee27
ffdfe77c43104f732facad585542999e414227d8
52411 F20101119_AACIJM stanton_d_Page_42.pro
2886389180baf36c1f2613d2f562aa24
db030a06fb060dda5ff84e2dd942c97a515f09a0
65363 F20101119_AACITG stanton_d_Page_57.pro
79318fde508bd52a4643005c82a6d108
89f1bb1e8d7eaf354474ba0e76bfd11913a8e3b4
73271 F20101119_AACIOJ stanton_d_Page_36.jpg
16dfdc078ddb1c1caa298f13b9d987b8
720ac9a4a296a522e78117cc9f6dbbc431176a16
24386 F20101119_AACIJN stanton_d_Page_41.QC.jpg
23aafd4b35cfe8eab4e572e0c97800e8
7547693d2b98cf8abec5f1e44db62420b4775876
43198 F20101119_AACITH stanton_d_Page_60.pro
93fb218b552a09219c06109a22e8ab2a
cc2e050ae5ee3c3ed2e1a51a9e6745d9667a340a
75222 F20101119_AACIOK stanton_d_Page_37.jpg
7cf93faf41353ed7c2b8324882a3390e
d8e211cbf37486a926b37a1863136b1b1b69d3bd
99344 F20101119_AACIJO stanton_d_Page_54.jp2
1de94620867613fe1e92dbcbcfe51750
0fae83763c24fb9f57777bee554f559644580a88
50355 F20101119_AACITI stanton_d_Page_62.pro
3a8ea6ea93041c5a64d2e265f5162b2b
1b5e080bc69267151ad3237eb07fce6b7f5e8a7e
70381 F20101119_AACIOL stanton_d_Page_39.jpg
3e2894846c6f9a0f0cae689bd2dbf9f1
83e48bc7cfee19c1a69d3f0c3333541f30a6bcf9
47771 F20101119_AACITJ stanton_d_Page_63.pro
23b4c773b09a2cfeeb367c954ae634ce
f6283f130c2cabffcd2421672b015d5ac0cf145e
73849 F20101119_AACIOM stanton_d_Page_40.jpg
5c075d07b9504f6240a3703589662b15
9f0d5ecc4e74c1abbeea1d3489c8f03546f6e9d3
F20101119_AACIJP stanton_d_Page_14.tif
1bcfbbb642e7a0bfba2c3a9cdcd01e7d
bec0642f670b2d121a9562d426ff1f4c37be16a6
15386 F20101119_AACITK stanton_d_Page_64.pro
b23f3e71563b1cfdc86029d1c50b3e8e
247824964cd7a2d5707e2c132fd77cae3116bb03
79879 F20101119_AACION stanton_d_Page_41.jpg
c4ccfc58794ff0ae9907e3f6fa12f5b1
4609215f079dddb751845d1dd7b4adc6fa6ce216
F20101119_AACIJQ stanton_d_Page_56.tif
9baa0a82a707dcf4ccd96f60f6bfbfc9
88e6d00575c57b5c61cd9ba933fb1b2dcec3bddb
39639 F20101119_AACITL stanton_d_Page_65.pro
888928ed2a2dbfc4516ae61e475460aa
a3afec38c126421d00022f8d48c58bb5ac71b1c4
84478 F20101119_AACIOO stanton_d_Page_44.jpg
46fd1f6270a086f6cc75ccc75fb10002
a136858840700b2764f5a77f21f35422947a4315
45605 F20101119_AACIJR stanton_d_Page_66.pro
a526bcad97b1e06d44fba4dd768ccf88
8b752b5aaa8de30d036a97362454b5144f04f936
14899 F20101119_AACITM stanton_d_Page_68.pro
0e6037fab091c702ff353517d8bfa2ec
2417a4f30676db16842f83be60e26fa59c67ade5
76976 F20101119_AACIOP stanton_d_Page_45.jpg
e627352bdd7ab7c2d52d7f77d7d23cd9
7149da1ac7222eb8f3df69294a599a6f371ef0de
F20101119_AACIJS stanton_d_Page_19.tif
a723374202a8792a5c553d4b08f14d2d
958c88fd3363741c20fe7e3d89c7e8e9b9aa59e8
428 F20101119_AACITN stanton_d_Page_01.txt
a28e960044cddab6d2d8c51b122b1fbd
990c09f323c9800c81ee71cc855d001c5662fbe9
68893 F20101119_AACIOQ stanton_d_Page_47.jpg
af9cd75ce2ec36f4eb4f2edeb2b3557f
3fa5fca9e7f7c9380de6336f3cfe777db1cc2a05
2848 F20101119_AACIJT stanton_d_Page_68thm.jpg
33b5b05dcf5f3c9cb690b650f049ebad
64d193572b2a18dd88777e5d2361af42d711d7c0
110 F20101119_AACITO stanton_d_Page_03.txt
8f7c3dff0a530e2a851386fb0ec43b15
b5044be52aa58222f80130b2e9213cf973b80cc9
81688 F20101119_AACIOR stanton_d_Page_48.jpg
ce9640cd8a0253bc5da84d8c98da77f4
7d7159ebd6f9c76990e9d6c2587e47fba48c0fcb
F20101119_AACIJU stanton_d_Page_08.tif
99155c9e82c93eb9fbe51c1377364530
197fd2640c4e0e450f23b90ad3345b2c2a046d77
1520 F20101119_AACITP stanton_d_Page_05.txt
2874a231bff55aac3dda6d4076d92151
65507272946338869f830fb3374189daa922f5db
74720 F20101119_AACIOS stanton_d_Page_50.jpg
10893039ecc847eda68effefadc72cd6
6fbe69ce94de139b5c791048b1bf470581fbe63c
815 F20101119_AACITQ stanton_d_Page_07.txt
56642486197f43b6775a0d39c4c8c60c
69df679388a4be4b06ed18f82ccfc50cf2cdc4b2
21634 F20101119_AACIOT stanton_d_Page_51.jpg
50724663393094cc7dca379747e5a289
1dfdbdd53d13947a0529dd9e2a13f5d7e52fcc79
5914 F20101119_AACIJV stanton_d_Page_39thm.jpg
c0e8caf4a2c23bdf3d9d104978830ad0
7054386033ee9b9afef343ad60c41d16fd17c3ec
1962 F20101119_AACITR stanton_d_Page_08.txt
4d05ef68e54331b037c339370aa8a547
c645c67479002a4e5ab1e045b1abafb6a05e0f1e
69575 F20101119_AACIJW stanton_d_Page_21.jpg
2e12e5762828e4ed1dd0f12ac4056ba7
58148dcb10a49e87e494c6664749249f645f209c
2204 F20101119_AACITS stanton_d_Page_14.txt
f2bb59f22dcfec99429ffca91a0e4c21
b8633b65dd846b2cb4e349f8eb54d1680200f675
65153 F20101119_AACIOU stanton_d_Page_54.jpg
0931fe39c126263eac90a260a209551b
02662c35c520ec8527fb96772b65fec0049a7780
53935 F20101119_AACIJX stanton_d_Page_50.pro
5357e3b37fecd5bab26c9a6c27c05cb1
6f8f819d13997ff6b2c92f6c0463f9e16da30f5f
1979 F20101119_AACITT stanton_d_Page_16.txt
b97dde6bf963cbbf0780a58585f84913
08558bee792b3dff5ef83d81fec26c4eb846b9c3
87135 F20101119_AACIOV stanton_d_Page_55.jpg
469da4dda438b58dfba0a43ba49fb74b
8129ef276c9ed0a13c2b189d7d65245007a423d3
1961 F20101119_AACIHA stanton_d_Page_24.txt
181aea8ccde162a2fb43c5c5e8dabd92
9d2df8f776412e8c9fc04b6a4d06dfefc72dadd8
44021 F20101119_AACIJY stanton_d_Page_52.pro
7a3c5cb37c6192960d68a02b1087d56c
5303658d9f8cce03ec6ee7d76064af8ca25acc4b
1936 F20101119_AACITU stanton_d_Page_17.txt
634720307e515f43393e657c622d3d7f
cac7cae84ce440cb571cb29fecac9bb8c6be15d2
79525 F20101119_AACIOW stanton_d_Page_56.jpg
97496f072de64e903d99edeec3e05758
94530ec449dadb15141dc832068383a7ac00d5dd
20156 F20101119_AACIHB stanton_d_Page_07.pro
5b61f3cf4582edb61de9856d8426e615
6db766ffe193bab9045bddff305be62441d6c984
48889 F20101119_AACIJZ stanton_d_Page_21.pro
acfabddd51c29136aa5207f783c3d897
aad99634cf4630678bee986757773f8dc86b31ab
1969 F20101119_AACITV stanton_d_Page_20.txt
7bf29f5e8b5cb32efbdbda4da9416ae9
c5d7740a2e32fec1fc96dfc314d14b5952503ddd
88696 F20101119_AACIOX stanton_d_Page_57.jpg
a927d5ee26f0aa4f1ad6d0d76cc047ac
ab8e78b32aa11abc0c498bd6496749a1698f0948
F20101119_AACIHC stanton_d_Page_22.tif
dafe2ea1b73dd026cce2b40e7e1eef67
7b853ff91295e3d53fddfef9eede75ce37ba3b80
1934 F20101119_AACITW stanton_d_Page_21.txt
099c227817bebfc59d8710ef82d101c3
f2b38a89ae1a3ba55b0bb455c0a7ef5086ed30fd
5183 F20101119_AACIMA stanton_d_Page_18.QC.jpg
cfce77cab8121393880da5d9a65b24c6
11ac474140c1953e72566953484756f17e910229
82050 F20101119_AACIOY stanton_d_Page_58.jpg
2357ecd7d332a22bd090d342ef3b49e0
8e1ff0bfa67c28fc33e53f57ee2505f27bd06487
411 F20101119_AACIHD stanton_d_Page_59.txt
40f576cfe08c2072fa7562a0cb076d0a
abaf9582cec01d8006c7c58299f4ef2f0976668a
2011 F20101119_AACITX stanton_d_Page_22.txt
2b29470cb01e4a6b98bda41dc499b6b1
d965e4ff840cf9c0dd6649f453cf30fa1aaff9b5
27382 F20101119_AACIMB stanton_d_Page_64.jpg
5f3875ebe31313b8b4f13baf95470eea
57a0bed13a8f0b76231794158f8c3ea6ca53dc51
20160 F20101119_AACIOZ stanton_d_Page_59.jpg
6b4ba046b4342907974bbb67b373f560
faf34e5f24e3dd51a71cb1f205be50a73cc33013
46871 F20101119_AACIHE stanton_d_Page_67.pro
1f32bbdd9e1a8aa4088c5c5b42d31d53
e3734d93891ff205b83b77addb0b4db2deefcfd3
1888 F20101119_AACITY stanton_d_Page_23.txt
67780b75948581bbefbd682d02e744b1
447188c48d7dd58d075ea0ad81e81d66f6f3fab0
2321 F20101119_AACIMC stanton_d_Page_41.txt
1a958bed2cca979fc6f419c5ebe087e9
45f8e874829c0377c62356de4c887523bdc665fa
2051 F20101119_AACIHF stanton_d_Page_11.txt
fc8dfae2f5b0a50d6e756d475554f542
d1ae426dde09e848ac294fa08cdb1fcebffe6113
6469 F20101119_AACIMD stanton_d_Page_22thm.jpg
c0da94e2d968e48ea5c0874bf7a2311e
09efa815352e4e1b2f1b2382ee78fb30ecf94657
2564 F20101119_AACIHG stanton_d_Page_29.txt
c02cfcd8b8478a888caae4e4c97a391d
35d42a45b9c52b893d4bb736ea9d9e6e62c4fb6f
F20101119_AACIRA stanton_d_Page_17.tif
aa768aeae0bdd63378cc9fe129718094
af35fe2542678f3d3b22065e92100887c56ef83b
455 F20101119_AACITZ stanton_d_Page_25.txt
50718c058e2dbb52fe1a141cdafadbc3
b4a968e7d8bfdb3f02b6342dc762b2dada5a955e
F20101119_AACIME stanton_d_Page_07.tif
4b0986fc1669a91a3403bdae5550ce1f
0ed3e18f511aac6124a86969847460d9cf46b782
2089 F20101119_AACIHH stanton_d_Page_37.txt
0fbc23689c924bac52b15fb3b49e37ba
dcd031ec904a4aa58216340d9c42ef78775b9648
F20101119_AACIRB stanton_d_Page_20.tif
95753aca773a614b4f3bd96fc4fe144c
8d876dd1a305ab0d20dafe2d4634acd100a10282
6442 F20101119_AACIMF stanton_d_Page_48thm.jpg
505b4d30619b8442f2b8546a7dc8e57f
435e1cad760efee40b2054a607897e444cf18fc2
80434 F20101119_AACIHI stanton_d_Page_53.jpg
bd59a2044ff4784bf2b5c2c7fe9db53c
5ef99d8a66475e610e6be25288c0268d5887f32d
F20101119_AACIRC stanton_d_Page_21.tif
eb67df1b593dfe29b5450e2165cdae91
cf6c7929791f4c6f416bf4ca0702e51d9d1e3415
6739 F20101119_AACIWA stanton_d_Page_27thm.jpg
7c1dbd240a4259d78bc8662f1c43431e
50758e54646a075d2d9144bce38700d75111d5fb
F20101119_AACIMG stanton_d_Page_51.tif
740f5d1b859b422a5a21abcec56b3ba2
0e21a5d7e8e629da5ce9af1533fee9e6b1a075eb
130748 F20101119_AACIHJ stanton_d_Page_55.jp2
5d38ccbc9e5c426d3c0a7dd395fdd3bf
eca4844b1a17d5e5bff2584c0bc6170ac17e6029
F20101119_AACIRD stanton_d_Page_23.tif
4275ad93d9f145eed1ca7c5a509b453c
f2b6625770340226626bcfab816cce0c294b9a83
26746 F20101119_AACIWB stanton_d_Page_28.QC.jpg
cb42e2564a44ed4ee5d29635bd5c5d84
b3ee1e8052f7ab9d0f76da9bbb316b68e426c559
104114 F20101119_AACIMH stanton_d_Page_15.jp2
ea20f015a98dc0f954ddd4a95c2fa59c
47d5afb1499eb880fdaabdc37e49ddbbf2d084aa
1372 F20101119_AACIHK stanton_d_Page_03thm.jpg
db43ee56557a39a7f21329a53f37d157
19956dea744825b7ff738a866304d5dc2322aaba
F20101119_AACIRE stanton_d_Page_26.tif
1a16c5e6b6541ebf288c9b6b9a7527f6
976c8316b94e336baceabccf87466559a856bd67
25195 F20101119_AACIWC stanton_d_Page_29.QC.jpg
30204fc79a02db6056b296a5fb6be218
0ce720a9a5ea6d475e32f1d75c8e80db0ca77e0b
6302 F20101119_AACIMI stanton_d_Page_36thm.jpg
230a025723cfb194c448d32f1443716e
b86b83979eec39e0727bbb8b77e94cc1e6d31b63
F20101119_AACIHL stanton_d_Page_37.tif
9f4a74e37cbad3dfeadb259c9129eae5
7151340e489b3d0300b22b48ae74a061e0e622f1
F20101119_AACIRF stanton_d_Page_27.tif
01f1ac224a52eab04418959009ccae65
6c002da5520dfe653172ee53f774bc54e4b862d8
6871 F20101119_AACIWD stanton_d_Page_29thm.jpg
954e7054fea52456ad70cdbff0f3c99d
470a08d609a151c90d20f997cd69734607ae6add
22018 F20101119_AACIMJ stanton_d_Page_23.QC.jpg
c23337301df09b0bbb786333579631c3
69036f18f45538b296de27422f5a9f7e72005800
22619 F20101119_AACIHM stanton_d_Page_67.QC.jpg
fa7c927649c7dad5af5df810801ea083
b6efe4b60007f04ddcd07a0279e1ab0ad772f314
F20101119_AACIRG stanton_d_Page_28.tif
dc6e27c4738a83a47d200e344e22ba42
672d2cb461d66c363c6f4208ca91e82b4afc2ea1
24705 F20101119_AACIWE stanton_d_Page_30.QC.jpg
5fb0ad6ec2418d6dd3bd8b723cd4e511
aada98cd817ef6dfe0409990410cca562b27c24f
121387 F20101119_AACIMK stanton_d_Page_53.jp2
30b419d56dc070c8cc7123c2eba4a581
6b3e4eabdd0ccf052a985d61e66ad4e794f8c542
F20101119_AACIRH stanton_d_Page_31.tif
336c3bbd9ba3d74f78bbe8b3b99f27e0
bab36c4b3a8de744c973c201b5686e2d1ef21b2c
6449 F20101119_AACIWF stanton_d_Page_32thm.jpg
fae122868067ff856af34f524b46ebf3
37d8d4c5d576cca5c57f9a90a70196123267b3e0
3350 F20101119_AACIML stanton_d_Page_02.QC.jpg
45c2fb8e3e255685d306ae181454e53f
adbf12b3f0f33086916cd2420292cefde8d729b6
463 F20101119_AACIHN stanton_d_Page_51.txt
f358825bdda1c731ee9b4ba67a640946
3f5e850b35b74a8ce60fecdc63fca15d2dfeff7e
F20101119_AACIRI stanton_d_Page_33.tif
5a1a180b7341ebb6a368b66816e9d634
634316b7a59c7508a3145247c2551931a3898ed3
25459 F20101119_AACIWG stanton_d_Page_34.QC.jpg
7c2697723cc3ce25de2bc45dd362b47e
ff4b73d38be259e0bb54affef66d05f644f755df
6053 F20101119_AACIMM stanton_d_Page_54thm.jpg
6331bd91fee8f6a78a0baba1b20be537
564a9c44d90321f2c40004ed3b6de3de1583d466
48814 F20101119_AACIHO stanton_d_Page_61.pro
f48f01106621d6fdb546b17671d6b2fd
5683ec09158130cf7a0842f78cb21637e9d55825
F20101119_AACIRJ stanton_d_Page_34.tif
49f23edafe845a99dc09de6aa633543f
9f26e3b90830846ca3854c3f2ae1874193241509
6670 F20101119_AACIWH stanton_d_Page_34thm.jpg
aebf8f583249676b0929c761276bb2db
8903c5184c710a7064aa5899425f3edee563e655
124414 F20101119_AACIMN stanton_d_Page_49.jp2
b9a75601b4aed43751584cf5358b1df8
045f213bd552b7de0d1a612a50f5345c83d427b0
F20101119_AACIHP stanton_d_Page_06.tif
9c8367f0d843f7d55df88ad2e0f88162
0ab72f85e10c13147db920b22b3eb4a6e57a1d2b
F20101119_AACIRK stanton_d_Page_38.tif
fb0bffe2c457946c3a02e0fb5170615f
136136ccc2a25e080631a16d38d245d224804b61
6618 F20101119_AACIWI stanton_d_Page_35thm.jpg
3ca0a788a8d5503e2c07d9cfcec8883c
60da2d7636f354f40aaaa17396414f08a1d3f9bb
47369 F20101119_AACIMO stanton_d_Page_47.pro
fdd52e4635e9733a7141bdb70a0af154
fef63d92681ae488226affcc02358014877dc8e8
F20101119_AACIHQ stanton_d_Page_29.tif
e6c4b65d0c427a663303d1bf0a2b56b9
b3784255b5c39090b43494df25a7cd879b12bcfe
F20101119_AACIRL stanton_d_Page_42.tif
00f8d4dc6c984e457d16670529a1e50c
326cb000955a8a21fb6a2b0eda0a4ea10720820c
22373 F20101119_AACIWJ stanton_d_Page_36.QC.jpg
9d006308d6f364005b2794d00f0e57d0
442812b0928daac41b22761680f9b0bb2944492c
22115 F20101119_AACIMP stanton_d_Page_40.QC.jpg
624e3794cfdd4d2420c9e58cc149a873
780343ff3b4611c91b8c74e83b210354c99dcd05
101852 F20101119_AACIHR stanton_d_Page_47.jp2
f39af419aaeb10d0d9dba2f5d27685c0
e090c947f260451e6057613048cd02ea242f8827
F20101119_AACIRM stanton_d_Page_45.tif
d7427a92aeec8f95aea6de92e4ee3921
6a70e41f279014c7d1a0f38a078704623e34d1dc
6350 F20101119_AACIWK stanton_d_Page_37thm.jpg
347d07beea5995bf176b7b79f0af5d79
b56386530cf462a06038f5c03e4c66415aaa7f5c
266 F20101119_AACIMQ stanton_d_Page_18.txt
f16821f51baed11c1dba810135338579
21d53119e530924fe52752156544c160cbd254a1
21446 F20101119_AACIHS stanton_d_Page_13.QC.jpg
3230a899c30b8e819577f06ba7968959
1042c0c255854975d9d262cd09c2537dbb559ed0
F20101119_AACIRN stanton_d_Page_48.tif
6f9e838fef4a40716f7a441bd4f1afba
7f6c2e2da9da7bc37ae2a6d4fe84c994bae6e205
3278 F20101119_AACIWL stanton_d_Page_38thm.jpg
231b594145c7ede7bcc3f5201076a91e
403b9662f334ffdba1ad6346b22cae376a047d54
22125 F20101119_AACIMR stanton_d_Page_12.QC.jpg
6e5326dff902f50bddf6cc8fc9ec0559
9f6cb7d708d33c15549816e77e74cc3442ed4697
F20101119_AACIHT stanton_d_Page_67.tif
6274a28c278227f6f928775f91601ba9
02f0bcfcb585d68bdb5dd3dcd98b2d86a8939bc9
F20101119_AACIRO stanton_d_Page_50.tif
3bc7852e2d2016f5779f914467614c47
ac31ca584702dda7b7956f3660ee7a436297b93b
F20101119_AACIWM stanton_d_Page_42.QC.jpg
741e6cdc5c67b45129e9479f3ff2673d
146458121be5b19dc583695fa80ba7238dfe07e4
23291 F20101119_AACIHU stanton_d_Page_37.QC.jpg
e1983ef110a1697679fc89006aa4f91d
f6aca9749869e022f4c56aee7f8c563680b1d71f
F20101119_AACIRP stanton_d_Page_52.tif
1e42195ac1e66aa9f312d205a4bdaad7
2c50edf8f9221fb730fa4b270df3ddf2cfdc02ed
6299 F20101119_AACIWN stanton_d_Page_42thm.jpg
ad7570c03502e6f517ed9e9170e24b7d
bd9ced2dfb7fd3631c702099bd04e766ec725bf2
73948 F20101119_AACIHV stanton_d_Page_42.jpg
ff86dd3a3f13ed6318309e481b76121a
d1fb2495367e30abc5f8c22edc7c417277d28279
F20101119_AACIRQ stanton_d_Page_54.tif
84736e6130da3046b3a26e24d72d5b23
a47fd04742c952ba1694d6295e6f76d082a5466d
49970 F20101119_AACIMS stanton_d_Page_20.pro
8d8f9c20bcc88565df3bb430c159d128
5466a14cd9dcef1da9da1f99d9a6490cd0825d8d
25258 F20101119_AACIWO stanton_d_Page_43.QC.jpg
6169e724aa7b8d26eefe596a80091c74
6c11979bcd9c23b42f0e5cbf556d561250a842ef
F20101119_AACIHW stanton_d_Page_10.tif
d4765395caa0cbc9c2394703bfe049bd
97df7e691b7e88087e9018b0488f9d2cb3ef0afa
F20101119_AACIRR stanton_d_Page_57.tif
ccfd0ab28cf708fdad28387b1702d41c
c02d1493f5557949f121e4855f867ddc18e1301b
9854 F20101119_AACIMT stanton_d_Page_09.QC.jpg
3cc032614dffb91764c12a6faa86e2ba
6629549601b3007367711489a8a6b68315e97752
6548 F20101119_AACIWP stanton_d_Page_44thm.jpg
f0f8385398e8eaa946cdef4cbfe0dcf1
5c9611a119278d4210ce9fb7d4b097fd7e3455d6
1497 F20101119_AACIHX stanton_d_Page_06.txt
acb0b9fa22dc7b790303813eb40a63f0
a7b4012e79bb33c680d2f600e1eda099d3479edb
F20101119_AACIRS stanton_d_Page_61.tif
bd8c0565f1feb705b3e9d288dc109aed
27f1c8d003400e392a7510b3b54cd715948aaecf
6121 F20101119_AACIMU stanton_d_Page_40thm.jpg
945006a4d2bbbb0ae8a4106b96616b51
e41ba166d808739188503bbffc337184a3b31920
6673 F20101119_AACIWQ stanton_d_Page_45thm.jpg
19b963fdc7b12f4252258267305dc01a
004ca07271195b6021fb0a1cfc66fa389e637944
2831 F20101119_AACIHY stanton_d_Page_64thm.jpg
bc37563469af8078bfa2bf01cba53d3c
4dc1582e55e747b9bd26789b53af446849d56a0e
F20101119_AACIRT stanton_d_Page_62.tif
b3552f80d394b3a33d88f73f8ca7909b
a95538277bf1ffeec9aab8f3335eaf60c2bccaec
2253 F20101119_AACIMV stanton_d_Page_45.txt
d2ffef0d72fc4fe8997d63f6da14e4c7
10dad8799ea05931a55b72dbfd578b72d3fa57e5
20456 F20101119_AACIWR stanton_d_Page_46.QC.jpg
710a604627cd126e2edfd03e0954798d
3c7bacbcc47dc111f08951107b3a25b63ce9d895
2479 F20101119_AACIHZ stanton_d_Page_49.txt
e152ba0787430f17c0db88d50c652bc0
d4b8c5b6267326e52529010329e068d7340ca1cc
F20101119_AACIRU stanton_d_Page_63.tif
9c9eeb531b202d7830de2e7a802cead0
3ed7a32bdfd78785b390fa7079652d1db4efb295
1994 F20101119_AACIMW stanton_d_Page_46.txt
55db41d8b8f8b5f2f2c9576b18086730
6e3d558544281c29e14d8936b51e473a070a841d
21455 F20101119_AACIWS stanton_d_Page_47.QC.jpg
b2659146de21e6633f6b584c819a4a38
d9b7368d6cf42b51ac6793234362f298ecf34550
F20101119_AACIRV stanton_d_Page_64.tif
4b15fb7d1a59291376fc5bc6649ea01f
4a4666e5c88c4afa1711527dfcd6b1abd9a78672
9636 F20101119_AACIMX stanton_d_Page_59.pro
4b0f99584307100ae0d230a9f07f0617
7f16d8bed3c0d1bef149d248c421d86c87356698
6089 F20101119_AACIWT stanton_d_Page_47thm.jpg
e0361c6a50237925c2a3242c2f180870
a29973da5b89ae48032124ad127d5536ed369690
F20101119_AACIRW stanton_d_Page_66.tif
3e37b3f674de8e775385ceb325e8636e
edaa0ae3d3590924ff7e5a83cc870e0de5ba8487
1869 F20101119_AACIKA stanton_d_Page_15.txt
847318b6ebda946ee1e31f85d00b8cd8
cd104ce5716dfbf7a8c87984c24ada0d96eea5c6
1650 F20101119_AACIMY stanton_d_Page_65.txt
975efcb4fc805c96b5992eaa3a1b33b6
6f3798eff1b558e8f2e10377699fedb41a2c4037
22754 F20101119_AACIWU stanton_d_Page_50.QC.jpg
67fefaed42e00750e40aac316d0e4768
a9525b478d7ba7140e5e907095421c712d66e565
70776 F20101119_AACIFE stanton_d_Page_17.jpg
dd464a9f09d23fb383f5c8faaaa5e1cb
d713ada1a27deba2d0f5b47e125141454a8884c7
F20101119_AACIKB stanton_d_Page_47.tif
00643bf31d0a6b432d31690a28b3c249
83a547664956f7ae55ef2b70f29ef0056cbd9844
F20101119_AACIMZ stanton_d_Page_49.tif
e0a77c51eb70ee63a95285abd66ef91e
5143a358e54d0d8f29c391281a5d7f5ffb1a981c
6169 F20101119_AACIWV stanton_d_Page_50thm.jpg
58fbd1ac447aaebb2086636050c74f93
54c36f5a0e723e816d8d995a2ce53ec1663e1b2b
F20101119_AACIRX stanton_d_Page_68.tif
fd926e606f56cc0ddbc2a7e6c5d791f7
e8cb33e6165404787f907a845022675ae3079ffc
69425 F20101119_AACIKC stanton_d_Page_15.jpg
766500ec15399143d0590ce7f274deda
a00b04c7e16840af6ef56570e1e6fcd49de424d2
82341 F20101119_AACIFF stanton_d_Page_49.jpg
0089b48ce270395b3a1c7804916c46c1
e881aa58fbcc42873705230bd7e610325ae8bb6d
2088 F20101119_AACIWW stanton_d_Page_51thm.jpg
d8f3f0e0efc84b795a7a988318deaf1f
9618230ed7ad6c7c4a93f58195800cb7c0e783ee
63958 F20101119_AACIPA stanton_d_Page_60.jpg
5ff4820a3e8b8070c5d0617af1b02ff7
da97e5b011308542071b8775d6e5276427873f38
8265 F20101119_AACIRY stanton_d_Page_01.pro
4eed6f560659de1f24a802399b2b3781
8746e0c45847c055a00b61e0f5ec3e1cde97e8a0
F20101119_AACIKD stanton_d_Page_32.tif
6b79b378705474062759e459dfdd6067
9674f6b98e4f2ae71d619b31f23d97d24645266d
28215 F20101119_AACIFG stanton_d_Page_68.jpg
3650f2db445306d6115cb1fc7e148467
58370615b9c073c0e2e24c60293640edd38156c5
20535 F20101119_AACIWX stanton_d_Page_52.QC.jpg
b815f16e7a91e957acd2322b87da3356
2ea894ebcbf1fa89f3c852a9882170511bb21e49
68782 F20101119_AACIPB stanton_d_Page_61.jpg
818452380b0c08699146a1f2a0ead810
fb720df6319968a75fbbd080d7bf89b0482902b4
1456 F20101119_AACIRZ stanton_d_Page_03.pro
75109625c219f0109081654c6ba2cc32
eb52650adeef01fe466fb80fbc15d2ae6ec9aabd
111430 F20101119_AACIKE stanton_d_Page_37.jp2
61b4155410e7b3b6df25783ebc30dfca
b9357d5c85fd891c63427e4664a223c62377154d
6528 F20101119_AACIFH stanton_d_Page_24thm.jpg
8152307f294671850af847eae4392e13
65b4f03b3490570aa73d418e02a482b42d42455d
6840 F20101119_AACIWY stanton_d_Page_53thm.jpg
d8a1f5ab4705ea685eb716098553840b
c6b71ca568b22d486563e00f50c0c7495a8753d5
67526 F20101119_AACIPC stanton_d_Page_63.jpg
b4a1561b8dce045fb593d929b4326445
4fb6e17a7de994ee364a873e324fb1317102a82c
117 F20101119_AACIKF stanton_d_Page_02.txt
2511f3ddb5439960f4b47f5a7b06201a
25f07c828c628c98549ef9ffafa5d19b7bf9869d
6472 F20101119_AACIFI stanton_d_Page_43thm.jpg
fb6cdbe549b2d042699bd038b3c24565
4a1a32266a73dcf88e2d9057281d2d753a74e2cf
20981 F20101119_AACIWZ stanton_d_Page_54.QC.jpg
6022d0b9002cce63ab9ffedb63e12b91
281f49d0591190cf6697a7966e6fa6ea5d7dbcd7
68108 F20101119_AACIPD stanton_d_Page_65.jpg
8c25b5ec059947db3306f0876be9a907
6d5e994868a0be21e40e154deff6664497114853
63493 F20101119_AACIKG stanton_d_Page_29.pro
cad4da4e565ba42e54535eb303d668c1
7b4a718226b64a7ea42d3ae691549c10f8f55226
1816 F20101119_AACIUA stanton_d_Page_26.txt
b801c9cfb4e97e035c8f0fba002c4f1c
e17b2fa6be8c71f6f818959611f4b61d55d23a3e
72014 F20101119_AACIFJ stanton_d_Page_62.jpg
a32188ae8601d13934165f42dc9e94de
fce72ba39abc37754d3a422598f807025d01dc46
79107 F20101119_AACIPE stanton_d_Page_66.jpg
b25ce481d44608d7306aadfff5576fb4
371ababb9b1f6bd11d44c4682efd8f751106010f
21533 F20101119_AACIKH stanton_d_Page_39.QC.jpg
ed22ded3e005d7427a3732ac19d8e878
12636b126059ebbdc81df65c61b89478c316c70e
2880 F20101119_AACIUB stanton_d_Page_28.txt
2daa401da6f5ae1f6628f537b70348c7
4ea05e583f34523e7580925a7b39b3ac3c849787
2575 F20101119_AACIFK stanton_d_Page_35.txt
51874d6fd469790b7809b2f7d480d943
4595fb8319bc49f845256bc9cf6bf17513fa4658
78643 F20101119_AACIPF stanton_d_Page_67.jpg
9b51f6f73309404eb7ea64d47e1b3240
d7b77045100b797f77092f7d5f052cf60c71e695
22223 F20101119_AACIKI stanton_d_Page_21.QC.jpg
4475b72854c6437ae45e1f7f4f9ace2c
8a1588f820901cd9b961a31f80ebb91243f15623
2394 F20101119_AACIUC stanton_d_Page_30.txt
56dc0d1fb01427593a1c8c26b46683d8
871ef4be56f8494beb9c8084617f1d92da561efb
6224 F20101119_AACIPG stanton_d_Page_03.jp2
2497e53b12d7560087aab7584bfef97a
812c5e36ce36253d891c9f80661718032d53c373
107228 F20101119_AACIKJ stanton_d_Page_17.jp2
a975a2fb3ed8ee8514f885334abad78a
a28e61f263cd5c47353d1bbba1a8ef364118e488
2037 F20101119_AACIUD stanton_d_Page_31.txt
f22be661e58277c9450f707a951daf6f
a51836cca8a0993a3e81ba5aca023051faa4491b
F20101119_AACIFL stanton_d_Page_59.tif
979fe4ebff78db22721ee9b46e73aa0a
c397164b2b06368f7daf8e5bf94fc27b55a55568
37681 F20101119_AACIPH stanton_d_Page_04.jp2
2a3fbe6819f74179e05d4c7bac0bac7a
16d071f14f272c40e7cef90e1203f0fdc4370017
653 F20101119_AACIKK stanton_d_Page_64.txt
337b45eb6163ea8eff70f6a41992e638
48a98dda36b214958819d7b33426351084fd23c9
2949 F20101119_AACIUE stanton_d_Page_33.txt
e3df8ff585c24f24367d31c03585040e
6a9e22bdf947219c408697309bcab897e5787516
F20101119_AACIFM stanton_d_Page_58.tif
a9e608a19a4f5634653b789d9c745483
6e5c177adc220a568c83ba7da22cc27a497e6ecc
70164 F20101119_AACIPI stanton_d_Page_06.jp2
e8fb6b046e71c3eff698115cba85329c
d567fc9ee1c7f3f3c1adf2066c698a05836616e9
889945 F20101119_AACIKL stanton_d_Page_05.jp2
3f86b8ca3c69c34d3f6835c88aa6e8b7
1f8b4bf118d6dddd599c247b2f865c1466a6317f
768 F20101119_AACIUF stanton_d_Page_38.txt
57daffe1c67cfbcca9a9086ca71c53ed
708f987544c383c8bd9cb779e521e9f4fc1634cb
1858 F20101119_AACIFN stanton_d_Page_12.txt
815e349da0cc5bce5dfab5298b0f9276
9d9a42d70b5cb875a12d1ab93899fec83e97c13f
47005 F20101119_AACIPJ stanton_d_Page_07.jp2
2140afddca2715661a6f1d8cc8e74fb0
635dcc6a1df996a03bd6e4c85aa465579e776b16
56925 F20101119_AACIKM stanton_d_Page_53.pro
85bce056b6760a03a103eb5f7b24cb25
dfd22121c6a41d8639c7348d7f8d8c37a6823a51
2163 F20101119_AACIUG stanton_d_Page_40.txt
61daf461227cd5b85820f53a8fee2a01
f3452edab88eb037417dd749245f95be1acaea58
24544 F20101119_AACIFO stanton_d_Page_48.QC.jpg
27dcfe2cf290e781613eb5f73c0525fd
66a01860ffa1abd112e863426e6f9b0df756021b
101368 F20101119_AACIPK stanton_d_Page_08.jp2
c45051740a9954ce581a3acaba4d9db4
efb4c02e37670e1266d5e4f35b30975b82931bbc
23723 F20101119_AACIKN stanton_d_Page_22.QC.jpg
ae79cecbfb4d4800e66a339588318d03
4a7d2b296ea21ae9f19fdcaed88228df97067628
2156 F20101119_AACIUH stanton_d_Page_42.txt
9833faef4c2acfee6ce8b31008fc7a0d
04b67e8a08d4994fc610e396199e840de60dd2b5
7245 F20101119_AACIFP stanton_d_Page_01.QC.jpg
86dedd88f6743a7ea08487401fde7303
cbb1d07db2fa9f19e3c4d578575d77e335a7d12e
43728 F20101119_AACIPL stanton_d_Page_09.jp2
a01a16748d3a2611c6d4c0d003f50817
9b2378f0a1cce0564a2f595ace29111e539e1de2
3227 F20101119_AACIKO stanton_d_Page_03.QC.jpg
7d56c457acfc9fcc31c66549770f72c4
eb999576ff1e8e42167cfb76283d79b58171bb60
2608 F20101119_AACIUI stanton_d_Page_44.txt
350d4d914ad3aaa0133198bfca57124c
8aaa37e45125bc10292d63445011982691ecf968
86859 F20101119_AACIFQ stanton_d_Page_35.jpg
1226d1e7489ca426c3d3cd4266823862
11a0a463d77076768a8280787643f5965a5c5559
95150 F20101119_AACIPM stanton_d_Page_10.jp2
002ca61f1b1794cc856841eeb907156b
e4c08b775cead6f4320f55cb2ea14c85de59af29
F20101119_AACIKP stanton_d_Page_40.tif
3b57ec38ec696c4e966ef490166590fa
79f1240dbd57bc800a7ddc0d2af08e40c181b2a0
1958 F20101119_AACIUJ stanton_d_Page_47.txt
5b8cea6863f4803feed0490604157181
15f4c32e61188641eb1faea41e07d2fe7d3d6544
62346 F20101119_AACIFR stanton_d_Page_34.pro
f361763436f21bd63175536ee770048d
d07f5d4bb74377a2710d61213a78a328a7ca3837
99247 F20101119_AACIPN stanton_d_Page_13.jp2
71c3fc12fccf3e88ba5a96dc2f17257f
fc83f632a75a06caa4134ca44dcd35a71137ee08
2190 F20101119_AACIUK stanton_d_Page_50.txt
3cb66b0a1b56ae5103955126a343a2f9
1e6bebd33443f976be981f4ec102caddf0f8206a
F20101119_AACIFS stanton_d_Page_30.tif
53ef81a4e26f516e2ddeefd88ea9419d
14547d07a87ba3943317fae71c35f7c227513fc9
58902 F20101119_AACIKQ stanton_d_Page_58.pro
246b3c31000c3d5f8ef0126fee1e43a5
0fedbd8558e9290df7ea8321d354cae5c8870052
F20101119_AACIUL stanton_d_Page_52.txt
626dcdb3a2b40b875c86a0fb943099cf
51036ece7a75f05025679b42530b89302c9e1644
F20101119_AACIFT stanton_d_Page_41.tif
b8347fdb3166989fda196913c6c06147
5b1bb0bc48541dceb00e75afb6b6dc2f64c42c37
15016 F20101119_AACIPO stanton_d_Page_18.jp2
bf4db42b8e14556ad8f69d4166568474
cdb5fa0f19c69a4481b05c3b4cd8de3d438a3b74
48472 F20101119_AACIKR stanton_d_Page_46.pro
5e316c512227ee5997d4bb9ff205a72d
59469eb6919566e2bf7d3af75cf29dfdc1451e47
1783 F20101119_AACIUM stanton_d_Page_54.txt
1b3d70ee5e033e328ea7f2d8330a806c
ad9da1dca2f9f67d10dba649766129102c1c4124
F20101119_AACIFU stanton_d_Page_35.tif
5e535bd341d3a02ee25505558a4185aa
e2799dc25adfa2b3ccccc9421c0e5ea2ddf71889
105123 F20101119_AACIPP stanton_d_Page_21.jp2
6bc86bf83943f982ed8f922a360ecea2
0213581d48ad3c1472e8f711f5816722819aa002
F20101119_AACIKS stanton_d_Page_60.tif
0da1ba51bb16b074f95122294f5080e1
7ecd44b1a30d7a7e1143a971f9cfc6c3fae3cf4e
2521 F20101119_AACIUN stanton_d_Page_55.txt
f55b7c63e312fa373f491505b0c06188
0dd0bf0bff712a40a36620d9057bf87d7d9cd885
F20101119_AACIFV stanton_d_Page_66thm.jpg
8c0943c033fda2036d9f548b56952f35
dc9bbbb678f5e49e3d4197faabef92feb7cbea52
110303 F20101119_AACIPQ stanton_d_Page_22.jp2
432bbc6ddad11ebdff5a25cbdab5a5af
f2ecfc42b7c783632d011ddb7c9670e069c4f155
5800 F20101119_AACIKT stanton_d_Page_59.QC.jpg
48bdd1f79c8e98739cda7fa09fcae743
c3a929efc007baf89f8e075f7ad643fb3ad08ae2
2656 F20101119_AACIUO stanton_d_Page_57.txt
7168221ade13bfeb7291bb68a063a349
3c5f1c7758ba97e34590bf970e182afbf44c34bc
F20101119_AACIFW stanton_d_Page_55.tif
d4452b174f340413b1a419ab57749b40
dc835859eefab6484f6b7467c909039f7980fd4a
107222 F20101119_AACIPR stanton_d_Page_24.jp2
922e14f0d874fd1ce8f75c0c15825031
50d8513eae037b10e9764634ce799daa47d92087
F20101119_AACIKU stanton_d_Page_25.tif
f27fa1b49b677965091e0d5f3999afd1
b238171e247e369fe7c7da413860115bdc9b0a26
1782 F20101119_AACIUP stanton_d_Page_60.txt
53ad5062fbcab6432a4b3667db8ea075
131d88dc451a8ed484123f007f40b181d905e6b0
F20101119_AACIFX stanton_d_Page_65.tif
1a7d195980d08caa5163760ea70afba2
f50c3c56064b9b4562d1fad5f3aa139e37cee730
25254 F20101119_AACIPS stanton_d_Page_25.jp2
285e929184e6b654c37df694d1e480de
e7435d5f87581b86ad002d98fda81135fd8c090f
1991 F20101119_AACIUQ stanton_d_Page_62.txt
01c02a41983819900894b8259e2845c4
83232af39334c34bf7d4f66a0bca2ea3b78a66c7
1895 F20101119_AACIKV stanton_d_Page_63.txt
55b71ec7bf54c8daa76ba3884c64deeb
972004c96e5376c290e43566a71e808329552ad2
675 F20101119_AACIFY stanton_d_Page_04.txt
9d5163da0b18a5f0e070857249a588e2
3338468f3cb41f5d176cf0a13f18eba3d22986ea
96208 F20101119_AACIPT stanton_d_Page_26.jp2
751e87cdbc3a07ac4fb876da49b90083
e916acabd61c5879ccc7082fa059d80b2b84a8e0
1885 F20101119_AACIUR stanton_d_Page_66.txt
49304f33186c949c390ab9f6bc9a810e
2756236e4f9f6e848e53ae356998e6997f8c6428
F20101119_AACIKW stanton_d_Page_36.tif
c44d222977719134585f975bcf6b869f
657709ec2a88d381b1de6008a99d1b8e9b0aad0d
100880 F20101119_AACIFZ stanton_d_Page_12.jp2
b7be8bb724434b7af75eb11196447836
ca494ccbbacadfd87f9dbea206cfc7807da648a9
142949 F20101119_AACIPU stanton_d_Page_28.jp2
27e79496434af1a5cb9955ae67bef60d
755dd37c7ffa9604c6f6b34520c65a90adb7c95a
640 F20101119_AACIUS stanton_d_Page_68.txt
b00fc2ad5e526e7dc72709d7ec3b1427
bb1079b1ee0156895e45b79e81645c52cf40e363
F20101119_AACIKX stanton_d_Page_18.tif
f1a6bf955c6de0a7f54abe3ea55ca46b
e37197fffc842444541df6cbadf0e8306fd4b9b8
150803 F20101119_AACIUT stanton_d.pdf
c4739216e2e30e5bbee3baa3faf2c582
f1de7ba731bb39bec498fa7a009d8d9cbbd46fd7
124359 F20101119_AACIIA stanton_d_Page_30.jp2
f727e1d4da3a1ba2fc1098cc93c3ec6f
5fa5a1170510842923efcdcd24ed9b306364b92b
24267 F20101119_AACIKY stanton_d_Page_45.QC.jpg
e75b49b1f27ba5dd6cd477c378c2bac1
d9f35b2094f5c0f5c3452910ebadcb1a9254e0b1
128938 F20101119_AACIPV stanton_d_Page_29.jp2
e9a23ac31a65aa317ff30d1fa7fa248f
4347021f7bdbe2dd95aa9d6a6728e54c868ad63b
2398 F20101119_AACIUU stanton_d_Page_01thm.jpg
ca7916586d831b0cebdc19bb3d5ec9f3
a1732b0745ff970e5b031586e970c9d625ab2f89
115128 F20101119_AACIKZ stanton_d_Page_45.jp2
891dfd766a4931c7051aed21df2ecf3a
594791bf42084fe4ee2673806024c47ea1aa2b82
108071 F20101119_AACIPW stanton_d_Page_31.jp2
adad3667c5fc1b1a44f4704a1f649ce2
e08b95834fe736e8cb897c1a23e96421f4ad16a5
2279 F20101119_AACIIB stanton_d_Page_56.txt
90d363db5166cf65727b088c926b3fbf
92801ac1942998c1d93b8f6e667b6798c601b4b3
1387 F20101119_AACIUV stanton_d_Page_02thm.jpg
27416c42fdf4921e8fcb68569ae96bdd
a8aa9814d00160845194997db7e242883a90f023
142748 F20101119_AACIPX stanton_d_Page_33.jp2
bf6fd08afb5e830b0de92765642ccf75
32ef40425608169d8c4fc5ccb9e81074c50bfd1c
22188 F20101119_AACIIC stanton_d_Page_31.QC.jpg
704e760b4c8c937fed5194b94faafb37
7a5bcc17655a042cbaa4294a84e88414cd04b6d9
9295 F20101119_AACIUW stanton_d_Page_04.QC.jpg
113e281312305202bf3969af0a677db7
8122fe1661a9cef2e6a9654a00008692b2b7440a
6437 F20101119_AACINA stanton_d_Page_21thm.jpg
15655b38119f106e66873a6bd5f37667
f0f849c012313345c2ea07ef9611ad3fd6b75e8d
128853 F20101119_AACIPY stanton_d_Page_34.jp2
88766662e3e0ddf8b3ebd2b8efd1065c
63c0af2cfc9ee57dded93c84f09f47cd98cdc87c
2444 F20101119_AACIID stanton_d_Page_27.txt
0b8bb7dc15e6714f5b841adeadcf3c4e
71ce6da54ce4ebc930af758da54f79260eba1459
2979 F20101119_AACIUX stanton_d_Page_04thm.jpg
60a6afbeeff15de5498feb1d47ed7d38
43a612bb37fb155e603798be653337e666e0ae10
6893 F20101119_AACINB stanton_d_Page_28thm.jpg
35f04717a88f3cfeac8fad69904aef6b
eab60e5ac442511df4ea2c5bea06233710c14392
129024 F20101119_AACIPZ stanton_d_Page_35.jp2
9eaeed2a0990ca6ef36c41ba79d08fa3
0df478ecd2d5def2927529dab7bb5ccb05fb6198
F20101119_AACIIE stanton_d_Page_46.tif
03ce5c4ca393ae09e1ac1dffb8301bb6
572374696c38db88bdd287e73aefd64b41644d07
2998 F20101119_AACIUY stanton_d_Page_05thm.jpg
0ef677678d22de0f56905d9304415769
5c79dddb928c35b5c51892e4d1e109d531bcd6d0
19126 F20101119_AACINC stanton_d_Page_38.pro
5589f6e63d51b45530b3d451eb462c08
2263d69f7f586e58b5df92ca42eae87c75756a2e
1252 F20101119_AACIIF stanton_d_Page_02.pro
3e1203dd0d61da10c4c845f58de5bc42
4af67e80fdc5b39064337829554ef649fee66fb8
4563 F20101119_AACIUZ stanton_d_Page_06thm.jpg
a059627b58232fddffbffa81e47eae82
6ddb13f01efb3f02914c986c06244485217b7f22
15408 F20101119_AACISA stanton_d_Page_04.pro
6a258ac7c09c1895ffb0731ae9cfd5db
5d3db976d6e4290c2b3975089a152d6e39a8dff0
66545 F20101119_AACIND stanton_d_Page_13.jpg
8c0ed18dbf874e6f693048f1963b6328
ba8d5d66eaa876039d7ce6d53a2b02953948aaed
6190 F20101119_AACIIG stanton_d_Page_31thm.jpg
226d059fd02d5d5e54adfc0c7771c88a
1c0eb78471690212f4dd87fc8e525706c799e53d
36614 F20101119_AACISB stanton_d_Page_05.pro
31e7cefb57cdbe8b08d8e6396f37bbd3
ad1919bac97d22aad093fe69c772ba7e34134bcf
2361 F20101119_AACINE stanton_d_Page_58.txt
73c58cbf884c7bb1f5853b8faa60c4fc
774011910e65385d49b61a86155bdeeebecc2985
84437 F20101119_AACIIH stanton_d_Page_34.jpg
344f981f530bc651487345b097cd7245
e57b1b7762c2c18d1ba6f996c439fad85420924a
31400 F20101119_AACISC stanton_d_Page_06.pro
73c2313031156740cae9de1dda5ba4e9
dfa8cc7ea5d913848ec0faaf3f0e1da287358569
59480 F20101119_AACINF stanton_d_Page_49.pro
6bd19f2ed9cc0f0b4010853eedeb34e6
6e73eb37fa6fc8e3a820dc13c08f3688df22b977
F20101119_AACIII stanton_d_Page_12.tif
16c0d32994415bb2c775f77d20d8765c
54ac46aca145d0159b13dd1cd85b46b75a98364b
25637 F20101119_AACIXA stanton_d_Page_55.QC.jpg
3cf838fdb4caf4d20bbccf652474750a
ccd3739a97f7f2bcf7b502db7f536d1051fd9b0f
47054 F20101119_AACISD stanton_d_Page_08.pro
d807294c4ff696d26732793c2c1c67d7
6f25cc64c38bfbc1533b042882304bcd4fc01768
6711 F20101119_AACING stanton_d_Page_41thm.jpg
236263d59d193421e969c2873a9ae540
8d516e07fbde9fdec43e2f3bead54cb6bfa967ac
22452 F20101119_AACIIJ stanton_d_Page_59.jp2
e64c949c5a723394b43eca9fc151ad1f
ed7d1d687594f6883390350683911d1305fc508c
24190 F20101119_AACIXB stanton_d_Page_56.QC.jpg
376dad7b70bd5cd16eab6b1aef00e25f
5825990cd82d17a30bf33e5c05156492f614c9a2
18996 F20101119_AACISE stanton_d_Page_09.pro
5c1bbd751a905d7e9f21299e617eb3a3
958f756e3ed827875dd08dab2e69c9c7e660898d
68267 F20101119_AACINH stanton_d_Page_23.jpg
d19a6b51c572dbaba38dacd4643e931d
6fe86de8b3ece26893974d1d2043022daf718c8e
36459 F20101119_AACIIK stanton_d_Page_64.jp2
3dd70c08cb9a0a99725ef0a10640ab44
62ccb0ecad8e689f2c88fa6f1d88ea487cb9b890
6838 F20101119_AACIXC stanton_d_Page_57thm.jpg
9d06ceae98d24485938285781cf725be
afb3bce328076ca19dc0cabfe5338c605b22dce4
43868 F20101119_AACISF stanton_d_Page_10.pro
a9f1b6bafc99f0696a7123913856353c
ddd8af00df706e72d918187ddb70ac858a05f32d
44862 F20101119_AACINI stanton_d_Page_54.pro
f9f6f2d8a37b78971cd806be78cbe0d6
52ccece3752ee045d83473a093d561d45656a779
64432 F20101119_AACIIL stanton_d_Page_52.jpg
23b7885bccdc3bcfee7439bc3c9c6f76
7ec6c96935227213f71454567712295c133cca9d
24805 F20101119_AACIXD stanton_d_Page_58.QC.jpg
39513b4a25bef453df0d0a2cf0d9af26
91034b9633d7fd566e5527232d95ba08ad38b6cc
52118 F20101119_AACISG stanton_d_Page_11.pro
21047603da9b34fe5382ba01036d6e08
260837a849daece7b99331b6257eb95d3deb77f9
118246 F20101119_AACINJ stanton_d_Page_56.jp2
2aca6cda7490f20f3b9f06bf9e24d164
74f852a111b8693ef8ab7b3b814a51d3a3390071
25148 F20101119_AACIIM stanton_d_Page_44.QC.jpg
f963d49d6ffa2d1fb220d06ab1620e2d
b14bf8751c6647e53b749e494197761aa76d7380
1945 F20101119_AACIXE stanton_d_Page_59thm.jpg
b3c0d4ac158e448ce71bd1b11c853d83
eca171f4c126e287f3d859835a18fb9581fb4a21
46836 F20101119_AACISH stanton_d_Page_12.pro
1c95d7f73b9f7a2701907e83fdd9a93c
1e6b2b1e19b5b7cad6ba1e3d4522c416e16939bf
104157 F20101119_AACINK UFE0012301_00001.xml
3f6815e31201a7a8159b50662c3450d9
daaa90c3684ee968caee02d962d3a0d5363c9c9e
6637 F20101119_AACIIN stanton_d_Page_56thm.jpg
b8de8f0634ca57160a488e084ce32c2f
df4b553f0319fa5e839e8f69bcb897e164a3307c
21287 F20101119_AACIXF stanton_d_Page_60.QC.jpg
948c98733b31d6acf46cd591c7e435fa
cfa9339b935f8ee1cdacc33529503c66ea2c053e
45227 F20101119_AACISI stanton_d_Page_13.pro
125374006a95da7d924438feb235a079
702fda15a2f512a72e2172f945153001d102aae5
5909 F20101119_AACIXG stanton_d_Page_60thm.jpg
5bd95a2743dd1a00e3aab34d1e3e2711
9322234907026b75169f9dff25ccf05108da91d4
55251 F20101119_AACISJ stanton_d_Page_14.pro
1eeb39a93f91602dd2fe8cc4e343c2ec
5cfd995ca94e5d65e09b19cb6d1fa2e25ff80611
20071 F20101119_AACIIO stanton_d_Page_19.QC.jpg
fdc0bb253f8c03a0a3ab4a53466e1552
40e71a89ce6f53c0e3d897b2a02c16779a6e375c
22298 F20101119_AACIXH stanton_d_Page_61.QC.jpg
ea3aa011d09c57d6557b27ee65715abf
06fa96547368b64cf28ad4201de254b2f442ea28
23243 F20101119_AACINN stanton_d_Page_01.jpg
9b0e7cdccefdf1b56530e4e7c9cce0ce
8d6685eaad95dad7cb8a8a24b9cef21d7580fcfb
49195 F20101119_AACIIP stanton_d_Page_39.pro
4a870b7029a04990416e3143f195f969
0375bc37ec3cdc71738eab764bfc820cfb7a27b3
49283 F20101119_AACISK stanton_d_Page_16.pro
1580b8c54a28e3891fc336cbb74667b8
b4c3bd0b3313bfc0ab429c296f6d8902a9d93c7a
6226 F20101119_AACIXI stanton_d_Page_61thm.jpg
f1f083bc2fbdee2b939a631720704973
16456bc9c9c5cefaf47b85a138661daf6dd89fb5
10459 F20101119_AACINO stanton_d_Page_02.jpg
3fe52c68e6511c9e5574775d6e06bcab
f76e76a83792ec3d7caecd302f64750b049de728
2050 F20101119_AACIIQ stanton_d_Page_39.txt
ec8a5c2e0d412df691e2c455517fb5ad
74aa32785051c85be49ba04460dff07969c969b7
49145 F20101119_AACISL stanton_d_Page_17.pro
35153d13ffaa07da5a7afca28e4743fc
e252c4f55d00816161af8fdcdc4194e4eab3a48b
6420 F20101119_AACIXJ stanton_d_Page_62thm.jpg
d6c54f9f854349906f2d065e23f6b44f
99bd9070ae659ec644eb00674e080df0ea790681
10676 F20101119_AACINP stanton_d_Page_03.jpg
005575b164ccdcb511813909823acf26
813c5a6991075c9ba56d1c91464938bdfcb5928c
85089 F20101119_AACIIR stanton_d_Page_43.jpg
0e16d73482efdb8e3bb40e77968d140e
74d0a187347fd2ce55c8917b3fa03a3f1b628f7f
F20101119_AACISM stanton_d_Page_18.pro
436a9db0f6e1d75ca8f01ffca63ea228
d276b38e1bb562cd74091651d292d28214b82867



PAGE 1

THE MIAMI HERALD AND THE MILLER EFFECT: LITERARY JOURNALISM IN THE 1980S By DAVID DUWE STANTON A THESIS PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLOR IDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS IN MASS COMMUNICATION UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA 2005

PAGE 2

Copyright 2005 by David Duwe Stanton

PAGE 3

This document is dedicated to my wife, Autumn

PAGE 4

iv ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like that thank my supervis ory committee for their guidance and encouragement during the researching and writin g of this thesis. Their enthusiasm kept me moving when all I found were roadblocks. Special thanks go to Carl Hiaasen, Pete Weitzel and David Lawrence, Jr. for speaking with me and giving their perspectives on The Miami Herald Without them, writing this thesis would not have been possible. Lastly, I want to thank my wife Autumn and my soon-to-be-born daughter for their understanding and support of my time sp ent as a professional student.

PAGE 5

v TABLE OF CONTENTS page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.................................................................................................iv ABSTRACT....................................................................................................................... vi CHAPTERS 1 INTRODUCTION........................................................................................................1 2 LITERATURE REVIEW.............................................................................................3 3 RESEARCH PARADIGM AND METHODOLOGY................................................12 4 CARL HIAASEN.......................................................................................................19 5 EDNA BUCHANAN..................................................................................................32 6 GENE MILLER AND NEWSROOM CULTURE.....................................................40 7 AFTER THE MERGER.............................................................................................45 8 CONCLUSIONS.........................................................................................................53 LIST OF REFERENCES...................................................................................................58 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.............................................................................................61

PAGE 6

vi Abstract of Thesis Presen ted to the Graduate School of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Ar ts in Mass Communication THE MIAMI HERALD AND THE MILLER EFFECT: LITERARY JOURNALISM IN THE 1980S By David Duwe Stanton December 2005 Chairman: William McKeen Major Department: Journalism and Communications The Miami Herald and the Miller Eff ect: Literary Journalism in the 1980s examines the factors that led to the Herald ’s fast rise to status as one of the finest newspapers in the country. Many journalists and academics have examined literary journalism, particularly the New Journalism of New York in the 1960s and 70s. Proponents of the New Journalism used literary elements to create a different voice for journalism a nd incorporate grit and context lacking from traditional, inverted-pyramid-style writing. Gene Miller won the first two Pulitz er Prizes in the history of the Herald in 1967 and 1976, and his stature at the paper shielded him from low-level ed itors criticizing the journalistic style he used. As an editor and mentor, Miller fostered creativity to tell different stories in compelling ways.

PAGE 7

vii This thesis also looks at Edna Buchanan, Miller’s main protg, and Carl Hiaasen, one of the most famous journalists to emerge from the Herald during this time. Buchanan and Hiaasen later transitioned from journali sts to novelists, though Hi aasen continues to write columns for the Herald The Herald may not be the only paper to employ literary techniques in daily newspaper writing, but the newsroom and or ganizational culture helped the paper go from one Pulitzer in the 60s and one in the 70s to eight in the 80s. This thesis focuses on The Miami Herald in the 1980s as a time and place where a daily newspaper gained prestige and industry recognition through usi ng literary journalism techniques which had previously been confined to magazine journalism.

PAGE 8

1 CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION If you look at the newsrooms of the Washington Post and The New York Times they are filled with former Herald reporters and photographers and editors. There are 90-some-odd Miami Herald newsroom people in the newsroom of the Washington Post today. There are dozens, and I d on’t know what the number is, at the Times So, the Herald has always been a place that attracted great talent. Miami . it’s an exciting place to be. (Hirsch, interview, 2004) During the 1980s, The Miami Herald gained prestige through a talented staff that employed literary elements in daily newspa per writing. This thesis takes a qualitative look at the factors that led to the rise of the Herald and why literary journalism, usually relegated to magazine writing, was both accep ted and encouraged as a means of telling compelling stories. By the end of this wor k, I hope to answer two research questions: What factors at The Miami Herald during the 1980s led to the paper’s rise in terms of industry prestige? Second, why were these factors unique to Miami during this time? Carl Hiaasen began at the Herald as a general assignment reporter and quickly was promoted to the investigations team. Under the tutelage of encouraging and established editors, Hiaasen combined excellent interviewing, research and writing skills with literary elements to inform readers of corruption w ithin local government and shady deals that often saw the environment of South Florid a on the losing end. Edna Buchanan worked the police beat at the Herald from day one until she left to write mystery novels full time. Working with her mentor Gene Miller, who w on two of the first three Pulitzers in the history of the Herald Buchanan used varied sentence structure, witty writing and

PAGE 9

2 included tiny but colorful details to give proper sendoffs to murder victims for almost 20 years. This thesis examines the influences, st aff and organizational culture that saw The Miami Herald reach arguably its peak standing in terms of industry recognition during the 1980s. Using qualitative methods including interviews and textual analysis, I hope to create a grounded theory as to the factor s that attributed to the rise of the Herald and events that changed the newsroom dynamic. While the findings are not intended to serve as a generalizable list of ingr edients to create a newsroom that fosters creativity and inspires quality journalism, I hope it will explain the situation of the Herald in particular.

PAGE 10

3 CHAPTER 2 LITERATURE REVIEW American journalism, though seeking objectiv ity, has not always strived to be a vessel of neutrality. Samuel Langhorne Clemen s, better known by his penname of Mark Twain, battled against dry, nothing-but-the-fact s journalism. Twain and the crew of the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise in Nevada practiced what scholars have often called “frontier journalism,” a wobbly balance be tween “fictionalizing f acts and factualizing fiction” (Purdy, 1999, p.54). Twain worked from a factual framework and used exaggeration, satire and other literary devices. Distancing himself from mainstream jour nalism of the time, Twain often was the target of contempt and ridicule from othe r journalists and newspapers. Twain did not settle to stick just to the facts but incl uded vivid description to provide context and impact. Although Twain used simple words, he still favored lengthy description. Interestingly, Twain chose common-language vocabulary instead of heavy words that marked the writer as more inte lligent or above the reader. Twain’s inclusion of various literary devices into journalism caused his crit ics to question his work as exaggerated or even fabricated. The vanguard of the New J ournalism would later be face with the same critique (Purdy, 1999, p. 53). The influence of Twain and the writers of the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise were praised by some and dismissed by others. The partial credibility Twain helped gain for literary devices and styles in journalis m were abused by William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer near the turn of the tw entieth century. Although Hearst and Pulitzer

PAGE 11

4 are respected names today, their incessant ba ttle for newspaper dominance saw American journalism become the casualty. Historians re fer to the period as “Yellow Journalism,” with the enormous egos of Hearst and Pulitz er locked in an escalating battle of hypersensationalizing news at the expense of objec tivity and fact. Hearst is often blamed for starting the Spanish-American War after printing photogra phs detailing how Spanish saboteurs could have attached and detonate d an underwater mine to sink the U.S.S. Maine in the Havana, Cuba harbor (Buschini, 2000). According to Anthony Smith, the media we re questioned after World War I for its break with traditional journalism techni ques. The press adop ted a more objective philosophy focused on consensus that was “very different from the emphasis on facts that had helped the press through the period of its growth earlier in the century” (Smith, 1980, p. 61). The press “fostered the collection of information on th e basis of a special diction, which restricted the definition of a statement to that which could be assented to by all (Smith, 1980, p. 61). Essentially, all nuance a nd color was stripped from news reporting, leaving only the most basic facts and verifi able statements that could be observed by everyone. Smith calls this the reality that re mained “after the combined skepticism of the age were stripped away from the reporter’ s vision of the world” (Smith, 1999, p. 61). This adherence to objectivity and veri fiability remained the cornerstones of journalism until the 1960s. Unrelated to media and mass communication, many researchers in the social sciences (psychol ogy, sociology, social psyc hology, etc.) had an epistemological shift during this time. Positivis ts view the world as having a reality and looking to research findings as a means to determine the one truth. During this time period, many social science researchers began adopting a relativist instead of a positivist

PAGE 12

5 epistemology, or perception of the nature of reality. Relativists view the world as having multiple realities where what is “real” differs depending on the experiences of the individual. A large amount of scholarship already ha s looked at the causes and techniques of the New Journalism. Though it is impossible to draw exact lines as to a specific time/place/event creating th e term, Gay Talese, Tom Wo lfe and Hunter Thompson commonly are considered stewards of the Ne w Journalism in the 1960s and 70s. All three had different approaches and philosophies, but all three combined to bring the term to prominence as an implementation of journalistic nonfiction (Weber, 1980). New Journalists differed in mindset by going beyond just reporting the facts in traditional, dry, inverted-pyramid style and structure. Though some critics say the New Journalism crossed the lines of objectivity held as the cornerstone of journalism, proponents chose to explore American culture politics and society in new ways, often injecting themselves in the scenery. Lester Markel described th e New Journalists as “deep-see reporters” who immersed themselves to get to the bottom of issues, topics and events while still paying attention to the surface perceptions (Flippen, 1974, pp. 10-11, 160, 172). Essentially, proponents of th e New Journalism saw themselves as culture critics, responsible for uncovering the colo r and dirt of a situation to bring the true meaning and importance forth. They were not news repor ters that only gave facts and direct quotations. They also were not editorialists that relied on opinions and feelings. They considered inclusion of observation and narr ative description esse ntial to painting an accurate account of an event, topic or issue.

PAGE 13

6 The American political and cultural lands cape of the 1960s gave journalists an abundance of fodder for experimentation. The space race heated up with the USSR putting the first man in space in 1961, with Al an Shepard following a month later for the United States. And the failed Bay of Pigs insurrection to overthrow the Castro government in Cuba increased tension with the USSR. In October of 1962, the USSR installed offensive missiles in Cuba aimed at the United States. President Kennedy set a barricade preventing Soviet ships from enteri ng the Caribbean. Nuclear war was avoided as the USSR ordered the ships to turn away from Cuba. The Cuban Missile Crisis marked a significant change in the United States’ pe rception of the Cold War and the place of America in the arena of international affairs. Conflict in Vietnam was in its infant stage at the beginning of the 1960s. The Cuban Missile Crisis was followed by the rise of Mao Zedong’s attempted Cultural Revolution. The United States steadily increased its presen ce in Vietnam after 1965 to stem communism. The decade saw the ma rch of the Civil Rights movement, accompanied by protests, lynchings and race riots. President Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcom X were assassinated. Vietnam continued to dominate the American mindset throughout the early 1970s, accentuat ed by the shooting of four student protestors at Kent State University on May 4, 1970. War protests, the hippie movement and the rise of other counter-culture youth identities provided all the ri ght ingredients needed to dr ive the New Journalism. These were not stories and events that fit into th e traditional hard-news format of mainstream journalism at the time.

PAGE 14

7 The American newspaper industry clung to strict objectivit y even as this philosophy continued to be chal lenged by a new generation of reporters exposed to the relativist perspectives at uni versities (Smith, 1980, p. 62). Th e escalation of the Vietnam War led to widespread disagreeme nt as to the role of the United States and the role of the media as an arbiter of the objective truth. A growing number of writers threw away the restraints of objectivity in favor of truths unable to be conveyed though fact alone. Many journalists did not trust information coming from the government, though it was stated as fact. Fed up with serving merely as a condu it, Tom Wicker says, “reporters began to engage in the most objective journalism of all – seeing for themselves, judging for themselves, backing up their judgments with thei r observation, often at th e risk of life and limb, and the government’s wrath” (Wicker, 1978, p. 7). Wicker goes on to say: Not that the facts are unim portant, or may be ignored, or tampered with, anymore in political reporting than in other forms of journalism. But in political journalism, what can be assumed from facts, some times what can be plausibly suggested despite the facts, is often more important than the facts themselves – which may not really be facts anyway. (Wicker, 1978, p. 51) Whether loved or hated, journalists and media critics of the time acknowledged changing ideals of acceptable journalism. Ronald Weber stated in 1974, “The New Journalism is here, is with us, is real and, in its total effect as well as some of its parts, is new. To deny this is to deny the ev idence before our eyes” (Weber, 1974, p.14). Wolfe, Talese, Thompson and other followers of the New Journalism relied on direct observation and intuition as indispensable tools to find a truth. Each of these three departed from objectivity in differing de grees. Hunter Thompson is considered the wildest and most detached from the journalism establishment. In Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to th e Heart of the American Dream Hunter Thompson

PAGE 15

8 never ends up at his destination. Instead of covering a motorcycle race in the Nevada desert, Thompson details using any and ever y drug in a psychedelic journey through Las Vegas searching for the so-called American Dream. Although this is an extreme example, it illustrates why many journa lists and media critics of the time had difficulty taking Thompson seriously. One of Tom Wolfe’s most noted early pieces, “There Goes That Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby,” ran in Esquire as a happy accident. Wolfe was a feature writer at the New York Herald Tribune and came to Esquire editor Harold Hayes in 1963 with the idea of covering the teen age subculture of ca r customization in California. Hayes, with some reservation, ag reed and paid Wolfe’s way. Months later, Hayes still was without a singl e page of copy from Wolfe. Without a story, or even an idea of when it might appear, Hayes sent a photographer to a tr aveling exhibit of customized cars that had come to New Jerse y. Hayes wanted a studi o portrait of one of the wildest. The photo was sent to run in the ne xt issue, which had to be at the engraver in Chicago within two w eeks (Polsgrove, 1995, p. 86). Hayes told managing editor Byron Dobell to call Wolfe and get the story. Dobell gave Wolfe a deadline of Friday before the Monday the photograph had to be sent to the engraver. The words wouldn’t come. On Frid ay, Hayes called his automotive editor and asked if she could write the story from Wolfe’ s notes. Dobell told Wolfe to type out his notes and send them immediately. Wolfe started typing at 8 p.m. and kept going until just after 6 a.m. Wolfe typed a stream-of-consci ousness, first-person perspective to Dobell. Dobell removed the “Dear Byron,” from the beginning of the notes, practically made no

PAGE 16

9 edits and sent Wolfe’s notes to run as the story (Polsgrove, 1995, p.86). Hayes later wrote: From this decision, and at the very instant, came the first words of an extraordinary new voice – italics, ellipses, exclamation ma rks, shifting tenses, arcane references, every bit of freight and baggage he had co llected out of his past, from newspaper bets back through postgraduate studies in art history at Yale. (Polsgrove, 1995, p. 86) This piece helped give credibility to the inclusion of style and context in journalism. Many critics never agreed with or accept the New Journalism, but few can discount the far-reaching influences of th e New York journalists during the 1960s and 70s. Hayes described Wolfe’s piece as a prim e example of how the relationship between editor and writer can bring forth what coul d not have been created by either alone (Polsgrove, 1995, p. 86). Situations seldom arise where writers and editors work together to truly foster creativity and excellent writing in additi on to factual report ing. And when these cooperate ingredients have come together, the literary journalism products have been confined almost exclusively to magazine writing. While mainstream newspaper writing adheres to an inverted pyramid template, only allowing the straight facts in an often nave effort to obliterate any subjectivity on behalf the writer, this paper will look at another time and place where literary journalism accomp lished great things. In this work, I will showcase The Miami Herald in the 1980s as a melting pot of talented writers, motivating editors and fantastic environment that sparked a liftoff in the prestige and critical acclaim of the newspaper. While I do not contend that Miami’s culture society and political dynamics played a required role in the Herald’s ascension, some of the events of the period researched

PAGE 17

10 should be mentioned. Several events in 1980 had profound consequences on cultural and political relationships in Miami. On March 8, 1980, Fidel Castro hinted of possible mass emigration during a speech. The idea of letting Cubans flee followed on the heels of several boat hijackings. At the beginning of April a six Cuba ns crashed a bus through the gates of the Peruvian embassy in Havana and are granted asylum. Almost 11,000 Cubans assemble at the Peruvian embassy and ar e in turn granted asylum. Following this, President Jimmy Carter announces that the U.S. will accept 3,500 Cuban refugees. On April 20, Castro opens the port of Mariel fo r anyone who wishes to leave the country. Hundreds of boats arrive from the United St ates within the wee k. By May, more than 3,000 Cuban refugees land in Miami and the Florida Keys per day ( The Legacy of Mariel 2005). All in all, some 125,000 refugees fled C uba. During the boat lift, Castro had an unknown number of criminals and mentally ill persons released and loaded onto boats headed for the United States. When this became known, Carter began a crackdown ( The Legacy of Mariel 2005). Such rapid influx of peop le to Miami and South Florida certainly caused an unse ttling of the status quo. In the middle of the boat lift timeline, Miami also dealt with the McDuffie riots. On May 17, 1980, Edna Buchanan broke the story that four Miami policeman were acquitted for the killing of black in surance agent Arthur McDuffi e and trying to cover up the incident by falsifying police reports (Finkel, 1985). Following a police chase, McDuffie was handcuffed and beaten to death. Three days of rioting led to the death of 18 people and more than $100 million in damages (Driscoll, 2005). Though this paper does not claim that these or other political/c ultural/social events led to the Herald ’s rise in

PAGE 18

11 prestige, they certainly gave reporters more ammunition to write compelling stories that could utilize literary technique s to add nuance and context compared to less culturally diverse urban centers.

PAGE 19

12 CHAPTER 3 RESEARCH PARADIGM AND METHODOLOGY Choosing to look qualitatively at The Miami Herald primarily during the 1980s falls under the category of a case study, since this work is “an exploration of a ‘bounded system’ or a case (or multiple cases) over time through detailed, in-depth data collection involving multiple sources of information ri ch in context (Cresw ell, 1998, p. 61).” For this case the “bounded system” will look at the writers, editors and organizational structure/culture of The Miami Herald during its rise in the 1980s and the aftermath. Although the time frame of the paper’s rise could be extended to the 1970s, limiting the growth to the 1980s narrows the focus of this work on a particular group of established editors and up-and-coming writers who used literary techniques in daily newspaper writing. This work hopes to answer th e following two research questions: RQ1: What factors at The Miami Herald during the 1980s led to the paper’s rise in terms of industry prestige? RQ2: Why were these factors unique to Mi ami during this time? Case studies, as a conceptual framework, do not necessarily need a theoretical basis. However, this study uses a post-positivist paradigm. This paradigm has an ontology, or nature of reality, where we a ssume a real reality to exist, though fundamentally flawed “human intellectual mechanisms” and the constantly changing nature of phenomena make in impossible to re ach this one reality with absolute certainty (Guba & Lincoln, 1998). Though this work cites the New Journalism in New York and

PAGE 20

13 “frontier journalism” as other cases of literary techniques used an accepted in journalism, the author does not believe or try to find a ny precise formula that exists between these two cases and The Miami Herald Setting out, the author prop oses that the acceptance, or at least tolerance, of the New Journalism had a profound impact that validated creative news writing at The Miami Herald In regards to epistemology, the researcher contends to be objective and allow the textual analysis and interview participants to tell what it was like to work at The Miami Herald in the 1980s. Since the researcher was not able to observe the newspaper and organizational culture during this time period, this work relies on participant observation to describe the relationships between write rs, editors and the business side of the newspaper. Though the author freely admits to having preconceived no tions as to certain factors essential to a produc tive and prosperous newsroom, so many other cultural and political factors apply to this system, the New Journalism, frontier journalism and other cases that an exact set of ingredients that can be applied to an y newsroom to drive creativity seems impossible to find. However, this work makes an attempt to build a grounded theory of what elements made The Miami Herald during this time period a magnet for talent that grew and excelled thr ough the use of literary elements in daily newspaper writing. Barney Glaser and Anselm Strauss fi rst articulated “grounded theory” for sociology in 1967 (Glaser & Strau ss, 1967). Instead of entering the field with an a priori theory, researchers using grounded theory re alize and discard prec onceived notions and let the research build to a theory that will not be visi ble until the study has concluded. Unlike other research methodologies that flow from data collection to analyzing data and

PAGE 21

14 then to writing, ground theory employs a repea ting process. This process consists of going into the field to collect da ta, analyzing that data and th en going back to the field to collect more data. The researcher uses a “c onstant comparative method” to collect and analyze data until a theoretical saturation is reached, meaning further interviews or data collection are not likely to contribute anything new to the study (Creswell, 1998, pp. 5557). At this point, a grounded theory will emerge It will be articulated toward the end of the study and may take the form of a na rrative statement (Str auss & Corbin, 1990). Using grounded theory requires the rese archer to bracket. Through bracketing, the researcher acknowledges preconceived notions and puts them aside so as to not undermine or steer the researc h. During foundational re search and review of the literature for this study, unintentional connections were created between the political and cultural environment of Miami in the 1980s to New Yo rk during the rise of the New Journalism. Acknowledging these preconceptions, research methods were designed accordingly to limit the voice of the author in the research findings until the time for articulation and theory building. The primary method for data collection consisted of interviews and textual analysis. Although the list of accomplished Herald alumni is extensive and reaches into nearly every area of printed media, this work focuses on the relations hips between writers Carl Hiaasen and Edna Buchanan and their editors, primarily Gene Miller. While Dave Barry may be the most famous name from the cast of characters at The Miami Herald during the time frame of this study, he is known as a humor columnist and not a news writer, and therefore is not included as a j ournalist using literary elements in news writing.

PAGE 22

15 Carl Hiaasen’s writing can be difficult to classify. It took the shape of columns, features and in-depth investigation, though alwa ys being rooted in factual storytelling and vivid descriptions. Edna Buchanan worked the police beat. She re told spot news and general assignment reporting with grit and tone usually reserved for detective novels. Gene Miller served as recrui ter, editor and mentor for the Herald ’s talent pool during the 1980s, while still writing. Before the 1980s, The Miami Herald only had received three Pulitzer prizes in its history. Miller received two of the prizes for his reporting in 1967 and 1976. Miller won them both for in-depth reporting that resulted in freeing men wrongfully convicted for murder. Under Miller’s watch, the Herald staff picked up six Pulitzers during the decade of the 80s and later four in the 90s. Central to this research is an interv iew conducted with Carl Hiaasen concerning the relationships among writers, editors and management at The Miami Herald during its ascension in the 1980s and how these rela tionships have changed now at the Herald and throughout newsrooms in general. Edna Bu chanan, who now writes detective novels, could not be reached to comment on her rela tionship with Gene Miller and Miller’s influence on her writing and the writing of other talent at the Herald Pete Weitzel, who worked as an editor during the 80s, and was a close friend of the late Miller, spoke about Miller’s role at the Herald as a reporter, editor and ment or to Buchanan and other young writers. To understand the newsroom culture dynamic, “Covering the Cops” by Calvin Trillin (Trillin, 1986) was indispensable. Writing examples for both Hiaasen and Buch anan were taken from microfiche of newspaper archives from 1985 and 1986. Content analysis was performed on the front page and local sections of The Miami Herald for the first three days of each month over

PAGE 23

16 this two-year time span. All stories authored by Carl Hiaasen and Edna Buchanan were analyzed, with the exact headline, brief descriptions and specific examples of literary style and/or elements noted. The textual analys is originally was planned to examine from 1985 to 1988, selected arbitrarily. As more literature was reviewed, 1986 emerged as an important year because Buchanan received a Pulitzer Prize in general reporting, mostly for her writing from 1985. Theoretical satura tion was achieved after an analysis of two years. Further analysis would have found nume rous examples of literary technique, but nothing stylistically unique to exampl es already noted could be expected. Textual analysis was applied to the first three days of each mo nth, resulting in a total of 72 days used for analysis. This method was selected instead of examining a continuous period such as a single month of each year to limit repetition that could occur due to hot stories or issues (Riffe, Aust and Lacy, 1993). The purpose of the content analysis was not to arrive at generalizable categories that the writings of Hiaasen and Buchanan could be classified into, but rather to acquire a large sample of different styles used on a variety of story topics. Through the aforementioned methods a nd supporting textual analysis and interviews from other Herald staff, the research hoped to discover the major factors internal and external to the newspaper that saw the Herald arguably rise to its most prolific and respected position in the history of the paper. Although the primary interest of this research looks at the newsroom, ex amining the organizational environment of the Herald as a company and piece of Knight Ridder paints a more accurate account of the atmosphere and culture of the paper as a whole.

PAGE 24

17 All interviews were recorded. In-person and phone interviews were recorded on microcassette and transcribed verbatim. When a real-time interview was not possible due to scheduling constraints by a participant, a group of open-ended questions were e-mailed and returned. Though an audit trail of the daily research progress was not created, explanations of research design changes will be explained. Originally, this research was to be based on long interviews conducted with Hiaasen, Buchanan and Miller. Letters were written to the three requesting interviews either in print form and/or electronically, depending on what type of contact information was available. Hiaasen responde d in a postcard saying he woul d like to help but currently was busy moving and finishing a book. He said he would call when he was available. After several phone calls, messages a nd e-mails left for Miller at The Miami Herald one reply for an interview request was received. In an e-mail, Mille r was asked if he would be willing to talk about the newsroom environment at The Miami Herald during the 1980s. In the single response, he said that he was not involved in environmental reporting. Clearly the author failed in communicating the intent of the interview request. A prompt reply to his response went unanswered and no subsequent communication attempts were successful. Gene Miller died on June 17, 2005 from cancer. His longtime friend and coworker Pete Weitzel spoke over the phone abou t Miller and his relationship with Edna Buchanan, whom he helped win a Pulitzer in 1986. The researcher attempted to reach Buchanan through e-mail, the on ly contact information availa ble, and did not receive a reply. Six months after receiving the post card reply from Hiaasen, no other contact had been made. Thankfully the researcher loca ted an e-mail address for Hiaasen. Two days

PAGE 25

18 after sending him an e-mail, Hiaasen called and scheduled a time for a phone interview. His busy schedule did not allow for an in-p erson interview. Information regarding Buchanan and Miller was taken from existing literature and intervie ws with staff other than the two themselves. The bulk of information on Buchanan comes from published articles and an interview with Pete Weitzel.

PAGE 26

19 CHAPTER 4 CARL HIAASEN “I would take out the entire corporate leadership of mo st newspaper companies and lobotomize them in some mass ceremony. Th ey are not journalists. They are managers of a stock interest. They are ex ecutives with no imagination whatsoever,” said Carl Hiaasen (Hiaasen, interview, 2005). Carl Hiaasen was born in we st Fort Lauderdale, Fla. in 1953. Growing up with the Everglades as his backyard, playground and classroom, Hiaa sen watched land developers push back and contain the wilderness to create sprawling suburbs and strip malls. Through his first-hand experiences, Hiaas en became a watchdog for Floridian environmental issues and the government/political arrangements that often saw the Everglades on the losing side. Hiaasen is a kind of modern-day muckraker. He has seen the graft, corruption and indifference for the good of Florida manifest ed through environmental destruction and law-enforcement shenanigans. While little of Hiaasen’s newspaper writing can be considered neutral, he maintains a consistent view of what is right and wrong and what should be changed. Although he lambastes and ridicules, his positions are extensively researched and consistently held. He champions issues apolitically. He does not condemn land development as a whole, but views development in Sout h Florida as a land grab by those wishing to make a fast buck inst ead of following a policy of managed and responsible growth (Seymour, 1991, p. 28). Hiaasen began in collegiate newspapers writing a column for The Emory Wheel at Emory University in Atlanta. He transferred to the University of Florida and continued to

PAGE 27

20 write columns for the student-run Florida Alligator renamed the Independent Florida Alligator in 1973 when it moved off campus to pr event university administration from having editorial oversight. Alt hough he began his coursework at the University of Florida in the broadcasting track, the influence of professors Jean Chance and the late Buddy Davis caused a switch to print journalism. Hiaasen says of Davis: He was tremendous. I don’t know anybody in the business who had Buddy Davis and wasn’t profoundly affected by worki ng with him. Opinion writing was the course – I think that’s what it was calle d at the time…. With Buddy, what he taught you was, if you are going to have the audaci ty to write an opinion piece, editorial column whatever it happened to be, you better get off the fence; you better write what you say; you better have a target a nd say what needs to be done to fix the problem you are writing about, and hit hom e, have your research and your facts right. (Hiaasen cited in Pleasants, 2003, p. 246) Regardless of any criticism of his style a nd opinions, Hiaasen is certain to make his feelings obvious. Hiaasen did write the occasional general-assignment story for classroom obligations, but the bulk of hi s time was spent on his column (Hiaasen, interview, 2005). Hiaasen graduate d in 1974 and went to work for Cocoa Today now named Florida Today as a general assignment reporter. Additionally, Hiaasen had opportunities to write for Cocoa Today ’s weekend magazine: I went onto a staff that really opened things up when you suddenly go from writing 15-inch dailies to writing 90 to 100 inches on a story [for the magazine]. You better learn how to flex your writing muscles. It’s a much different exercise than knocking out a daily, magazine writing in general and magazine writing for newspapers in particular. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005) In 1976, The Miami Herald hired Hiaasen as a gene ral-assignment reporter. Hiaasen also worked on an investigations te am under the tutelage of Gene Miller, the Herald’s most accomplished writer with two Puli tzer prizes under his belt. Although Miller was still a writer, he also served as a de facto ed itor for several young writers including Hiaasen and Edna Buchanan. Hiaas en speaks of the importance of editors:

PAGE 28

21 It can go two ways in newspapers: you can get the creative impulses beaten out of you by bad editors or you can have g ood editors who encourage you to take chances and try to do differe nt things and take it to a higher level. I was lucky because the Herald has always been a writers’ news paper. One reason it attracts a lot of talented kids is because they do value good writing. Most papers don’t. Most papers, right now with what’s going on in the newspaper world, they want you to be short. It’s not depth reporting, and they certainl y don’t want you to be too creative with your writing. It’s pretty mu ch straightforward unless you’re writing about celebrities, of course. Then you can go nuts, because that’s where our business is headed. They’ll give you 20 in ches on J-Lo anytime, but you may get 15 inches on the carbombing in Mosu l today. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005) Hiaasen also wrote for Tropic the Herald ’s Sunday magazine, for a couple of years. He credits his time workings on Tropic as a huge help for his writing, particularly developing a tactical approach to writing longer investigative pieces. Hiaasen says: You just bring a whole different approach to it on the bigger stuff – the pace of the storytelling, the way information is pa rsed out – you don’t have to go for the inverted pyramid lead. You’ve got a long ti me to tell a story and build drama and employ some of the devices of literature in getting people engrossed whether it’s a feature story or a heavy, important story. (Hiaasen, in terview, 2005) Although compelling writing is crucial for in -depth reporting, Hiaasen believes the same approach should be taken for all types of newswriting: It’s the same chore, and you’re still a st oryteller. If you’re covering some dreary zoning board meeting or whether you’re co vering the crash of a 737, you still have to go out, gather the informa tion using all of your senses and then tell a story in a compelling way. That’s any journalist’s job, because if you can’t tell a story, no one is going to read it. And if no one is going to read it, you’re wasting your time and you’re wasting the space. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005) For Hiaasen, coming to work at The Miami Herald was like going back to journalism school. Miller and Bill Montalbano were “incredi ble gatherers of facts and information,” but both emphasized the need to hook the reader into a dramatic story. And this hook often took form by starting with an anecdotal lead and then “snapping the reader back in his chair with an abbreviated sentence that is used like a blunt instrument (Trillin, 1986).” Miller’s instrument is known simply as the Miller Chop. While Edna

PAGE 29

22 Buchanan stands as the vale dictorian of the Miller school, Hiaasen also learned that creativity and the use of style and variety in newswriting was not only accepted, but it was encouraged in the Herald newsroom. Hiaasen speaks of Miller’s encouragement for creativity: And the fact that Miller had two Pulitzer Pr izes sort of inoculated him from certain low-level editors who didn’t agree or who couldn’t handle the idea of editing a story that had a literary theme to it. Ther e were editors that recoiled at that idea. You tell it straight, just be straight. Well, if you’ve got the goods, you tell it as dramatically as possible and make it as human as possible. (Hiaasen, 2005, interview) Prior to Gene Miller, The Miami Herald had only received one Pulitzer Prize in the history of the newspaper. Though M iller’s talent and influence, the Herald went from one Pulitzer in the 60s and one in the 70s (both w on by Miller) to six in the 80s, including one by Miller’s protg Buchana n. Hiaasen says of Miller: Gene believed that no matter what kind of project we were working on, the whole trick is impact. And there is no impact without any involvement of your readers. You have to get them involved in a stor y. If you can’t get them past the jump, you’ve failed not only as a writer but as a j ournalist. That was Gene’s point, and he was right. It made for a hell of a lot more interesting newspaper. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005) Although Hiaasen emphasizes the need for impact, he acknowledges accuracy and adherence to factual storytel ling as the most important components of newspaper writing. But including descriptive details is just as important. Objectivity in journalism does not mean writing should be devoid of color and de tail. Details show instead of tell, allow readers to absorb facts and context, and give readers the abi lity to comprehend and understand a situation or issue. Hiaasen describes his proce ss for in-depth reporting: If you’re running an investiga tive series that’s running si x or seven or eight days on the front page, that’s a hell of a hard thi ng to get a reader to sick with. It was 20 years ago, and it is now in th e age of USA Today. As thin as most newspapers are and with so little space, it better be or ganized and it better mo ve the whole way. If it’s a touchy subject, obviously you’re goi ng to be getting lawyered along the way.

PAGE 30

23 In additional to the literary gymnastics you’re trying to do, obviously your main concern is getting the facts right and getti ng the story to be fair. And you’re dealing with not just several layers of editors but also lawyers. And for that, if you don’t have a good editor that is going to do batt le for you and be there with you, then you’re screwed. (Hiaas en, interview, 2005) Being objective and fair does not mean the writing has to be bland. But, unfortunately, creativity is th e casualty at most daily ne wspapers. And that is why The Miami Herald particularly during the 1980s stands out. While in-depth newswriting using literary elements generally is re served for news magazines, the Herald was fortunate enough to have a prestigious wr iter/editor like Gene Miller who could inspire and mentor young writers to express their creativity while st ill adhering to journa listic principles of fairness and accuracy. Hiaasen on the importance of good editors: If anything is the crisis point in newspa pers right now it’s ge tting that level of writing because you don’t have that level of editing in most cases. You have editors that are extremely timid and typically who are not themselves and were not themselves great writers or reporters. And they’re now editing reporters at are far more talented than they were. The best editors will recognize that and play to the reporter’s strengths. The most insecure edit ors will try to smother whatever creative impulses reporters have. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005) Hiaasen’s attention to detail and undeniabl e dedication to righting what he sees as social, political, cultural and environmental injustice brought him quick success. Hiaasen was promoted to investigations by Jim Sava ge, head of the investigations team, both because of his obvious talent and pursuit by the St. Petersburg Times Miller, Patrick Malone and Hiaasen worked on an eight part series in 1979 exposing “Dangerous Doctors” of South Florida (G reenlee, 1997, p. 60). Hiaasen also received praise from Jim Savage, for his insight and skill at efficient newsgathering during an investigative series of drug smuggling though Key West (Savage cited in Greenlee, 1997, p. 59). Both series were Pulitzer Prize finalists.

PAGE 31

24 Medical malpractice, drug enforcement (or lack thereof) and corrupt zoning enforcement are certainly newsworthy, though these injustices do not fall under the heading of objectivity. Crooks and swindlers get away with crimes because nobody knows about them. A reporter taking sides in a political issue with two defendable sides draws fire, but the same standard should not apply to all news writi ng. If the true purpose of newspapers is to benefit the social good and expose corruption, in addition to reporting daily spot news and happenings, it remains cruc ial to take a side and champion the ethical and legal. Regardless of race, culture or cr eed, corruption is corruption, unless you’re the one with the stuffed pocket. Gene Seymour writes in a profile of Hiaasen from the Los Angeles Times Magazine : Yet for all his good-guy composure, all you ha ve to do is get Hiaasen talking or writing about developers, dope dealers and va rious other forms of what he likes to call ‘human sludge’ and what they’re doing to the physical and emotional terrain of his home turf, and he is no longer an eas ygoing fellow. He’s at war. (Seymour, 1991, p. 26) In 1985, after recently finishing an inve stigative series on Bahamian corruption, Hiaasen was offered a news column. He also began work on his first solo novel, Tourist Season. His satirical style that remained dormant since his University of Florida days was turned loose. Although Hiaasen lashes out with ferocity at crooks and injustice, he is driven by his convictions in what shoul d be regardless of what is. Former Herald colleague Gene Weingarten says of Hiaasen: Most city columnists are paid handsomely to have two or three outrageous opinions a week, which leads to a prepackaged reci pe of outrage for its own sake. Carl’s triumph as a columnist is that he writes with a dry sense of out rage that’s genuine. (cited in Seymour, 1991, p. 26)

PAGE 32

25 In a January 1986 news column, Hiaasen honestly and bluntly reminds his readers of the seemingly endless string of corrupti on scandals involving police, DEA, FBI and Customs agents: I watched them on TV the other night, the beefcake cops charged with murder. As they capered and grinned and blew kisses at the courtroom cameras, I couldn’t help but wonder if steroids destroy brain tissue. Imagine: You’re a young policeman. You are hauled out of your home in the wee hours, handcuffed, fingerprinted and hustled bleary-eyed into the Dade Count y Jail like a bum. You are accused of a triple homicide, of racketeering, of stealing cocaine and selling it on the street, of using your badge and oath as instruments of crime. You are accused of being the worst thing that a copy can be – crooked. Yet when you and your weight lifter pals go to court the next morning, what emotion do you display while the whole city is watching? Arrogance. You mug for the cameras, laughing and joking while every good and decent cop on the streets feels a hot knot tightening in the gut. The feeling is shame. But you don’t have any. (Hiaasen, 1986a) Most journalists shy away from calli ng it as they see it. Not Hiaasen. Any policeman or public official shoul d be upset to get arrested an d sent to court for violating the foundation of their work: protecting the public. Blowing kisses at courtroom cameras is a detail that would probably be left in the typical reporter’s notebook for a hard-news story. However, Hiaasen has the talent of information gatheri ng, the support of his editors and a talent for biting satire that lend a unique voice to The Miami Herald that few news columnists can equal. Writing a rundown of police corruption is an important job for a journalist and a story that s hould be taken seriously. But when politicians and those designated to serve the public good act like im beciles, Hiaasen lets loose. From “Big questions unanswered in punching case” on August 1, 1986: Who punched James Blew? If you’re like me, you’ve been lying awake nights worrying about this dark mystery, and what it means to the future of Dade County.

PAGE 33

26 James Blew is the Dow Chemical ex ecutive who got clobbered in the face at a golf banquet July 2 after arguing with County Manger Sergio Pereira over seating arrangements. Pereira thought Blew’s group was sitting in the wrong seats. Blew disagreed. The two men exchanged opinions and then a third man huffed forward and clouted Blew in the face, causing a wound that required 13 stitches. All this took place at Rickenbacker’s restaurant following the aptly named Crazy American Golf Tournament. The banque t room must have been as dim as a cave because nobody seems to have seen the blow against Blew. Mayor Steve Clark was present but, char acteristically, claims to be unaware of what happened. Metro Police Director B obby Jones was also there but says he was preoccupied at the bar. In fact, th e place was crawling with police brass, but they all seemed to be looking the other way when the infamous fist was thrown. Not since the Clay-Liston bout in 1965 has there been such a phantom punch. As for Sergio Pereira, he claims – are you ready? – that he witnessed no punching, but assumed from Blew’s bloody f ace that the poor fellow was suffering a nosebleed from high blood pressure. In retrospect, perhaps Sergio would have been better off with the Bobby Jones excuse. At any rate, I think we get the flavor of what a classy get-together this was. By the time the assault report was ma de public, all mention of the county manager and his alleged role in the fr acas had been carefully blanked out. The intrigue deepened when it became know n that high-ranking police officials had ruminated of James Blew’s complaint fo r three weeks and done nothing. A vague explanation for the delay was offered along these lines: a) Detectives were awaiting the go-ahead from their superiors; b) Their superiors were in a glassy tran ce induced by aliens from another planet. The police department’s recalcitrance dissolved only after legal scholars pointed out that punching a person in the eye is a crime even in South Florida. Battery, it’s called (Hiaasen, 1986c). A phantom punch and 13 stitches on the face at a local golf tournament is a dream come true for most reporters. And when it su rrounds a public offici al and a Fortune 500 company executive it’s gold. It has almost a ll of the big-time news values: conflict, proximity, prominence, timeliness and cer tainly oddity (Bridges, 1989, p.333). But running this story as a traditional, hard-n ews item with inverted pyramid structure neglects the significance readers should take away. An adult splitti ng the face of another is battery. And when the event is filled w ith policeman and others sworn to uphold the

PAGE 34

27 law and bring criminals to justice, no one sa w anything? Hiaasen uses satire to show how incredible some of these statements sound: When you write about crooks and politicians as a columnist, they get upset, but they don’t get completely crazy if you ju st stand on a soapbox and preach; but if you make fun of them, if you use satire, nothing lacerates them worse. Nothing makes them squirm more or makes them more humiliated (Hiaasen cited in Craig, 1992). Hiaasen continually attacks absurdities th at pass as daily occurrences in South Florida. In regards to political coverage, Hi aasen often uses his column to remind Miami voters of past decisions and crimes Miami vot ers should not be quick to forget (Hiaasen, 1985b). Hiaasen says of his general pe ssimism toward American politics: The bottom line is that politics are extr emely comical, and the politics of the country are full of hypocrisy and bullshit. A nd most of the coverage is lamentably serious. Anyone who has been on the bus and seen the same campaign speech 25 times in the same day, whether it was George W. Bush or John Kerry, it’s very hard to take yourself seriously. It’s very hard to take the process seriously. The stakes are very high but the actual ceremony of politicking in this country is dismal and embarrassing and corrosive to the human sp irit. And it ought to be rendered that way. If journalism’s job is to accurately portray reality, then you certainly have to accurately portray the farcical things as well as the stuff that’s serious and heavy. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005) This statement by Hiaasen raises an importa nt question as to the nature and purpose of journalism. If journalism exists to info rm the masses and give the public information that can be interpreted and used to make info rmed decisions, then what is real should be objective, though hardly neutral. Hiaasen, al ong with most young reporters of his era, was influenced by journalism in the age of Wate rgate, in particular the political coverage in Rolling Stone and by Tim Krause and Hunter S. Thompson (Hiaasen, interview, 2005). The New Journalism of the time “threw the sh ackles off” superfic ial political reporting. Hiaasen notes: The idea of a Hunter Thompson experien ce at the Hugh Humphrey campaign and things like that were magnificent and upr oarious. [They] would never find their

PAGE 35

28 way into a newspaper back then, but now they’re quoted. When Hunter died, now it’s quoted almost wistfully in The New York Times and all of the establishment papers, the stuff that couldn’t get in when he was alive. (Hia asen, interview, 2005) Although the New Journalism of the 1960s a nd 70s was kept in magazines and out of newspapers, it had an undeniable influen ce on a generation of journalists. Hiaasen adds: [It was] stuff you could never get away w ith in a newspaper, but it was accurate; scathingly accurate in terms of political coverage. And also the freedom and whimsy and experimental things they di d with the language. There was no reason it had to be stodgy and dull. There was no reason you couldn’t have fun with an important story and bring the kind of struct ure and occasional touch of heresy into describing things. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005) Reading Hiaasen’s work, it is easy to get the sense that he tr uly has fun writing. Although his newspaper column is best known for attacking corruption, Hiaasen is far from a one trick dog. Regardless of the topic, it is rare for Hiaasen not to come up with something intelligent, provocative and often hysterical. One of his earliest columns, “Tanning action proves beauty can be beas tly,” gives a first-person account of a promotional event for the Miss Universe pageant where something called a “Squirtmobile” was supposed to “dispense” suntan lotion on 10 contestants. After describing initial problems preventing the “m ass squirting” he had hoped for, Hiaasen writes: Soon the Squirtmobile was in pla ce and the reigning Miss Universe, the Miss Universe, was told to get inside. This wa s the new plan: As the Squirtmobile sped down the crowded shore, Miss Universe w ould dangle her legs out back and pass bottles of Coppertone to contestants prancing after the little truck. Something you see every day at the beach, right? And safe, too. After about the sixth take, the TV pr oducers were getting hacked off. The contestants were running too fast, then t oo slow, then waving when they weren’t supposed to. And the swimmers! They kept staring at the camer a, screwing up the shots. “If you keep looking this way, we’ ll have to do it all over again, and these girls are getting very, very hot,” wa rned a big shot TV guy named Ray on a megaphone. Then something terrible happened.

PAGE 36

29 Somebody yelled, “Action!” a nd the Squirtmobile ro ared away with two stunning beauty queens in pursuit – all ac cording to script. But suddenly the contraption hit some soft sand and threw about half a ton of beach straight into one of the contestant’s face and hair. I don’t think I’ve ever fe lt as sorry for anyone. The woman (Miss Austria, according to a chaperone) was trying to smile and be a good sport, but behind her sm oky eyes you could tell what she was thinking – that it would be nice to use a claw hammer on the jerk who dreamed up this stunt. (Hiaasen, 1985) In addition to being uproarious and fun, Hi aasen makes an important statement in this piece. The Florida legislature gave $500,000 to the pageant to make sure Miami would play host. Also, the marketing ev ent closed sections of the beach and inconvenienced residents and tourists fo r “low-class commercialism” that has no perceivable benefit, direct or indi rect, to the city or its people. Hiaasen bounces from scorching crooks to ridiculing stupidity to describing the human condition without missing a beat. A March 3, 1986 feature story details a prisoner’s demons concerning his mother’s su icide when he was two years old. Hiaasen does not apologize for John Daniel Washburn atta cking a cop with a knife in a bar fight, but he sympathizes with a man who has spent his life as an orphan, unaware of his seven brothers and sisters, with the thought his mo ther ended her life by putting a bullet in her own head. Through a happy accident at a me dical examiner’s office, Washburn is reunited with a sister and learns the trut h of his unhappy mother who killed herself by drinking roach poison. Hiaasen writes, “It’ s impossible to know what would have happened to the boy if his mother had not sw allowed the poison. It’s impossible to know if his life would have been better, only th at it would have been different (Hiaasen, 1986b).

PAGE 37

30 Readers can relate and sympathize wi th events beyond control changing lives forever. But Hiaasen takes the gloves off wh en he feels lives and environments are changed or destroyed by greed. Influenced by his first-hand experiences watching greedy politicians and developers irresponsible de stroy the Florida Everglades, Hiaasen says: I just grew up feeling this way. It’s not sa ving a tree for the sake of saving a tree. If you save enough trees, you stop a lot of the graft and criminal behavior going on between politicians. They’re selling their vo te for what everyone wants – a piece of land. For that waterfront or lake fr ont or estuary. (cited in Bowman, 2000) Hiaasen’s outrage and frustration pour out of his column and into his novels. And his novels must be mentioned because of the common themes that carry from his newspaper writing into his fiction writi ng. Many of his novels center around an environmental issue he covered in hi s columns, including illegal dumping ( Sick Puppy Hiaasen, 2000) and Everglades destruction aided by a sample-doc toring biologist who hides the evidence of fertilizers being poured into the wetlands by an agribusiness tycoon ( Skinny Dip Hiaasen, 2004). Though he sheds light on eco-crooks in his columns, he reserves personal punishment for his fiction. Regarding the villain in Sick Puppy Hiaasen says, “The thing down in Florida is you can get in your car and dr ive by the carnage. See the bulldozers fill in the estuary. I just always wanted to put one of these bastards into a book and have terrible things happe n to him (cited in Bowman, 2000).” New York-based columnist, novelist and long-time idol of Hiaasen (Hiaasen, interview 2005), Pete Hamill says of Hiaasen, “If you think of the columns as drawings and the novels as paintings, they make up an absolutely coherent and consistent world view. And it’s the world view th at separates Carl, I think, from the rest of the pack (cited in Seymour, 1991, p. 26).”

PAGE 38

31 Carl Hiaasen has a gift for using biting satire and reporting skills to present readers with issues they should care about. Mo st of his pieces would not fall under a hard news label, but he employs the same j ournalistic techniques he used on in-depth investigations to provide information, detail and significance to read ers. Influenced by the writers of the New Journalism, and fostered by that talents and st atus of its editors, The Miami Herald newsroom of the 1980s allowed Hiaasen to use literary techniques in daily newspapers writing, both on investigative pieces and later in his columns, to engage readers in stories that might have been gl azed over and quickly forgotten if written in a traditional news style.

PAGE 39

32 CHAPTER 5 EDNA BUCHANAN Bob Swift, a Herald columnist who was once Edna’s editor at a paper called the Miami Beach Sun told me that he arrived at the Sun ’s office one day fuming about the fact that somebody had stolen his garbag e cans. “I was really mad,” he said. “I was saying, ‘Who would want to steal two garbage cans!’ All of a sudden, I heard Edna say, in that breathless voice, ‘Wer e they empty or full?’” (Trillin, 1986) Edna Buchanan seems driven by a genuine curiosity to find pertinent details overlooked by most writers. Carl Hiaasen uses his column venue, investigative prowess and satirical humor to shed light on events and issues that impact the people of South Florida. In contrast, Buchanan gave life to the deaths of people who would otherwise be relegated to a paragraph in the obitu aries section and then forgotten. Edna Rydzik Buchanan was born in 1939 in Patterson, New Jersey. Her father walked out on the family when she was seven, and she joined her mother wiring switchboards at the Western Electric plant af ter finishing high school. Buchanan later transferred to an office job within the company. Accompanying a friend to evening classes at Montclair State Teachers College, Bu chanan signed up for a course in creative writing (Trillin, 1986). Everyone in the cla ss already had something published, and Buchanan understandably felt intimidated. Bu chanan recalls the second class meeting, when she got back her first assignment about a woman who thought she was being followed: The next week in class was the turni ng point in my life. The teacher said, “Something happened to me this week that is the dream of every writing teacher.” It took me a while to realize he was ta lking about my story. I almost fell on the floor. He was so encouraging, and no one ha d ever encouraged me before. (cited in Finkel, 1985)

PAGE 40

33 Shortly after finishing the course, Buch anan and her mother took a vacation to Miami Beach. Both fell in love with the area and moved perman ently within a few months (Trillin, 1986). After starting her career with the now-defunct Miami Beach Sun Buchanan moved to The Miami Herald She was assigned to the poli ce beat full-time in 1973. As an up-and-coming reporter, Buchanan saw Gene M iller’s attention to detail, discipline and creativity lead to his second Pulitzer Prize in 1976 and the acquittal of Wilbert Lee and Freddie Pitts from a wrongful death senten ce conviction in 1963. While the police beat serves most reporters as a starting point, Bu chanan would continue to cover the crimes, both common and bizarre, of Miami fo r the remainder of her tenure at the Herald No other writer of the period at the Herald is better known for using literary description for hard-news storie s. In “Bank robbers flee afte r terrorizing customers” from 1985, Buchanan writes: Two gun-waving stick-up men herded terr ified employees, customers and a guard into a washroom Friday and cleaned out a Northwest section bank in broad daylight. The gunmen escaped, lugging away the loot in trash bags. The bank robbers wore Metrorail unif orms, said Metro-Dade police and the FBI. The Village Bank, at 7220 NW 72nd Ave., is across from the huge main storage and maintenance facility for Metrorail. At 10 a.m. the robbers, clad in the br own trousers and the tan shirts, with the shoulder patch insignia, of Metrorail maintenance workers, walked into the bank. One wore a baseball cap and brandish ed a nickel-plated revolver. The other gunman’s weapon was blue steel. They confronted the guard, marched six employees and two customers into a back washroom and forced them to lie on the floor. A bank employee, a gun at his head, wa s forced to open the safe for the robbers, who also emptied the tellers’ drawers. They left the coins behind. (Buchanan, 1985a)

PAGE 41

34 Buchanan includes all of the informati on from a typical crime story but takes it several steps further with fantastic detail and word choice. Readers understand where the event occurred but also the circumstances th at led to the robbery – it was pay day for Dade County and the bank “had big bucks on hand (Buchanan, 1985a).” Buchanan was fortunate to have editors like Miller who appreciated subtle details and creative writing that make crime stories fun to read while keeping them factual and informative. Buchanan also shows panache in sliding colorf ul description into the flow of information without wasting space. She also throws in a fantastic play on words with minor alliteration, having the robbers move witnesses into a washroom, cleaning out the bank and lugging the loot in trash bags. This piece serves as a perfect ex ample that creative, fun writing and adherence to jo urnalistic ethics are not mutually exclusive. Buchanan says of her eye for detail: “I want to k now everything. When the bullet comes through the window, what was on the TV? I always want to know the dog’s name and the cat’s name. I get really curious when I go to the morgue. I want to know a ll their stories. I’m not sure why (cited in Finkel, 1985).” And Miami provided Buchanan with a n ear endless of supply of crime, ranging from the mundane to the bizarre. Buchanan says of Miami’s proclivity for oddity: Even when Miami was this sleepy resort to wn that was closed half the year, there was strange and exotic stuff going on. I thi nk it’s because there’ s no place left to run for people who come down here to es cape something, whether it’s the weather or the law. Maybe that’s why they go crazy around here. Because they find there’s no place left to go. This is the jumpingoff point. (cited in Seymour, 1991, p. 28) Perhaps Buchanan’s most bizarre story came from a 1985 murder: A naked man carrying the severed head of a woman was found leaning against a Metrorail support at dawn Saturday in a quiet southwest Miami neighborhood. The man twice hurled the woman’s h ead at the young police officer who approached him. “I killed her. She’s the devil!” the man shouted.

PAGE 42

35 “There is no end to the bizarreness of this world,” vete ran Miami Homicide Sgt. Mike Gonzalez said later. “This is something not likely to ha ppen to any policeman again in 100 years.” Dina Tormos, 18, had been stabbed “many” times with a large hunting type knife, which also was used to cut off her head, police said. The rest of the murdered woman’s body was found in the suspect’s apartment, several blocks from where he was arrested at Southwest 33rd Avenue and 29th Terrace, just off U.S. 1. The suspect, Alberto Mesa, 23, was ch arged with first-degree murder. Hysterical and distraught, he was taken to the prison ward at Jackson Memorial Hospital and sedated. (Buchanan, 1985b) After covering thousands of murder s from the police beat at the Herald Buchanan still wrote with purpose. Many st ories, like the above, are quit e graphic. If the story only described the death of an 18-year-old fe male who had been decapitated, a reader wouldn’t take away anything as to the nature of this crime or how it came about. Many editors try to remove details that could horrify readers, but Buchanan believes a successful crime story should cause a man eating breakfast with his wife to “spit out his coffee, clutch his chest and say, ‘My God, Ma rtha! Did you read this!’ (cited in Trillin, 1986)” Critics may argue that many of the details of a murder do not need to be included to convey the information of the event to reader s and that inclusion is purely intended to create sensationalism. Although Buchanan ma y appear numb or unfeeling to the deaths she writes about, she always took the time to contact the next of kin for a few words about the deceased. Of including a family statement, Buchanan says, “For some people, it’s like catharsis. They want to talk about the kind of person their husband was, or their father. Also, it’s probably the only time his name is going to be in the paper. It’s their last shot. They want to give hi m a good sendoff (Trillin, 1986).”

PAGE 43

36 Dealing with such graphic violence every day must wear on a person. Buchanan is able to compartmentalize but admits someti mes it catches up to her. Buchanan says: Every once in a while, I feel burned out, that I’m going to start screaming, that I can’t stand one more tragedy. What helps me is to go to the beach and see the ocean and sky. Then I can psych myself out of it. I say to myself, “It’s better than working in a coat factory in Paters on, N.J.” (cited in Finkel, 1985). Buchanan’s versatility, quality and creativ ity in covering the police beat won her the 1986 Pulitzer Prize for General News Re porting. She covered the recovery of items from a high-society burglar police had been tr acking over four years. Buchanan closes the story by writing, “A crystal box full of seed p earls and tiny turquoise beads must have belonged to somebody’s grandmother. A valuable framed miniature of an Indian couple engaged in something from the [Kama] Su tra probably did not (Buchanan, 1985d).” She wrote about a 14to 16-year-old girl shoo ting a man in front of a movie theater for talking to her (Buchanan, 1985g) and about a 2-year-old boy wounded in the crossfire of an apartment complex shootout (Buchanan, 1985e). Her most powerful story from 1985 is “Dad pays last visit to slain daughter.” Buchanan begins: Handcuffed and weeping, Charles Griffith saw his 3-year-old daughter, Joy, for the last time Sunday. The brief goodbye at Van Orsdel Fune ral Chapel was permitted by order of a Circuit Court judge. Light rain fell and a thunderstorm threatened as armed police and uniformed corrections officers led Griffith into the chapel. Ten minutes later, as the storm broke into a deluge, they took him back to his Dade County Jail cell. He was crying and saying, “My God, my God, my God.” Griffith, 25, fired two bullets into his lit tle girl’s heart as she lay comatose in her crib in the special care nursery at Miami Children’s Hospital on Friday night. Joy had been there since Oct. 23, th e day she was irreversibly braindamaged in a freak accident. As she climbed into a reclining chair to watch cartoons, she was caught by th e footrest. It closed on her neck. She was not breathing and had no heartbeat when her mother found her. Paramedics restored her breathing, but she remained in a coma.

PAGE 44

37 Her ordeal and her short life ended, J oy lay in a tiny coffin Sunday, clad in a pink nightgown. Her father wore the same clothes he had on when he was arrested. “He’s still confused,” said Griffith’s attorney, Roy Black. “Every time he discusses the case, he breaks up cryi ng. It’s a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. Certain that his only chil d was aware and suffering, Griffith said he could no longer endure her pain. “I miss her more than anything,” he sa id Saturday. “Part of my heart is gone, but at the same time, I’m glad she’s at peace. (Buchanan, 1985f) Police charged Griffith with first-degree murder using a prior statement that Griffith had said his daughter was better off dead as ev idence of premedita tion. The judge denied bond but did grant the uncommon request to allow Griffith attended his daughter’s funeral. Buchanan continues: Before the accident, Joy was a bright and beautiful 2-year-old blond with eyes her father described as “filled with angel dust. Her eyes were blue, with little flecks of light in them,” Griffith said. By age 2, she spoke both Spanish and English. “Every morning she would say, ‘Goooood morning, Daddy.’ And I’d say, ‘Joy, why are you so pretty?’ and she’d say, ‘Because I look like my daddy.’” At his tiny South Beach apartment, the centerpiece, a 10-by-12-inch oil portrait of Joy, is surrounded by hundred s of family photos of the child. Before going to bed each night, Joy would place her favorite toy dog on her father’s bed, cover it with a blanket and say, “Nighty night.” “It’s still there, on my bed, with a blanket over it,” Griffith said. On her third birthday, April 4, Joy was five months into her coma, her father donned clown makeup and took balloons, presents and a birthday cake to her bedside. He held her limp wrist to cut the cake. On Friday night, in the nursery, he sang Daddy’s Girl to her. (Buchanan, 1985f) The day after Charles Griffith ended his da ughter’s life, Buchanan met with a street preacher, one of the few people who knew Gr iffith. The preacher escorted her to Griffith’s workplace, a por no theater. In the projecti on booth, 13 photographs of Joy Griffith were taped to the wall. Looking at the pictures, the preacher told Buchanan he was going to visit Griffith in jail. Buchan an gave him her phone number, and asked him

PAGE 45

38 to pass it along. Later that day her phone ri ng, and Charles Griffith gave Edna Buchanan his story, a story about a horrible accident and the unbearable pa in of watching your daughter lie in a coma for five months with little chance of ev er making a recovery. Buchanan was the one reporter to get the story, and it ran front page the next day (Finkel, 1985). Regardless of a reader’s personal mora lity concerning euthanasia, Buchanan certainly makes the father a sympathetic char acter. And more impor tantly, she shows the reader Griffith’s love for his daughter thr ough his actions instead of relying on a quote, which would struggle to achieve emotional impact. The little girl, Joy, has a personality in this story, even though she was only two years old when the accident occurred. Conversely to the story of a young girl kille d in a tragic accident, Buchanan wrote about a five-year-old boy who could face a murder charge. In “Boy, 5, admits to pushing tot to his death,” Buchanan writes: A smiling 5-year-old boy calmly confe ssed to police Sunday night that he deliberately pushed a 3-year-old playmate five floors to his death at a Miami Beach bay-front condominium. The boy’s story shocked detectives. “He doesn’t think he did anything wr ong,” Miami Beach detective Robert Davis said. “He claims that the 3-year-old was complaining that his parents beat him and said he wanted to die – so he obliged. “He said he pushed him. He watched him fall. He heard him scream when he hit the ground and then he went for help,” Davis said. “It’s horrendous. He doesn’t show any remorse.” Lazaro Gonzalez Jr., a husky 70-pound preschooler, ate two slices of pizza, a garlic roll and a banana afte r he confessed. (Buchanan, 1986) Former managing editor Pete Weitzel says that Gene Miller helped push Buchanan into the running for the Pulit zer Prize in 1986. Miller was not only Buchanan’s mentor and friend, but as she said at Miller’s funeral, the only editor she ev er trusted (Weitzel, interview, 2005). Weitzel says of thei r relationship and her Pulitzer entry:

PAGE 46

39 It’s with Gene’s help, and ri ghtly so, that Edna was one of the great police reporters in the country. There had been a handful of others, but she certainly was one of the best and deserved some recognition. So the question was what and how. He had a very close, personal relations hip with Calvin Trillin. And he talked Calvin into doing a profile in the New Yorker Magazine on Edna. That profile ran in February of the year she won the Pulitzer Prize. There’s no question in my mind it had an influence. (Weitzel, interview, 2005). Trillin’s profile of Buchanan certainly put her in the spotlight and would make her name instantly recognizable with Pulitzer j udges. Miller knew ahead of time that the profile would be running just before the Pu litzer competition and saw the opportunity to have Buchanan recognized. Weitzel recalls: Gene came to me and said, “This is the y ear to submit Edna for the Pulitzer.” We helped pull together the entry, select th e pieces we submitted [most of which ran during 1985], and I helped him write the le tter. So, in fact, he orchestrated the submission and provided that, in knowing that this article that he talked Calvin into writing was going to appear, that this was a good time to do it. And he was right. (Weitzel, interview, 2005) Edna Buchanan, through the support of edito rs like Gene Miller, was able to tell compelling stories from the police beat that de scribe the people involved instead of just a profile pulled from the police report. She uses varied se ntence structure, cops-androbbers clichs and descriptions garnered th rough first-hand observation. Her writing also stands out for recollection of tiny details that would late r serve her as a successful mystery novelist. Most of her books involve the heroine Britt Mont ero, the police-beat reporter for a fictitious Miami newspaper.

PAGE 47

40 CHAPTER 6 GENE MILLER AND NEWSROOM CULTURE Although Carl Hiaasen, Edna Buchanan a nd numerous other writers that passed through the doors of The Miami Herald were blessed with natura l talent, it is undeniable that Gene Miller’s tenure at the paper had a tremendous influence on the newsroom culture and the development of young writers. Miller and Pete Weitzel both came to the Herald in the 1950s, to a newsroom alrea dy focused on innovative and provocative writing. Weitzel recalls: The paper went out and hired talented pe ople that were ambitious and wanted to grow. I don’t think anyone wa nted to put hats on people. We wanted to see what we could do and how far we could go a nd how good we could be. I think that pervaded the newspaper. It was the culture I grew up in journa listically. And it was one that Gene not only grew up in but he lped foster. (Weitzel, interview, 2005) The preexisting newsroom culture of intelle ctual diversity helped Miller get hired despite reservations by some of the sta ff, including Al Neuharth. Neuharth was the assistant managing editor of the Herald at the time and went on to found USA Today, the first national daily newspaper. Miller wa s hired despite his feisty nature and outspokenness. John McMullen, th e city editor, championed Miller. Weitzel says, “Al had been sort of turned off by Gene’s brashne ss at the time. But there was a spirit at the Herald that said no, we want those kinds of people. We want those people who will challenge us (Weitzel, interview, 2005).” Miller challenged himself and other Herald staff for 48 years before his death by cancer in 2005. He strived not onl y to write to the best of hi s abilities but wanted to see all great stories told in a compelling way to grab readers. Weitzel remembers watching

PAGE 48

41 Miller as a young editor help bring out the best in C.G. Burning, the long-standing courthouse reporter: He had unbelievable sources, but he couldn’t write wort h a damn. Literally what happened at five o’clock in the afternoon or so, C.G. would come, sit down, and you’d see him and Gene conferring. If it was an ordinary story, C.G. could write it. But if it was something really good, Gene would kind of debrief it and help him write it or rewrite it. By the time it got to the desk, with sized byline on it, it was a terrific piece of copy. It ha d been totally Millerized. A nd he would take no credit for it. But it was a good story, and he want ed a good story to be in the paper. (Weitzel, interview, 2005) Miller helped many young writers tell comp elling stories in different ways. He aided Edna Buchanan, his protg, with he r writing and saw her good stories made it through the editorial process and into the ne wspaper. His position as an editor evolved from being a senior reporter in the news room, a de facto editor for young reporters working on special stories, a nd his love for a great story. One of Buchanan’s most famous articles passed through the desk and into print because of Miller. Weitzel r ecalls Buchanan’s concern that her lead of “Gary Robinson died hungry” would be rewr itten at the copy desk: She had written the lead that way and was afraid it wouldn’t clear the desk, and she showed it to Gene and he said he liked it. So, he walked up and said something to the editor on the desk about how Edna ha s a great story. When she turned it in it just went right on through. (Weitzel, interview, 2005) One of the editors involved later told Weit zel that keeping Edna’s lead was heavily debated. To put the decision into context, th ere recently had been several incidents where unlicensed security guards had drawn weapons a nd killed people. In “Security guard held for slaying man in restaurant ruckus,” Buchanan begins: Gary Robinson died hungry. He had a taste for Church’s fried chic ken. He wanted the three-piece box for $2.19, plus tax. Instead he got three bullets – from a security guard who shot him when he ran. Police jailed the guard on a murder charge.

PAGE 49

42 Robinson, 32, walked into Church's, at 2701 NW 54th St., on last Sunday at 11:45 p.m., 15 minutes before closing time. An ex-convict with an extensive arrest record, Robinson lived nearby, at 2905 NW 55th St. (Buchanan, 1985c) Robinson, who witnesses say was intoxicate d, shoved his way to the front of the line, swearing along the way. A young woman behind the counter asked him to wait like all of the other customers. Robinson made his way through line and tried to place an order just before the midnight closing. No more chicken. Offered chicken nuggets as a consolation, Robinson punched the woman in the face and ran out the door. James Derrick Blash, the licensed security guard on duty, and several employees chased Robinson. Buchanan continues: The guard shouted “quite a few” warnings at Robinson, ordering him to halt, [Detective John Butchko] said. Robinson did not stop running. “So eventually the guard shot him,” Butchko said. The first shot from the guard’s .38-caliber revolver hi t Robinson in the back of the leg, the detective said. The final shots were fired from about fi ve or six feet away, according to the police. Robinson, critically wounded, was taken to Jackson Memorial Hospital. “It was probably poor judgment,” Butc hko said. “He was just trying to stop the guy.” Immediately after the sh ooting, police say the distraught guard anxiously asked several people, “Did I do the right thing?” “They agreed that he did to make hi m feel better. He’s a very nice guy,” said Butchko, who arrested him. “He isn’t a bad man, but he committed the crime.” Blash was initially charged with aggr avated battery. Robinson died two days later. The guard, who had been rele ased in his own recognizance, was rearrested on a second-degree murder char ge. He has been denied bond. (Buchanan, 1985c) On face value, Buchanan had a terrific lea d. However, when placed in the context of other similar shootings being talked about within the communit y, a traditional lead describing a security guard ki lling a man might be deemed more appropriate. Weitzel says, “I don’t think there’s any questioning that Gene’s co ming up and saying he thought it was a great lead convinced them not to chan ge it. No question that his influence had an

PAGE 50

43 effect on it. It was a great l ead, and it was a lead that wa s eventually a [Pulitzer] prize winner (Weitzel, interview, 2005).” Gene Miller’s love for great stories and the Herald ’s organizational structure helped the paper cultivate talented writers into award-winning journalists. Weitzel recalls: Our development of the Neighbors section in the late 70s and 80s, the suburban sections around the greater Miami area allo wed [the recruiters] to bring in very young people and train them and develop them in an aggressive reporting mold. All that helped. The paper was growing at the time, and I think that makes a difference. (Weitzel, interview, 2005) Weitzel says he saw these other sections and offices as an opportunity, a training ground to bring along talented writers. Th e system allowed promotion opportunities within the same organizati on and allowed the staff to watch young writers develop over time. Weitzel continues: We began to use that really as a way to, mo re effectively than we had in the past I think, to reach out and bring in some r eally good people and use it as a training and development opportunity. Some of the folks who came through the bureau system and the Neighbors system, turned out to be damn good journalists that if we hadn’t had [the system] wouldn’t have had. (Weitzel, interview, 2005) In addition to mentoring young writers, Mi ller also helped find and bring new talent to the Herald Weitzel, as either the assistan t managing editor or deputy managing editor, was placed in charge of intern-re cruiting trips. Miller became his regular companion on the trips for the next decade (Weitzel, interview, 2005). The Herald focused not just on recruitment but on having a viable and reasonable progression path for young writers to hone thei r skills and become great journalists. Without this focus and the positions to allow it to happen, advancement often means moving to another newspaper. Weitzel says that a newspaper not only employs its reporters but should push and educate them:

PAGE 51

44 Management has to allow the people to be creative. You have to allow people to make mistakes. And then you have to try to set up, in the editing process, you try to set up the mechanism so that those mistakes never get in the paper. But you want to push people both from a repor ting standpoint and a writi ng standpoint to do what they can to experiment, to try things to learn. (Weitzel interview, 2005)

PAGE 52

45 CHAPTER 7 AFTER THE MERGER The Miami Herald in the 1980s rose to prominence on the backs of a gifted, talented and dedicated editori al staff. Not only was the Herald a fun and educational place to work for young journalists, but indus try critics acknowledged the skill employed by bestowing six Pulitzer Prizes on the staff. Six Pulitzers in the 80s marks a significant change in industry stature after receiving a sing le Pulitzer in each of the previous three decades. Gene Miller, winner of two of the three original Herald Pulitzers, was a seasoned veteran of in-depth reporting and invest igations that also served as a de facto editor and recruiter for much of the paper’s young talent. Carl Hiaasen and Edna Buchanan ar e perhaps the two mo st important young writers groomed by Gene Mi ller and other seasoned Herald staff members. This includes Bill Montalbano, with whom Hiaasen would co-author his first three novels; Pete Weitzel, former managing editor and recru iter; and Jim Savage, leader of the investigations team that Hiaasen was a part of before transitioning to a news columnist. Dave Barry became one of the most famous humor columnists in the country, winning a Pulitzer in 1988, during his career at the Herald from 1983 until a hiatus at the end of 2004. More than 90 former Herald newsroom staff reporters, photographers and editors were in the newsroom of the Washington Post in 2004. There were dozens more at The New York Times (Hirsch, interview, 2004). In 1974, Knight Newspapers, Inc. and Ridder Publications, Inc. merged to become the largest newspaper company in America in terms of total circulation. Both companies

PAGE 53

46 had been publicly traded si nce the 1960s and had solid st ock-value history, but the two had very different perspectives on the role of newspapers. Knight Newspapers had a strong culture of journalism firs t and a clear separation of th e editorial and business sides of a paper. Ridder, on the other hand, was we ll-regarded for effec tive business but often indifferent to the content. The merger hope d to blend Knight’s journalism and Ridder’s business savvy to the benefit of all th e encompassed newspapers (Merritt, 2005). Following the Knight Ridder merger, the co rporate mentality originally called for “strengthening the papers journalistically (Merritt, 2005, p. 59).” Although obviously headquartered in the City of Miami, the Herald also had state bureaus in Key West, Broward County, Palm Beach and further up th e east coast of Florida in Martin County Vero Beach and Cape Canaveral, as well as in the state capital of Tallahassee. Rookie journalists were hired into the Neighbors offices for Dade County, now named MiamiDade County. Rick Hirsch, who originally came to the Herald in 1980 and now serves as Managing Editor for Multimedia and New Projects, uses a baseball analogy to describe the hierarchy of advancement at the paper during the 80s: At that time, Neighbors was Single-A ball, and then there was the state [bureau] system. So, you’d get hired in the Herald and you’d work in the Neighbors sections. And if you were successful after a year or two, you hoped to get promoted to one of the state bureaus. And then goi ng to Miami on the City Desk was really the promise land. (Hir sch, interview, 2004) Hirsch says the Herald ’s bureau system contributed to the overall talent pool by allowing the paper to develop its own talent by offering young journalists more opportunities to advance within the same organization (Hirsc h, interview, 2004). Unfortunately, the bureaus began closing in the late 80s, with the rest shut down in the 90s, as a casualty of profit margin. While the Herald staff located throughout the state did quality, local coverage, the advertising reve nue gained could not justify the cost of

PAGE 54

47 printing and delivering a paper more than a hundred miles away from the Herald Advertisers in the primary distribution area of the paper did not want to pay for the inflated circulation figures that included many readers out of range and unable to consume the goods and services advertise d. This was also true for classified advertisements which were too expensive fo r residents of the bureau editions to buy, and the majority of listings were for the Miami area and not usable by bureau-area residents (Hirsch, interview, 2004). After closing the bureaus, the Herald lost some of its ability to retain young talent because the options for upward mobility were decreasing. Although this paper does not focus on the newsroom structure and change, it seems logical that fewer opportunities to advance vertically within the Herald caused many talented, young journalists to leave for larger papers, including the Washington Post and the Times before attaining journalistic prominence. Cal Fussman, an alumnus of the Herald bureau system and current writer for Esquire says, “No other newspaper in the country had so many great people leave (Fussman, interview, 2004).” David Lawrence, Jr. served as the publisher of the Herald from 1989 to 1999, steering the ship through a decade that saw massive media consolidation and a stronger industry focus on profit margins and the value of stock in publicly traded newspaper companies. Lawrence says, “By the time I reached the Herald in 1989, there already were significant indicators of a much tougher comp etitive and economic climate. Having said that, the paper remained quite profitable and, in fact, remains so” (Lawrence, interview, 2005).

PAGE 55

48 Lawrence rose through the Knight Newspa pers chain as a reporter and editor before being hired as the managing editor of the Philadelphia Daily News in 1971. He moved to The Charlotte Observer as editor following the Kni ght Ridder merger. Before coming to Miami, he had serv ed as the publisher of the Detroit Free Press Lawrence was in the minority of publishers who were trained as journali sts, not through the business side of newspapers (M erritt, 2005, p. 186). Arriving at the Herald Lawrence understood the needs of the newsroom and the non-traditional writing techniques, including the Miller Chop, ma ny staff writers incorporated in daily newspaper writings. Lawrence describes his outlook concerning literary news writing: Like most in newspaper journalism, I l earned the inverted pyramid way of doing things as a young reporter and the crucial nature of who, what, when, where, why and how. Those lessons serve well in any fo rm of journalism. Bu t story-telling is crucial and there are some stories that ought to be told in other, more compelling ways. What we sought to do is give read ers the facts and cont ext so they could make up their own minds in this democracy, but we also sought to tell these stories in different ways. We thought we had not only the obligation to tell readers and citizens the problems of soci ety but also some potential solutions they could ponder and then decide for themselves. Reporter s must begin with th e basics; the more seasoned reporters will be able to try other writing styles effectively. It is all about reaching the reader. (Lawrence, interview, 2005) Davis Merritt, in his book Knightfall (Merritt, 2005), desc ribes his first-hand account of the marriage between Knight Newspa pers tradition of quality journalism with Ridder Publications’ business savvy. Traditi onal ethos of newspaper journalism as serving the public good was the casualty to serv ing the business intere sts of Wall Street and stock owners. In a 2004 letter to Merr itt, Lawrence recalls becoming uneasy in 1995 in regards to economic pressures that alre ady existed but were increasing. Lawrence writes: But until the mid-nineties, the company was, I believe, quite successful in achieving a balance between business and news That balancing act was clear in the decisions over the years to pair a CEO with someone of different emphasis, Lee

PAGE 56

49 Hills, Jim Batten, and so forth. Only in recent years have the two most visible people in the company been businesspeopl e – and not journalists.… The business ethos became the paramount driver from the mid-nineties on. The balance is gone. (cited in Merritt, 2005, p. 187) Merritt details and criticizes what he sees as a fundamental shift in the outlook of newspaper owners. Instead of newspapers being an important business for the public good that also can be quite profitable, the bus iness of newspapers is being undertaken as a good way to make money, which Merritt sees as no different than manufacturing coat hangers. Marketability and competition dictate what level of quality yields the highest rate of return (Merritt, 2005, pp. 14-15). In a business that innately brings high profits, constant demand for increasing profits make it difficult to maintain a newsroom staff capable of creating quality journalism. La wrence recalls demands from corporate leadership: It was a constant tussle. I respected th e need to make a profit, though I might disagree with corporate as to how profita ble we needed to be, because that profit pays for the good journalism and keeps one free. But I cannot deny the constant pressure of a big public company, with big appetites for profits, frequently colliding with my own appetite for e nough space and staff to do the journalism mission well. (Lawrence, interview, 2005) Lawrence says constant, destructive pressu res to make cuts in order to meet increasing profit-margin goals were not dir ected and created an unhealthy, “permanently unsettled staff.” In 1998, Lawrence says, “I was being asked to get to 25 percent [operating return] over three years, and that would have meant cutting 185 positions. I just couldn’t do this cutting any more and live with myself” (cite d in Merritt, 2005, p. 187). Lawrence resigned. Near the time of his resi gnation, there was talk that Lawrence might run to be governor of Florida. According to Pete Weit zel, Lawrence was near his breaking point at the Herald when the talk began. Lawrence perhap s was flattered by the notion and didn’t

PAGE 57

50 turn down the idea at first mention, someth ing the publisher of a newspaper should do because of the tremendous conflict of inte rests between political aspirations and newspaper management. Although Lawrence’ s delayed refusal of running was inappropriate for a publisher, it had nothing to do with his imminent resignation (Weitzel, interview, 2005). In 2002, Hiaasen released Basket Case his first novel told as a first-person narrative and also his first nove l to feature a journalist as the lead character (Hiaasen, 2002a). Hiaasen’s main character, Jack Tagger, was once an investig ative reporter before embarrassing the “soulless, pr ofit-hungry owner of the news paper” at a stockholders’ meeting (Hiaasen, website, 2002b). Throughout the book, Hiaasen opines the nature of journalism and what it has become through the manipulation of the business side of news organizations. Hiaasen’s advice to the co rporate leadership of newspapers: Don’t step foot in a newsroom, don’t se nd any memos to a newsroom. Fight over the budget but don’t pretend to know anything about journalism. They know nothing about journalism. They know what their shareholdings are at any given hour. Today’s newspapers are edited for Wall Street, for the stockholders. They’re not edited for readers. They’re edited to get the maximum profit out of them, not to deliver the maximum amount of essential information to a community or neighborhood. That’s the last th ing they’re interested in doing because that’s what costs the most money. You have to get the little vermin in the suits back on the country club. Get them out on the golf course and keep them away fr om the newsroom. That’s the first thing you have to do, and that’s not going to be any easy thing to do. But if they were interested in making newspape rs more interesting and ther efore different from what everyone else is doing, and a be tter product in their work, then they would just start to leave the newsrooms alone and let the ed itors and reporters decide what’s best for those communities and to take some chances and to do some creative things. That’s a very tough thing. They don't want to leave their hands off. The money is too important now that the newspaper business is in such trouble that they're becoming more meddlesome instead of less meddlesome. There used to be a very distinct and unbreachable barrier between the busine ss side of journalism and the journalistic side of journalism.

PAGE 58

51 When I was in that newsroom in the Hera ld starting out, I couldn't tell you what the stock price was, and I couldn't tell you what our monthly circulat ion figures were. I couldn't tell you whether we were above budget or below budget or what the profit margin of Knight Ridder was going to be for the coming year. All of that information in not only polluting the newsroom now, it's being shoved into the faces of most reporters and editors. We're not making budget, we're not making projections, we're not making the number s. And ever since that's happened, numbers are falling. Every experiment that has ever been done where you burden the journalist with this kind of information has backfired econo mically for these corporations. They haven't figured it out yet. And they won't until it's too late I'm sure. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005) Hiaasen thinks for newspapers to have a chance at survival competing with the Internet and television news, newspapers must focus on depth reporting requiring a literary style of writing (Hiaasen, interv iew, 2005). Communi cation and delivery technologies fundamentally have changed th e nature of newspapers. Newspapers now will rarely be in a position to break spot ne ws stories. A 24-hour news channel or a blog or an electronic wire service broke it hours ago. Newsrooms still have a distinct advantage over other media outlets in terms of information gathering. Newspapers should no longer be concerned with br eaking news. Instead, reporters and editors should play to their strengths to create in-d epth pieces relaying the contex t and significance of issues and news events to its readers. Newspapers are not traditi onal businesses and should not be run as businesses with profit serving as the overriding indicator of success. Demand for profit margin creates cutbacks. Small staff size reduces the breadth and depth of news coverage. Consumers receive news faster and cheaper through te levision and Internet news sources. If newspaper coverage is stripped down to merely detailing events and horse race political coverage, no new information will arrive on a consumer’s lawn that has not been broadcast or released th rough more immediate medium s. Hiaasen concludes:

PAGE 59

52 You go back to your numbers and you go back to your salesman, and you sell a lot more ads. We’ll put a lot more good stuff in the paper. We’ll put stuff in the paper that readers can’t get anyw here else and you’ll sell some newspapers. But they don’t want to do that. They ju st want to recycle, and they’re paying a big price. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005).

PAGE 60

53 CHAPTER 8 CONCLUSIONS This thesis examined The Miami Herald as an established newspaper that employed literary writing styles and elements in daily newspaper writing. Th e 1980s originally was selected as the primary focus of this case study because this was the decade when Carl Hiaasen, Edna Buchanan and Dave Barry rose to fame both within the industry and with readers around the nation. As I conducted interv iews and analyzed texts, this time period became more important not just to the Herald as an individual ne wspaper but also for insight as to ingredients th at can create a healthy, capab le and award-winning newsroom as well as cause the quality of journalism to fall. Literary writing in newspapers can be trac ed back to Samuel Clemens, also known as Mark Twain, and the staff of the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise in the 1860s. Although criticized at the time, literary elem ents and first-person narrative would become commonplace in news writing toward the end of the century, culminating in the battle between Hearst and Pulitzer. The Yellow Jour nalism that allegedly started the SpanishAmerican War was abandoned during the first World War in favor of strict objectivity. Fueled by the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement and later Watergate, journalism had renewed purpose. The New Journalism of New York during the 1960s and 70s used literary techniques and different narrative styles to seek a nd report truth to readers. Although literary journalism of the time, and th e New Journalism in particular, was used almost entirely in magazine writing, the work of Tom Wolfe, Hunter Thompson, Gay

PAGE 61

54 Talese, Esquire Rolling Stone and others from this period influenced a generation of journalists. Gene Miller came to the Herald in 1957 and honed his investigative and writing abilities to win Pulitzer Pr izes in 1967 and 1976. Having received two of the three Pulitzers in the history of the Herald to that point, Miller ha d creative freedom from most editorial control. Buchanan and Hiaasen, wh ile being born with writing talent, were fortunate to have a mentor that had a history with the Herald and was virtually free from the criticism of most editors. Miller served as a de facto editor and not only allowed but encouraged creative writing, while still mainta ining a strict stance on getting the facts straight and incorporating deta ils to inform the reader. Pe te Weitzel shared Miller’s emphasis on creativity. As managing editor, Weitz el could have put the brakes on literary writing if he had chosen to. Hiaasen and Buchanan honed their researching and investigation skills while being pushed to te ll compelling stories because they did not have to write for bad, self-conscious edito rs. Good editors can accept when reporters write better than themselves and still push the reporters to excel. Bad editors are intimidated by good writing, especially when a literary theme is used, and want to be given copy that sticks to f acts without color or style. In addition to establis hed, quality editors, the Herald also had an organizational structure that allowed young talent to adva nce through its bureau system instead of having to leave for another pa per in order to receive a pr omotion. Unfortunately, business concerns led to the deconstruction of the bureau system by the mid 1990s, making it harder for young staff to stay at the Herald and hone their craft by working with a consistent team of editors for many years.

PAGE 62

55 The fast climb in stature and industry recognition of The Miami Herald including a record six Pulitzers during the 1980s, stalled and receded during the late 1990s amid corporate pressure for higher profit margins. Journalism, and newspaper journalism in particular, is not a traditional business. Simply put, the prof it margin in creating a product is a balancing act between the cost of creating the product, th e level of quality desired in the product and the price the consumer is w illing to pay for the product. A traditional business model should not be applied to running a newspaper company because the quality of information and how that informa tion can create a more informed citizenry should override the desire to maximize profits. For a business to exist, it must make a profit. And this certainly holds true for newspapers. However, newspapers have among the highest profit margins of any industry. Knight Ridder newspapers receiv ed 38 Pulitzer Prizes from 1980 to 1993, including three Gold Medals for Public Service with profits in the low teens. As operating return rose to more than 20 percent from 1994 to 2003, Knight Ridder only received nine Pulitzers (Merritt, 2005, p. 165). As focus on profit increased, the quality of journalism decreased, using the number of Pulit zers as an indicator of quality. Knight Ridder newspapers went from receiving almost three Pulitzers a year to less than one. While earning a profit is esse ntial to running a business, acceptable margins in newspapers should be balanced with doing quality journalism and informing the public and not driven by the price of a publicly traded stock. Newspapers no longer serve as a primary source for information consumers. Both Internet news sites and television news channe ls are faster and allow for better visuals. Newspapers continue to have, despite st aff reductions, a marketable advantage for

PAGE 63

56 providing in-depth reporting, context and signi ficance to the public. With circulation figures consistently falling, newspapers should be playing to the strengths of the medium instead of cutting costs and tr ying to duplicate other news so urces with little chance of breaking superficial stories. The Miami Herald in the 1980s stands apart as a newspaper having editors that motivated and encouraged, quality reporters who told compelling stories, and an organizational culture that recognized the qual ity of journalism as the primary indicator of a successful newspaper. Other newspapers during this time period may have had common elements and undergone sim ilar business transitions to the Herald However, the Herald situation is unique in that the paper had such a dramatic increase in industry prestige and award recognition in such a short time. Although this thesis examines the relationshi p between a particular group of writers and editors, further research should examine th e role of editor as motivator and mentor. The process of editing is essent ial to create a compelling fini shed process. The attitudes and styles of editors could be found to be near ly as influential in the writing styles used as the creativity of the writers themselves. Media consolidation, and the resulting profit-driven cor porate leadership, makes it doubtful to see a time when quality and pub lic service will be the primary focus of newspaper companies. Because this thesis exam ined factors related to The Miami Herald the findings and my resulting qualitative theory as to why the Herald rose to prominence should not be taken as a generalizable formula for success. Tracking the quality of journalism for this specific newspaper was based almost entirely on the number of Pulitzer Prizes awarded.

PAGE 64

57 While Pulitzers do serve as an accepted indicator of quality in journalism, further research needs to be conducted. Quality is s ubjective and therefore usually relegated to qualitative research. Research quantifying qualit y and relating a quality indicator to profit margin could help determine an optimal operating return for newspapers. While this quality indicator might be difficult to crea te due to many variables, it could help newspapers do unique and informative j ournalism while still making newspapers profitable enough to satisfy cor porate and business interests.

PAGE 65

58 LIST OF REFERENCES Bowman, D. (2000, January 31). My lunch with: Carl Hiaasen. Salon.com Bridges, J. A. (1989). News use on th e front pages of the American daily. Journalism Quarterly, 66 (2), 332-337. Buchanan, E. (1985a, February 2). Bank r obbers flee after terrorizing customers The Miami Herald p. 1B. Buchanan, E. (1985b, March 3). Nude man found with cutoff head The Miami Herald p. 1B. Buchanan, E. (1985c, March 17). Security gu ard held for slaying man in restaurant ruckus. The Miami Herald pp. 1B, 7B. Buchanan, E. (1985d, April 4). Theft vi ctims find display very rewarding The Miami Herald pp. 1B, 2B. Buchanan, E. (1985e, May 3). Gun battle kills two, critically hurts toddler The Miami Herald p. 1B. Buchanan, E. (1985f, July 1). Dad pays last visit to slain daughter The Miami Herald pp. 1B, 3B. Buchanan, E. (1985g, September 2). Teenager shoots man at movie theater The Miami Herald p. 1B. Buchanan, E. (1985h, December 2). Killer almost trapped at scene of murder The Miami Herald p. 1B. Buchanan, E. (1986, March 3). Boy, 5, admits pushing tot to his death The Miami Herald pp. 1A, 5A. Buschini, J. (2000). The Spanish-American War http://www.smplanet.com/imperialism/remember.html last accessed Dec. 4, 2004. Craig, P. (1992, December 3). Carl Hiaasen sticks it to folks who have paradise Sacramento Bee p. SC1. Creswell, J. (1998). Qualitative inquiry and research design: Choosing among five traditions Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

PAGE 66

59 Driscoll, A. (2005). The McDu ffie Riots: 20 years later. The Miami Herald. http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiheral d/news/special_packages/archive/11650356 .htm last accessed Aug. 1, 2005. Finkel, D. (1985, July 14). Meet Edna Buchanan, the dean of cop reporters. St. Petersburg Times pp. 1B, 4B. Flippen, C. C. (Ed.). (1974). Liberating the Media: The New Journalism Washington, DC: Acropolis Books. Fussman, C. (2004). Interview by aut hor. July, 28. Ponte Vedra, Fla. Glaser, B. & Strauss, A. (1967). The discovery of grounded theory Chicago, IL: Aldine. Greenlee, W. (1997). Symptom of the state: Carl Hiaasen and satire. University of Florida, Gainesville. Guba, E. G. & Lincoln, Y. S. (1998) Compe ting paradigms in qualitative research, in Denzin, N. & Lincoln, Y. S. (Eds.). Handbook of qualitative research Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, pp. 202-205. Hiaasen, C. (1985, July 2). Tanning ac tion proves beauty can be beastly The Miami Herald p. 1B. Hiaasen, C. (1986a, January 1). Latest arrests close out bad year for police The Miami Herald pp. 1B-2B. Hiaasen, C. (1986b, March 3). Suicide that to re family apart now brings it together The Miami Herald pp. 1B-2B. Hiaasen, C. (1986c, August 1). Big ques tions unanswered in punching case The Miami Herald p. 1B. Hiaasen, C. (2000). Sick Puppy New York: Knopf. Hiaasen, C. (2002a). Basket Case New York: Knopf. Hiaasen, C. (2002b). Website. http://www.carlhiaasen.c om/books/basket.html last accessed: June 1, 2005. Hiaasen, C. (2004). Skinny Dip New York: Knopf. Hiaasen, C. (2005). Interview by author. April 4. Via phone. Hirsch, R. (2004). Interview by author, October 15, Miami. Lawrence, D. (2005). Interview by author. April 30. Via e-mail.

PAGE 67

60 The Legacy of Mariel. (2005) http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiheral d/news/special_packages/archive/ last accessed Aug. 1, 2005. The Miami Herald Merritt, D. (2005). Knightfall: Knight Ridder and how the erosion of newspaper journalism is putting democracy at risk New York: AMACOM. Pleasants, J. M. (2003). Orange journalism Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Polsgrove, C. (1995). It wasn’t pretty, folks, but didn’t we have fun? New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Company. The Pulitzer Prizes http://www.pulitzer.org last accessed May 17, 2005. Purdy, J. (1999). The journalism of Mark Twain: Front ier reportage and social criticism Master’s Thesis: University of Florida. Riffe, D., Aust, C. F., & Lacy, S. R. (1993) The effectiveness of random, consecutive day and constructed week sampling in newspaper content analysis. Journalism Quarterly 70, 133-139. Seymour, G. (1991, November 17). Crazy from the heat: In mystery novelist Carl Hiaasen's Floridaa, crocodiles eat tourists eco-terrorists kidnap the Orange Bowl Queen, and Mickey Mouse is filthy vermin. Los Angeles Times Magazine, pp. 25, 26, 28, 58. Smith, A. (1980). Is objectivity obsolete?. Columbia Journalism Review May/June, pp. 61-65. Strauss, A. & Corbin, J. (1990). Basics of qualitative research: Grounded theory procedures and techniques Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Trillin, C. (1986, February 17). Covering the cops. The New Yorker Weber, R. (Ed.). (1974). The Reporter as artist: A l ook at the New Journalism controversy New York, NY: Hastings House. Weber, R. (1980). The literature of fact: Literary nonfiction in American writing Athens, OH: Ohio University Press. Weitzel, P. (2005). Interview by author. July 5. Via phone. Wicker, T. (1978). On press New York, NY: Viking Press.

PAGE 68

61 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH David Duwe Stanton was born in Stuart, Fl orida. During his sophomore year at the University of Florida, he changed his major from mechanical engine ering to journalism. As an undergraduate, he worked or interned in newspaper writing, editing, photography, magazines and corporate communications. He focused his graduate work in media convergence and online news/content production as a teaching assistant to David Carlson, director of the Interactive Media Lab. He will begin his doctoral work at the University of Florida upon graduation.


Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UFE0012301/00001

Material Information

Title: The Miami Herald and the Miller Effect: Literary Journalism in the 1980s
Physical Description: Mixed Material
Copyright Date: 2008

Record Information

Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
System ID: UFE0012301:00001

Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UFE0012301/00001

Material Information

Title: The Miami Herald and the Miller Effect: Literary Journalism in the 1980s
Physical Description: Mixed Material
Copyright Date: 2008

Record Information

Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
System ID: UFE0012301:00001


This item has the following downloads:


Full Text












THE MIAMI HERALD AND THE MILLER EFFECT:
LITERARY JOURNALISM IN THE 1980S















By

DAVID DUWE STANTON


A THESIS PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT
OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
MASTER OF ARTS IN MASS COMMUNICATION

UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA


2005

































Copyright 2005

by

David Duwe Stanton

































This document is dedicated to my wife, Autumn
















ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like that thank my supervisory committee for their guidance and

encouragement during the researching and writing of this thesis. Their enthusiasm kept

me moving when all I found were roadblocks.

Special thanks go to Carl Hiaasen, Pete Weitzel and David Lawrence, Jr. for

speaking with me and giving their perspectives on The Miami Herald. Without them,

writing this thesis would not have been possible.

Lastly, I want to thank my wife Autumn and my soon-to-be-born daughter for their

understanding and support of my time spent as a professional student.

















TABLE OF CONTENTS



A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S ................................................................................................. iv

ABSTRACT ............... ...................................... vi

CHAPTERS

1 IN T R O D U C T IO N ................... .... .......................... .. ............ ............. ....

2 LITER A TU R E R EV IEW .............................................................. ....................... 3

3 RESEARCH PARADIGM AND METHODOLOGY............... ................12

4 C A R L H IA A SE N .............................................................................. ................ .. 19

5 ED N A B U C H A N A N ............................................................................ .............. 32

6 GENE MILLER AND NEWSROOM CULTURE..................... ..... ............... 40

7 A F T E R T H E M E R G E R .................................................................... ....................45

8 CONCLU SION S .................. .................. .................. ........... ....... ...... 53

L IST O F R E F E R E N C E S ........................................................................ .. ....................58

B IO G R A PH IC A L SK E T C H ...................................................................... ..................61

















v
















Abstract of Thesis Presented to the Graduate School
of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment
of the Requirements for the
Degree of Master of Arts in Mass Communication

THE MIAMI HERALD AND THE MILLER EFFECT:
LITERARY JOURNALISM IN THE 1980S

By

David Duwe Stanton

December 2005

Chairman: William McKeen
Major Department: Journalism and Communications

The Miami Herald and the Miller Effect: Literary Journalism in the 1980s

examines the factors that led to the Herald's fast rise to status as one of the finest

newspapers in the country.

Many journalists and academics have examined literary journalism, particularly the

New Journalism of New York in the 1960s and 70s. Proponents of the New Journalism

used literary elements to create a different voice for journalism and incorporate grit and

context lacking from traditional, inverted-pyramid-style writing.

Gene Miller won the first two Pulitzer Prizes in the history of the Herald in 1967

and 1976, and his stature at the paper shielded him from low-level editors criticizing the

journalistic style he used. As an editor and mentor, Miller fostered creativity to tell

different stories in compelling ways.









This thesis also looks at Edna Buchanan, Miller's main protege, and Carl Hiaasen,

one of the most famous journalists to emerge from the Herald during this time. Buchanan

and Hiaasen later transitioned from journalists to novelists, though Hiaasen continues to

write columns for the Herald.

The Herald may not be the only paper to employ literary techniques in daily

newspaper writing, but the newsroom and organizational culture helped the paper go

from one Pulitzer in the 60s and one in the 70s to eight in the 80s. This thesis focuses on

The Miami Herald in the 1980s as a time and place where a daily newspaper gained

prestige and industry recognition through using literary journalism techniques which had

previously been confined to magazine journalism.














CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION

If you look at the newsrooms of the Washington Post and The New York Times,
they are filled with former Herald reporters and photographers and editors. There
are 90-some-odd Miami Herald newsroom people in the newsroom of the
Washington Post today. There are dozens, and I don't know what the number is, at
the Times. So, the Herald has always been a place that attracted great talent. Miami
... it's an exciting place to be. (Hirsch, interview, 2004)

During the 1980s, The Miami Herald gained prestige through a talented staff that

employed literary elements in daily newspaper writing. This thesis takes a qualitative

look at the factors that led to the rise of the Herald and why literary journalism, usually

relegated to magazine writing, was both accepted and encouraged as a means of telling

compelling stories. By the end of this work, I hope to answer two research questions:

What factors at The Miami Herald during the 1980s led to the paper's rise in terms of

industry prestige? Second, why were these factors unique to Miami during this time?

Carl Hiaasen began at the Herald as a general assignment reporter and quickly was

promoted to the investigations team. Under the tutelage of encouraging and established

editors, Hiaasen combined excellent interviewing, research and writing skills with literary

elements to inform readers of corruption within local government and shady deals that

often saw the environment of South Florida on the losing end. Edna Buchanan worked

the police beat at the Herald from day one until she left to write mystery novels full time.

Working with her mentor Gene Miller, who won two of the first three Pulitzers in the

history of the Herald, Buchanan used varied sentence structure, witty writing and









included tiny but colorful details to give proper sendoffs to murder victims for almost 20

years.

This thesis examines the influences, staff and organizational culture that saw The

Miami Herald reach arguably its peak standing in terms of industry recognition during

the 1980s. Using qualitative methods including interviews and textual analysis, I hope to

create a grounded theory as to the factors that attributed to the rise of the Herald and

events that changed the newsroom dynamic. While the findings are not intended to serve

as a generalizable list of ingredients to create a newsroom that fosters creativity and

inspires quality journalism, I hope it will explain the situation of the Herald in particular.














CHAPTER 2
LITERATURE REVIEW

American journalism, though seeking objectivity, has not always strived to be a

vessel of neutrality. Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known by his penname of Mark

Twain, battled against dry, nothing-but-the-facts journalism. Twain and the crew of the

Virginia City Territorial Enterprise in Nevada practiced what scholars have often called

"frontier journalism," a wobbly balance between fictionalizingg facts and factualizing

fiction" (Purdy, 1999, p.54). Twain worked from a factual framework and used

exaggeration, satire and other literary devices.

Distancing himself from mainstream journalism of the time, Twain often was the

target of contempt and ridicule from other journalists and newspapers. Twain did not

settle to stick just to the facts but included vivid description to provide context and

impact. Although Twain used simple words, he still favored lengthy description.

Interestingly, Twain chose common-language vocabulary instead of heavy words that

marked the writer as more intelligent or above the reader. Twain's inclusion of various

literary devices into journalism caused his critics to question his work as exaggerated or

even fabricated. The vanguard of the New Journalism would later be face with the same

critique (Purdy, 1999, p. 53).

The influence of Twain and the writers of the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise

were praised by some and dismissed by others. The partial credibility Twain helped gain

for literary devices and styles in journalism were abused by William Randolph Hearst

and Joseph Pulitzer near the turn of the twentieth century. Although Hearst and Pulitzer









are respected names today, their incessant battle for newspaper dominance saw American

journalism become the casualty. Historians refer to the period as "Yellow Journalism,"

with the enormous egos of Hearst and Pulitzer locked in an escalating battle of hyper-

sensationalizing news at the expense of objectivity and fact. Hearst is often blamed for

starting the Spanish-American War after printing photographs detailing how Spanish

saboteurs could have attached and detonated an underwater mine to sink the U.S.S.

Maine in the Havana, Cuba harbor (Buschini, 2000).

According to Anthony Smith, the media were questioned after World War I for its

break with traditional journalism techniques. The press adopted a more objective

philosophy focused on consensus that was "very different from the emphasis on facts that

had helped the press through the period of its growth earlier in the century" (Smith, 1980,

p. 61). The press "fostered the collection of information on the basis of a special diction,

which restricted the definition of a statement to that which could be assented to by all

(Smith, 1980, p. 61). Essentially, all nuance and color was stripped from news reporting,

leaving only the most basic facts and verifiable statements that could be observed by

everyone. Smith calls this the reality that remained "after the combined skepticism of the

age were stripped away from the reporter's vision of the world" (Smith, 1999, p. 61).

This adherence to objectivity and verifiability remained the cornerstones of

journalism until the 1960s. Unrelated to media and mass communication, many

researchers in the social sciences (psychology, sociology, social psychology, etc.) had an

epistemological shift during this time. Positivists view the world as having a reality and

looking to research findings as a means to determine the one truth. During this time

period, many social science researchers began adopting a relativist instead of a positivist









epistemology, or perception of the nature of reality. Relativists view the world as having

multiple realities where what is "real" differs depending on the experiences of the

individual.

A large amount of scholarship already has looked at the causes and techniques of

the New Journalism. Though it is impossible to draw exact lines as to a specific

time/place/event creating the term, Gay Talese, Tom Wolfe and Hunter Thompson

commonly are considered stewards of the New Journalism in the 1960s and 70s. All three

had different approaches and philosophies, but all three combined to bring the term to

prominence as an implementation ofjournalistic nonfiction (Weber, 1980).

New Journalists differed in mindset by going beyond just reporting the facts in

traditional, dry, inverted-pyramid style and structure. Though some critics say the New

Journalism crossed the lines of objectivity held as the cornerstone of journalism,

proponents chose to explore American culture, politics and society in new ways, often

injecting themselves in the scenery. Lester Markel described the New Journalists as

"deep-see reporters" who immersed themselves to get to the bottom of issues, topics and

events while still paying attention to the surface perceptions (Flippen, 1974, pp. 10-11,

160, 172).

Essentially, proponents of the New Journalism saw themselves as culture critics,

responsible for uncovering the color and dirt of a situation to bring the true meaning and

importance forth. They were not news reporters that only gave facts and direct

quotations. They also were not editorialists that relied on opinions and feelings. They

considered inclusion of observation and narrative description essential to painting an

accurate account of an event, topic or issue.









The American political and cultural landscape of the 1960s gave journalists an

abundance of fodder for experimentation. The space race heated up with the USSR

putting the first man in space in 1961, with Alan Shepard following a month later for the

United States. And the failed Bay of Pigs insurrection to overthrow the Castro

government in Cuba increased tension with the USSR. In October of 1962, the USSR

installed offensive missiles in Cuba aimed at the United States. President Kennedy set a

barricade preventing Soviet ships from entering the Caribbean. Nuclear war was avoided

as the USSR ordered the ships to turn away from Cuba. The Cuban Missile Crisis marked

a significant change in the United States' perception of the Cold War and the place of

America in the arena of international affairs.

Conflict in Vietnam was in its infant stage at the beginning of the 1960s. The

Cuban Missile Crisis was followed by the rise of Mao Zedong's attempted Cultural

Revolution. The United States steadily increased its presence in Vietnam after 1965 to

stem communism. The decade saw the march of the Civil Rights movement,

accompanied by protests, lynchings and race riots. President Kennedy, Martin Luther

King, Jr. and Malcom X were assassinated. Vietnam continued to dominate the American

mindset throughout the early 1970s, accentuated by the shooting of four student

protesters at Kent State University on May 4, 1970.

War protests, the hippie movement and the rise of other counter-culture youth

identities provided all the right ingredients needed to drive the New Journalism. These

were not stories and events that fit into the traditional hard-news format of mainstream

journalism at the time.









The American newspaper industry clung to strict objectivity even as this

philosophy continued to be challenged by a new generation of reporters exposed to the

relativist perspectives at universities (Smith, 1980, p. 62). The escalation of the Vietnam

War led to widespread disagreement as to the role of the United States and the role of the

media as an arbiter of the objective truth. A growing number of writers threw away the

restraints of objectivity in favor of truths unable to be conveyed though fact alone. Many

journalists did not trust information coming from the government, though it was stated as

fact. Fed up with serving merely as a conduit, Tom Wicker says, "reporters began to

engage in the most objective journalism of all seeing for themselves, judging for

themselves, backing up their judgments with their observation, often at the risk of life and

limb, and the government's wrath" (Wicker, 1978, p. 7). Wicker goes on to say:

Not that the facts are unimportant, or may be ignored, or tampered with, anymore
in political reporting than in other forms of journalism. But in political journalism,
what can be assumed from facts, sometimes what can be plausibly suggested
despite the facts, is often more important than the facts themselves which may not
really be facts anyway. (Wicker, 1978, p. 51)

Whether loved or hated, journalists and media critics of the time acknowledged

changing ideals of acceptable journalism. Ronald Weber stated in 1974, "The New

Journalism is here, is with us, is real and, in its total effect as well as some of its parts, is

new. To deny this is to deny the evidence before our eyes" (Weber, 1974, p.14).

Wolfe, Talese, Thompson and other followers of the New Journalism relied on

direct observation and intuition as indispensable tools to find a truth. Each of these three

departed from objectivity in differing degrees. Hunter Thompson is considered the

wildest and most detached from the journalism establishment. In Fear and Loathing in

Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream, Hunter Thompson









never ends up at his destination. Instead of covering a motorcycle race in the Nevada

desert, Thompson details using any and every drug in a psychedelic journey through Las

Vegas searching for the so-called American Dream. Although this is an extreme example,

it illustrates why many journalists and media critics of the time had difficulty taking

Thompson seriously.

One of Tom Wolfe's most noted early pieces, "There Goes That Kandy-Kolored

Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby," ran in Esquire as a happy accident. Wolfe was a

feature writer at the New York Herald Tribune and came to Esquire editor Harold Hayes

in 1963 with the idea of covering the teenage subculture of car customization in

California. Hayes, with some reservation, agreed and paid Wolfe's way. Months later,

Hayes still was without a single page of copy from Wolfe. Without a story, or even an

idea of when it might appear, Hayes sent a photographer to a traveling exhibit of

customized cars that had come to New Jersey. Hayes wanted a studio portrait of one of

the wildest. The photo was sent to run in the next issue, which had to be at the engraver

in Chicago within two weeks (Polsgrove, 1995, p. 86).

Hayes told managing editor Byron Dobell to call Wolfe and get the story. Dobell

gave Wolfe a deadline of Friday before the Monday the photograph had to be sent to the

engraver. The words wouldn't come. On Friday, Hayes called his automotive editor and

asked if she could write the story from Wolfe's notes. Dobell told Wolfe to type out his

notes and send them immediately. Wolfe started typing at 8 p.m. and kept going until just

after 6 a.m. Wolfe typed a stream-of-consciousness, first-person perspective to Dobell.

Dobell removed the "Dear Byron," from the beginning of the notes, practically made no









edits and sent Wolfe's notes to run as the story (Polsgrove, 1995, p.86). Hayes later

wrote:

From this decision, and at the very instant, came the first words of an extraordinary
new voice italics, ellipses, exclamation marks, shifting tenses, arcane references,
every bit of freight and baggage he had collected out of his past, from newspaper
bets back through postgraduate studies in art history at Yale. (Polsgrove, 1995, p.
86)

This piece helped give credibility to the inclusion of style and context in

journalism. Many critics never agreed with or accept the New Journalism, but few can

discount the far-reaching influences of the New York journalists during the 1960s and

70s. Hayes described Wolfe's piece as a prime example of how the relationship between

editor and writer can bring forth what could not have been created by either alone

(Polsgrove, 1995, p. 86).

Situations seldom arise where writers and editors work together to truly foster

creativity and excellent writing in addition to factual reporting. And when these

cooperate ingredients have come together, the literary journalism products have been

confined almost exclusively to magazine writing. While mainstream newspaper writing

adheres to an inverted pyramid template, only allowing the straight facts in an often naive

effort to obliterate any subjectivity on behalf the writer, this paper will look at another

time and place where literary journalism accomplished great things. In this work, I will

showcase The Miami Herald in the 1980s as a melting pot of talented writers, motivating

editors and fantastic environment that sparked a liftoff in the prestige and critical acclaim

of the newspaper.

While I do not contend that Miami's culture, society and political dynamics played

a required role in the Herald's ascension, some of the events of the period researched









should be mentioned. Several events in 1980 had profound consequences on cultural and

political relationships in Miami. On March 8, 1980, Fidel Castro hinted of possible mass

emigration during a speech. The idea of letting Cubans flee followed on the heels of

several boat hijackings. At the beginning of April a six Cubans crashed a bus through the

gates of the Peruvian embassy in Havana and are granted asylum. Almost 11,000 Cubans

assemble at the Peruvian embassy and are in turn granted asylum. Following this,

President Jimmy Carter announces that the U.S. will accept 3,500 Cuban refugees. On

April 20, Castro opens the port of Mariel for anyone who wishes to leave the country.

Hundreds of boats arrive from the United States within the week. By May, more than

3,000 Cuban refugees land in Miami and the Florida Keys per day (The Legacy ofMariel,

2005).

All in all, some 125,000 refugees fled Cuba. During the boat lift, Castro had an

unknown number of criminals and mentally ill persons released and loaded onto boats

headed for the United States. When this became known, Carter began a crackdown (The

Legacy ofMariel, 2005). Such rapid influx of people to Miami and South Florida

certainly caused an unsettling of the status quo.

In the middle of the boat lift timeline, Miami also dealt with the McDuffie riots. On

May 17, 1980, Edna Buchanan broke the story that four Miami policeman were acquitted

for the killing of black insurance agent Arthur McDuffie and trying to cover up the

incident by falsifying police reports (Finkel, 1985). Following a police chase, McDuffie

was handcuffed and beaten to death. Three days of rioting led to the death of 18 people

and more than $100 million in damages (Driscoll, 2005). Though this paper does not

claim that these or other political/cultural/social events led to the Herald's rise in






11


prestige, they certainly gave reporters more ammunition to write compelling stories that

could utilize literary techniques to add nuance and context compared to less culturally

diverse urban centers.















CHAPTER 3
RESEARCH PARADIGM AND METHODOLOGY

Choosing to look qualitatively at The Miami Herald primarily during the 1980s

falls under the category of a case study, since this work is "an exploration of a 'bounded

system' or a case (or multiple cases) over time through detailed, in-depth data collection

involving multiple sources of information rich in context (Creswell, 1998, p. 61)." For

this case the "bounded system" will look at the writers, editors and organizational

structure/culture of The Miami Herald during its rise in the 1980s and the aftermath.

Although the time frame of the paper's rise could be extended to the 1970s, limiting the

growth to the 1980s narrows the focus of this work on a particular group of established

editors and up-and-coming writers who used literary techniques in daily newspaper

writing. This work hopes to answer the following two research questions:

RQ 1: What factors at The Miami Herald during the 1980s led to the paper's rise in

terms of industry prestige?

RQ2: Why were these factors unique to Miami during this time?

Case studies, as a conceptual framework, do not necessarily need a theoretical

basis. However, this study uses a post-positivist paradigm. This paradigm has an

ontology, or nature of reality, where we assume a real reality to exist, though

fundamentally flawed "human intellectual mechanisms" and the constantly changing

nature of phenomena make in impossible to reach this one reality with absolute certainty

(Guba & Lincoln, 1998). Though this work cites the New Journalism in New York and









"frontier journalism" as other cases of literary techniques used an accepted in journalism,

the author does not believe or try to find any precise formula that exists between these

two cases and The Miami Herald. Setting out, the author proposes that the acceptance, or

at least tolerance, of the New Journalism had a profound impact that validated creative

news writing at The Miami Herald.

In regards to epistemology, the researcher contends to be objective and allow the

textual analysis and interview participants to tell what it was like to work at The Miami

Heraldin the 1980s. Since the researcher was not able to observe the newspaper and

organizational culture during this time period, this work relies on participant observation

to describe the relationships between writers, editors and the business side of the

newspaper. Though the author freely admits to having preconceived notions as to certain

factors essential to a productive and prosperous newsroom, so many other cultural and

political factors apply to this system, the New Journalism, frontier journalism and other

cases that an exact set of ingredients that can be applied to any newsroom to drive

creativity seems impossible to find. However, this work makes an attempt to build a

grounded theory of what elements made The Miami Herald during this time period a

magnet for talent that grew and excelled through the use of literary elements in daily

newspaper writing.

Barney Glaser and Anselm Strauss first articulated "grounded theory" for

sociology in 1967 (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). Instead of entering the field with an a priori

theory, researchers using grounded theory realize and discard preconceived notions and

let the research build to a theory that will not be visible until the study has concluded.

Unlike other research methodologies that flow from data collection to analyzing data and









then to writing, ground theory employs a repeating process. This process consists of

going into the field to collect data, analyzing that data and then going back to the field to

collect more data. The researcher uses a "constant comparative method" to collect and

analyze data until a theoretical saturation is reached, meaning further interviews or data

collection are not likely to contribute anything new to the study (Creswell, 1998, pp. 55-

57). At this point, a grounded theory will emerge. It will be articulated toward the end of

the study and may take the form of a narrative statement (Strauss & Corbin, 1990).

Using grounded theory requires the researcher to bracket. Through bracketing, the

researcher acknowledges preconceived notions and puts them aside so as to not

undermine or steer the research. During foundational research and review of the literature

for this study, unintentional connections were created between the political and cultural

environment of Miami in the 1980s to New York during the rise of the New Journalism.

Acknowledging these preconceptions, research methods were designed accordingly to

limit the voice of the author in the research findings until the time for articulation and

theory building.

The primary method for data collection consisted of interviews and textual

analysis. Although the list of accomplished Herald alumni is extensive and reaches into

nearly every area of printed media, this work focuses on the relationships between writers

Carl Hiaasen and Edna Buchanan and their editors, primarily Gene Miller. While Dave

Barry may be the most famous name from the cast of characters at The Miami Herald

during the time frame of this study, he is known as a humor columnist and not a news

writer, and therefore is not included as a journalist using literary elements in news

writing.









Carl Hiaasen's writing can be difficult to classify. It took the shape of columns,

features and in-depth investigation, though always being rooted in factual storytelling and

vivid descriptions. Edna Buchanan worked the police beat. She retold spot news and

general assignment reporting with grit and tone usually reserved for detective novels.

Gene Miller served as recruiter, editor and mentor for the Herald's talent pool during the

1980s, while still writing. Before the 1980s, The Miami Herald only had received three

Pulitzer prizes in its history. Miller received two of the prizes for his reporting in 1967

and 1976. Miller won them both for in-depth reporting that resulted in freeing men

wrongfully convicted for murder. Under Miller's watch, the Herald staff picked up six

Pulitzers during the decade of the 80s and later four in the 90s.

Central to this research is an interview conducted with Carl Hiaasen concerning

the relationships among writers, editors and management at The Miami Herald during its

ascension in the 1980s and how these relationships have changed now at the Herald and

throughout newsrooms in general. Edna Buchanan, who now writes detective novels,

could not be reached to comment on her relationship with Gene Miller and Miller's

influence on her writing and the writing of other talent at the Herald. Pete Weitzel, who

worked as an editor during the 80s, and was a close friend of the late Miller, spoke about

Miller's role at the Herald as a reporter, editor and mentor to Buchanan and other young

writers. To understand the newsroom culture dynamic, "Covering the Cops" by Calvin

Trillin (Trillin, 1986) was indispensable.

Writing examples for both Hiaasen and Buchanan were taken from microfiche of

newspaper archives from 1985 and 1986. Content analysis was performed on the front

page and local sections of The Miami Herald for the first three days of each month over









this two-year time span. All stories authored by Carl Hiaasen and Edna Buchanan were

analyzed, with the exact headline, brief descriptions and specific examples of literary

style and/or elements noted. The textual analysis originally was planned to examine from

1985 to 1988, selected arbitrarily. As more literature was reviewed, 1986 emerged as an

important year because Buchanan received a Pulitzer Prize in general reporting, mostly

for her writing from 1985. Theoretical saturation was achieved after an analysis of two

years. Further analysis would have found numerous examples of literary technique, but

nothing stylistically unique to examples already noted could be expected.

Textual analysis was applied to the first three days of each month, resulting in a

total of 72 days used for analysis. This method was selected instead of examining a

continuous period such as a single month of each year to limit repetition that could occur

due to hot stories or issues (Riffe, Aust and Lacy, 1993). The purpose of the content

analysis was not to arrive at generalizable categories that the writings of Hiaasen and

Buchanan could be classified into, but rather to acquire a large sample of different styles

used on a variety of story topics.

Through the aforementioned methods and supporting textual analysis and

interviews from other Herald staff, the research hoped to discover the major factors

internal and external to the newspaper that saw the Herald arguably rise to its most

prolific and respected position in the history of the paper. Although the primary interest

of this research looks at the newsroom, examining the organizational environment of the

Herald as a company and piece of Knight Ridder paints a more accurate account of the

atmosphere and culture of the paper as a whole.









All interviews were recorded. In-person and phone interviews were recorded on

microcassette and transcribed verbatim. When a real-time interview was not possible due

to scheduling constraints by a participant, a group of open-ended questions were e-mailed

and returned. Though an audit trail of the daily research progress was not created,

explanations of research design changes will be explained.

Originally, this research was to be based on long interviews conducted with

Hiaasen, Buchanan and Miller. Letters were written to the three requesting interviews

either in print form and/or electronically, depending on what type of contact information

was available. Hiaasen responded in a postcard saying he would like to help but currently

was busy moving and finishing a book. He said he would call when he was available.

After several phone calls, messages and e-mails left for Miller at The Miami Herald, one

reply for an interview request was received. In an e-mail, Miller was asked if he would be

willing to talk about the newsroom environment at The Miami Herald during the 1980s.

In the single response, he said that he was not involved in environmental reporting.

Clearly the author failed in communicating the intent of the interview request. A prompt

reply to his response went unanswered and no subsequent communication attempts were

successful. Gene Miller died on June 17, 2005 from cancer. His longtime friend and

coworker Pete Weitzel spoke over the phone about Miller and his relationship with Edna

Buchanan, whom he helped win a Pulitzer in 1986. The researcher attempted to reach

Buchanan through e-mail, the only contact information available, and did not receive a

reply.

Six months after receiving the post card reply from Hiaasen, no other contact had

been made. Thankfully the researcher located an e-mail address for Hiaasen. Two days






18


after sending him an e-mail, Hiaasen called and scheduled a time for a phone interview.

His busy schedule did not allow for an in-person interview. Information regarding

Buchanan and Miller was taken from existing literature and interviews with staff other

than the two themselves. The bulk of information on Buchanan comes from published

articles and an interview with Pete Weitzel.














CHAPTER 4
CARL HIAASEN

"I would take out the entire corporate leadership of most newspaper companies and
lobotomize them in some mass ceremony. They are not journalists. They are
managers of a stock interest. They are executives with no imagination whatsoever,"
said Carl Hiaasen (Hiaasen, interview, 2005).

Carl Hiaasen was born in west Fort Lauderdale, Fla. in 1953. Growing up with the

Everglades as his backyard, playground and classroom, Hiaasen watched land developers

push back and contain the wilderness to create sprawling suburbs and strip malls.

Through his first-hand experiences, Hiaasen became a watchdog for Floridian

environmental issues and the government/political arrangements that often saw the

Everglades on the losing side.

Hiaasen is a kind of modern-day muckraker. He has seen the graft, corruption and

indifference for the good of Florida manifested through environmental destruction and

law-enforcement shenanigans. While little of Hiaasen's newspaper writing can be

considered neutral, he maintains a consistent view of what is right and wrong and what

should be changed. Although he lambastes and ridicules, his positions are extensively

researched and consistently held. He champions issues politically. He does not condemn

land development as a whole, but views development in South Florida as a land grab by

those wishing to make a fast buck instead of following a policy of managed and

responsible growth (Seymour, 1991, p. 28).

Hiaasen began in collegiate newspapers writing a column for The Emory Wheel at

Emory University in Atlanta. He transferred to the University of Florida and continued to









write columns for the student-run Florida Alligator, renamed the Independent Florida

Alligator in 1973 when it moved off campus to prevent university administration from

having editorial oversight. Although he began his coursework at the University of Florida

in the broadcasting track, the influence of professors Jean Chance and the late Buddy

Davis caused a switch to print journalism. Hiaasen says of Davis:

He was tremendous. I don't know anybody in the business who had Buddy Davis
and wasn't profoundly affected by working with him. Opinion writing was the
course I think that's what it was called at the time.... With Buddy, what he taught
you was, if you are going to have the audacity to write an opinion piece, editorial
column whatever it happened to be, you better get off the fence; you better write
what you say; you better have a target and say what needs to be done to fix the
problem you are writing about, and hit home, have your research and your facts
right. (Hiaasen cited in Pleasants, 2003, p. 246)

Regardless of any criticism of his style and opinions, Hiaasen is certain to make his

feelings obvious. Hiaasen did write the occasional general-assignment story for

classroom obligations, but the bulk of his time was spent on his column (Hiaasen,

interview, 2005). Hiaasen graduated in 1974 and went to work for Cocoa Today, now

named Florida Today, as a general assignment reporter. Additionally, Hiaasen had

opportunities to write for Cocoa Today's weekend magazine:

I went onto a staff that really opened things up when you suddenly go from writing
15-inch dailies to writing 90 to 100 inches on a story [for the magazine]. You better
learn how to flex your writing muscles. It's a much different exercise than
knocking out a daily, magazine writing in general and magazine writing for
newspapers in particular. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

In 1976, The Miami Herald hired Hiaasen as a general-assignment reporter.

Hiaasen also worked on an investigations team under the tutelage of Gene Miller, the

Herald's most accomplished writer with two Pulitzer prizes under his belt. Although

Miller was still a writer, he also served as a de facto editor for several young writers

including Hiaasen and Edna Buchanan. Hiaasen speaks of the importance of editors:









It can go two ways in newspapers: you can get the creative impulses beaten out of
you by bad editors or you can have good editors who encourage you to take
chances and try to do different things and take it to a higher level. I was lucky
because the Herald has always been a writers' newspaper. One reason it attracts a
lot of talented kids is because they do value good writing. Most papers don't. Most
papers, right now with what's going on in the newspaper world, they want you to
be short. It's not depth reporting, and they certainly don't want you to be too
creative with your writing. It's pretty much straightforward unless you're writing
about celebrities, of course. Then you can go nuts, because that's where our
business is headed. They'll give you 20 inches on J-Lo anytime, but you may get
15 inches on the carbombing in Mosul today. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

Hiaasen also wrote for Tropic, the Herald's Sunday magazine, for a couple of

years. He credits his time workings on Tropic as a huge help for his writing, particularly

developing a tactical approach to writing longer investigative pieces. Hiaasen says:

You just bring a whole different approach to it on the bigger stuff- the pace of the
storytelling, the way information is parsed out you don't have to go for the
inverted pyramid lead. You've got a long time to tell a story and build drama and
employ some of the devices of literature in getting people engrossed whether it's a
feature story or a heavy, important story. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

Although compelling writing is crucial for in-depth reporting, Hiaasen believes the

same approach should be taken for all types of newswriting:

It's the same chore, and you're still a storyteller. If you're covering some dreary
zoning board meeting or whether you're covering the crash of a 737, you still have
to go out, gather the information using all of your senses and then tell a story in a
compelling way. That's any journalist's job, because if you can't tell a story, no
one is going to read it. And if no one is going to read it, you're wasting your time
and you're wasting the space. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

For Hiaasen, coming to work at The Miami Herald was like going back to

journalism school. Miller and Bill Montalbano were "incredible gatherers of facts and

information," but both emphasized the need to hook the reader into a dramatic story. And

this hook often took form by starting with an anecdotal lead and then "snapping the

reader back in his chair with an abbreviated sentence that is used like a blunt instrument

(Trillin, 1986)." Miller's instrument is known simply as the Miller Chop. While Edna









Buchanan stands as the valedictorian of the Miller school, Hiaasen also learned that

creativity and the use of style and variety in newswriting was not only accepted, but it

was encouraged in the Herald newsroom. Hiaasen speaks of Miller's encouragement for

creativity:

And the fact that Miller had two Pulitzer Prizes sort of inoculated him from certain
low-level editors who didn't agree or who couldn't handle the idea of editing a
story that had a literary theme to it. There were editors that recoiled at that idea.
You tell it straight, just be straight. Well, if you've got the goods, you tell it as
dramatically as possible and make it as human as possible. (Hiaasen, 2005,
interview)

Prior to Gene Miller, The Miami Herald had only received one Pulitzer Prize in the

history of the newspaper. Though Miller's talent and influence, the Herald went from one

Pulitzer in the 60s and one in the 70s (both won by Miller) to six in the 80s, including one

by Miller's protege Buchanan. Hiaasen says of Miller:

Gene believed that no matter what kind of project we were working on, the whole
trick is impact. And there is no impact without any involvement of your readers.
You have to get them involved in a story. If you can't get them past the jump,
you've failed not only as a writer but as a journalist. That was Gene's point, and he
was right. It made for a hell of a lot more interesting newspaper. (Hiaasen,
interview, 2005)

Although Hiaasen emphasizes the need for impact, he acknowledges accuracy and

adherence to factual storytelling as the most important components of newspaper writing.

But including descriptive details is just as important. Objectivity in journalism does not

mean writing should be devoid of color and detail. Details show instead of tell, allow

readers to absorb facts and context, and give readers the ability to comprehend and

understand a situation or issue. Hiaasen describes his process for in-depth reporting:

If you're running an investigative series that's running six or seven or eight days on
the front page, that's a hell of a hard thing to get a reader to sick with. It was 20
years ago, and it is now in the age of USA Today. As thin as most newspapers are
and with so little space, it better be organized and it better move the whole way. If
it's a touchy subject, obviously you're going to be getting lawyered along the way.









In additional to the literary gymnastics you're trying to do, obviously your main
concern is getting the facts right and getting the story to be fair. And you're dealing
with not just several layers of editors but also lawyers. And for that, if you don't
have a good editor that is going to do battle for you and be there with you, then
you're screwed. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

Being objective and fair does not mean the writing has to be bland. But,

unfortunately, creativity is the casualty at most daily newspapers. And that is why The

Miami Herald particularly during the 1980s stands out. While in-depth newswriting using

literary elements generally is reserved for news magazines, the Herald was fortunate

enough to have a prestigious writer/editor like Gene Miller who could inspire and mentor

young writers to express their creativity while still adhering to journalistic principles of

fairness and accuracy. Hiaasen on the importance of good editors:

If anything is the crisis point in newspapers right now it's getting that level of
writing because you don't have that level of editing in most cases. You have editors
that are extremely timid and typically who are not themselves and were not
themselves great writers or reporters. And they're now editing reporters at are far
more talented than they were. The best editors will recognize that and play to the
reporter's strengths. The most insecure editors will try to smother whatever creative
impulses reporters have. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

Hiaasen's attention to detail and undeniable dedication to righting what he sees as

social, political, cultural and environmental injustice brought him quick success. Hiaasen

was promoted to investigations by Jim Savage, head of the investigations team, both

because of his obvious talent and pursuit by the St. Petersburg Times. Miller, Patrick

Malone and Hiaasen worked on an eight part series in 1979 exposing "Dangerous

Doctors" of South Florida (Greenlee, 1997, p. 60). Hiaasen also received praise from Jim

Savage, for his insight and skill at efficient newsgathering during an investigative series

of drug smuggling though Key West (Savage cited in Greenlee, 1997, p. 59). Both series

were Pulitzer Prize finalists.









Medical malpractice, drug enforcement (or lack thereof) and corrupt zoning

enforcement are certainly newsworthy, though these injustices do not fall under the

heading of objectivity. Crooks and swindlers get away with crimes because nobody

knows about them. A reporter taking sides in a political issue with two defendable sides

draws fire, but the same standard should not apply to all news writing. If the true purpose

of newspapers is to benefit the social good and expose corruption, in addition to reporting

daily spot news and happenings, it remains crucial to take a side and champion the ethical

and legal. Regardless of race, culture or creed, corruption is corruption, unless you're the

one with the stuffed pocket. Gene Seymour writes in a profile of Hiaasen from the Los

Angeles Times Magazine:

Yet for all his good-guy composure, all you have to do is get Hiaasen talking or
writing about developers, dope dealers and various other forms of what he likes to
call 'human sludge' and what they're doing to the physical and emotional terrain of
his home turf, and he is no longer an easygoing fellow. He's at war. (Seymour,
1991, p. 26)

In 1985, after recently finishing an investigative series on Bahamian corruption,

Hiaasen was offered a news column. He also began work on his first solo novel, Tourist

Season. His satirical style that remained dormant since his University of Florida days was

turned loose. Although Hiaasen lashes out with ferocity at crooks and injustice, he is

driven by his convictions in what should be regardless of what is. Former Herald

colleague Gene Weingarten says of Hiaasen:

Most city columnists are paid handsomely to have two or three outrageous opinions
a week, which leads to a prepackaged recipe of outrage for its own sake. Carl's
triumph as a columnist is that he writes with a dry sense of outrage that's genuine.
(cited in Seymour, 1991, p. 26)









In a January 1986 news column, Hiaasen honestly and bluntly reminds his readers

of the seemingly endless string of corruption scandals involving police, DEA, FBI and

Customs agents:

I watched them on TV the other night, the beefcake cops charged with murder. As
they capered and grinned and blew kisses at the courtroom cameras, I couldn't help
but wonder if steroids destroy brain tissue.
Imagine: You're a young policeman.
You are hauled out of your home in the wee hours, handcuffed,
fingerprinted and hustled bleary-eyed into the Dade County Jail like a bum.
You are accused of a triple homicide, of racketeering, of stealing cocaine
and selling it on the street, of using your badge and oath as instruments of crime.
You are accused of being the worst thing that a copy can be crooked.
Yet when you and your weightlifter pals go to court the next morning, what
emotion do you display while the whole city is watching?
Arrogance. You mug for the cameras, laughing and joking while every good
and decent cop on the streets feels a hot knot tightening in the gut. The feeling is
shame.
But you don't have any. (Hiaasen, 1986a)

Most journalists shy away from calling it as they see it. Not Hiaasen. Any

policeman or public official should be upset to get arrested and sent to court for violating

the foundation of their work: protecting the public. Blowing kisses at courtroom cameras

is a detail that would probably be left in the typical reporter's notebook for a hard-news

story. However, Hiaasen has the talent of information gathering, the support of his editors

and a talent for biting satire that lend a unique voice to The Miami Herald that few news

columnists can equal. Writing a rundown of police corruption is an important job for a

journalist and a story that should be taken seriously. But when politicians and those

designated to serve the public good act like imbeciles, Hiaasen lets loose. From "Big

questions unanswered in punching case" on August 1, 1986:

Who punched James Blew?
If you're like me, you've been lying awake nights worrying about this dark
mystery, and what it means to the future of Dade County.









James Blew is the Dow Chemical executive who got clobbered in the face
at a golf banquet July 2 after arguing with County Manger Sergio Pereira over
seating arrangements.
Pereira thought Blew's group was sitting in the wrong seats. Blew
disagreed. The two men exchanged opinions and then a third man huffed forward
and clouted Blew in the face, causing a wound that required 13 stitches.
All this took place at Rickenbacker's restaurant following the aptly named
Crazy American Golf Tournament. The banquet room must have been as dim as a
cave because nobody seems to have seen the blow against Blew.
Mayor Steve Clark was present but, characteristically, claims to be unaware
of what happened. Metro Police Director Bobby Jones was also there but says he
was preoccupied at the bar. In fact, the place was crawling with police brass, but
they all seemed to be looking the other way when the infamous fist was thrown.
Not since the Clay-Liston bout in 1965 has there been such a phantom punch.
As for Sergio Pereira, he claims are you ready? that he witnessed no
punching, but assumed from Blew's bloody face that the poor fellow was suffering
a nosebleed from high blood pressure. In retrospect, perhaps Sergio would have
been better off with the Bobby Jones excuse.
At any rate, I think we get the flavor of what a classy get-together this was.
By the time the assault report was made public, all mention of the county
manager and his alleged role in the fracas had been carefully blanked out. The
intrigue deepened when it became known that high-ranking police officials had
ruminated of James Blew's complaint for three weeks and done nothing. A vague
explanation for the delay was offered along these lines:
a) Detectives were awaiting the go-ahead from their superiors;
b) Their superiors were in a glassy trance induced by aliens from another planet.
The police department's recalcitrance dissolved only after legal scholars
pointed out that punching a person in the eye is a crime even in South Florida.
Battery, it's called (Hiaasen, 1986c).

A phantom punch and 13 stitches on the face at a local golf tournament is a dream

come true for most reporters. And when it surrounds a public official and a Fortune 500

company executive it's gold. It has almost all of the big-time news values: conflict,

proximity, prominence, timeliness and certainly oddity (Bridges, 1989, p.333). But

running this story as a traditional, hard-news item with inverted pyramid structure

neglects the significance readers should take away. An adult splitting the face of another

is battery. And when the event is filled with policeman and others sworn to uphold the









law and bring criminals to justice, no one saw anything? Hiaasen uses satire to show how

incredible some of these statements sound:

When you write about crooks and politicians as a columnist, they get upset, but
they don't get completely crazy if you just stand on a soapbox and preach; but if
you make fun of them, if you use satire, nothing lacerates them worse. Nothing
makes them squirm more or makes them more humiliated (Hiaasen cited in Craig,
1992).

Hiaasen continually attacks absurdities that pass as daily occurrences in South

Florida. In regards to political coverage, Hiaasen often uses his column to remind Miami

voters of past decisions and crimes Miami voters should not be quick to forget (Hiaasen,

1985b). Hiaasen says of his general pessimism toward American politics:

The bottom line is that politics are extremely comical, and the politics of the
country are full of hypocrisy and bullshit. And most of the coverage is lamentably
serious. Anyone who has been on the bus and seen the same campaign speech 25
times in the same day, whether it was George W. Bush or John Kerry, it's very hard
to take yourself seriously. It's very hard to take the process seriously. The stakes
are very high but the actual ceremony of politicking in this country is dismal and
embarrassing and corrosive to the human spirit. And it ought to be rendered that
way. If journalism's job is to accurately portray reality, then you certainly have to
accurately portray the farcical things as well as the stuff that's serious and heavy.
(Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

This statement by Hiaasen raises an important question as to the nature and purpose

of journalism. If journalism exists to inform the masses and give the public information

that can be interpreted and used to make informed decisions, then what is real should be

objective, though hardly neutral. Hiaasen, along with most young reporters of his era,

was influenced by journalism in the age of Watergate, in particular the political coverage

in Rolling Stone and by Tim Krause and Hunter S. Thompson (Hiaasen, interview, 2005).

The New Journalism of the time "threw the shackles off' superficial political reporting.

Hiaasen notes:

The idea of a Hunter Thompson experience at the Hugh Humphrey campaign and
things like that were magnificent and uproarious. [They] would never find their









way into a newspaper back then, but now they're quoted. When Hunter died, now
it's quoted almost wistfully in The New York Times and all of the establishment
papers, the stuff that couldn't get in when he was alive. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

Although the New Journalism of the 1960s and 70s was kept in magazines and out

of newspapers, it had an undeniable influence on a generation of journalists. Hiaasen

adds:

[It was] stuff you could never get away with in a newspaper, but it was accurate;
scathingly accurate in terms of political coverage. And also the freedom and
whimsy and experimental things they did with the language. There was no reason it
had to be stodgy and dull. There was no reason you couldn't have fun with an
important story and bring the kind of structure and occasional touch of heresy into
describing things. (Hiaasen, interview, 2005)

Reading Hiaasen's work, it is easy to get the sense that he truly has fun writing.

Although his newspaper column is best known for attacking corruption, Hiaasen is far

from a one trick dog. Regardless of the topic, it is rare for Hiaasen not to come up with

something intelligent, provocative and often hysterical. One of his earliest columns,

"Tanning action proves beauty can be beastly," gives a first-person account of a

promotional event for the Miss Universe pageant where something called a

"Squirtmobile" was supposed to "dispense" suntan lotion on 10 contestants. After

describing initial problems preventing the "mass squirting" he had hoped for, Hiaasen

writes:

Soon the Squirtmobile was in place and the reigning Miss Universe, the Miss
Universe, was told to get inside. This was the new plan: As the Squirtmobile sped
down the crowded shore, Miss Universe would dangle her legs out back and pass
bottles of Coppertone to contestants prancing after the little truck.
Something you see every day at the beach, right? And safe, too.
After about the sixth take, the TV producers were getting hacked off. The
contestants were running too fast, then too slow, then waving when they weren't
supposed to. And the swimmers! They kept staring at the camera, screwing up the
shots. "If you keep looking this way, we'll have to do it all over again, and these
girls are getting very, very hot," warned a big shot TV guy named Ray on a
megaphone.
Then something terrible happened.









Somebody yelled, "Action!" and the Squirtmobile roared away with two
stunning beauty queens in pursuit all according to script. But suddenly the
contraption hit some soft sand and threw about half a ton of beach straight into one
of the contestant's face and hair.
I don't think I've ever felt as sorry for anyone.
The woman (Miss Austria, according to a chaperone) was trying to smile
and be a good sport, but behind her smoky eyes you could tell what she was
thinking that it would be nice to use a claw hammer on the jerk who dreamed up
this stunt. (Hiaasen, 1985)

In addition to being uproarious and fun, Hiaasen makes an important statement in

this piece. The Florida legislature gave $500,000 to the pageant to make sure Miami

would play host. Also, the marketing event closed sections of the beach and

inconvenienced residents and tourists for "low-class commercialism" that has no

perceivable benefit, direct or indirect, to the city or its people.

Hiaasen bounces from scorching crooks to ridiculing stupidity to describing the

human condition without missing a beat. A March 3, 1986 feature story details a

prisoner's demons concerning his mother's suicide when he was two years old. Hiaasen

does not apologize for John Daniel Washburn attacking a cop with a knife in a bar fight,

but he sympathizes with a man who has spent his life as an orphan, unaware of his seven

brothers and sisters, with the thought his mother ended her life by putting a bullet in her

own head. Through a happy accident at a medical examiner's office, Washburn is

reunited with a sister and learns the truth of his unhappy mother who killed herself by

drinking roach poison. Hiaasen writes, "It's impossible to know what would have

happened to the boy if his mother had not swallowed the poison. It's impossible to know

if his life would have been better, only that it would have been different (Hiaasen,

1986b).









Readers can relate and sympathize with events beyond control changing lives

forever. But Hiaasen takes the gloves off when he feels lives and environments are

changed or destroyed by greed. Influenced by his first-hand experiences watching greedy

politicians and developers irresponsible destroy the Florida Everglades, Hiaasen says:

I just grew up feeling this way. It's not saving a tree for the sake of saving a tree. If
you save enough trees, you stop a lot of the graft and criminal behavior going on
between politicians. They're selling their vote for what everyone wants a piece of
land. For that waterfront or lake front or estuary. (cited in Bowman, 2000)

Hiaasen's outrage and frustration pour out of his column and into his novels. And

his novels must be mentioned because of the common themes that carry from his

newspaper writing into his fiction writing. Many of his novels center around an

environmental issue he covered in his columns, including illegal dumping (Sick Puppy,

Hiaasen, 2000) and Everglades destruction aided by a sample-doctoring biologist who

hides the evidence of fertilizers being poured into the wetlands by an agribusiness tycoon

(.kiiiiiy Dip, Hiaasen, 2004). Though he sheds light on eco-crooks in his columns, he

reserves personal punishment for his fiction. Regarding the villain in Sick Puppy, Hiaasen

says, "The thing down in Florida is you can get in your car and drive by the carnage. See

the bulldozers fill in the estuary. I just always wanted to put one of these bastards into a

book and have terrible things happen to him (cited in Bowman, 2000)."

New York-based columnist, novelist and long-time idol of Hiaasen (Hiaasen,

interview 2005), Pete Hamill says of Hiaasen, "If you think of the columns as drawings

and the novels as paintings, they make up an absolutely coherent and consistent world

view. And it's the world view that separates Carl, I think, from the rest of the pack (cited

in Seymour, 1991, p. 26)."









Carl Hiaasen has a gift for using biting satire and reporting skills to present

readers with issues they should care about. Most of his pieces would not fall under a hard

news label, but he employs the same journalistic techniques he used on in-depth

investigations to provide information, detail and significance to readers. Influenced by

the writers of the New Journalism, and fostered by that talents and status of its editors,

The Miami Herald newsroom of the 1980s allowed Hiaasen to use literary techniques in

daily newspapers writing, both on investigative pieces and later in his columns, to engage

readers in stories that might have been glazed over and quickly forgotten if written in a

traditional news style.














CHAPTER 5
EDNA BUCHANAN

Bob Swift, a Herald columnist who was once Edna's editor at a paper called the
Miami Beach Sun, told me that he arrived at the Sun's office one day fuming about
the fact that somebody had stolen his garbage cans. "I was really mad," he said. "I
was saying, 'Who would want to steal two garbage cans!' All of a sudden, I heard
Edna say, in that breathless voice, 'Were they empty or full?"' (Trillin, 1986)

Edna Buchanan seems driven by a genuine curiosity to find pertinent details

overlooked by most writers. Carl Hiaasen uses his column venue, investigative prowess

and satirical humor to shed light on events and issues that impact the people of South

Florida. In contrast, Buchanan gave life to the deaths of people who would otherwise be

relegated to a paragraph in the obituaries section and then forgotten.

Edna Rydzik Buchanan was born in 1939 in Patterson, New Jersey. Her father

walked out on the family when she was seven, and she joined her mother wiring

switchboards at the Western Electric plant after finishing high school. Buchanan later

transferred to an office job within the company. Accompanying a friend to evening

classes at Montclair State Teachers College, Buchanan signed up for a course in creative

writing (Trillin, 1986). Everyone in the class already had something published, and

Buchanan understandably felt intimidated. Buchanan recalls the second class meeting,

when she got back her first assignment about a woman who thought she was being

followed:

The next week in class was the turning point in my life. The teacher said,
"Something happened to me this week that is the dream of every writing teacher."
It took me a while to realize he was talking about my story. I almost fell on the
floor. He was so encouraging, and no one had ever encouraged me before. (cited in
Finkel, 1985)









Shortly after finishing the course, Buchanan and her mother took a vacation to

Miami Beach. Both fell in love with the area and moved permanently within a few

months (Trillin, 1986).

After starting her career with the now-defunct Miami Beach Sun, Buchanan

moved to The Miami Herald. She was assigned to the police beat full-time in 1973. As an

up-and-coming reporter, Buchanan saw Gene Miller's attention to detail, discipline and

creativity lead to his second Pulitzer Prize in 1976 and the acquittal of Wilbert Lee and

Freddie Pitts from a wrongful death sentence conviction in 1963. While the police beat

serves most reporters as a starting point, Buchanan would continue to cover the crimes,

both common and bizarre, of Miami for the remainder of her tenure at the Herald.

No other writer of the period at the Herald is better known for using literary

description for hard-news stories. In "Bank robbers flee after terrorizing customers" from

1985, Buchanan writes:

Two gun-waving stick-up men herded terrified employees, customers and a guard
into a washroom Friday and cleaned out a Northwest section bank in broad
daylight.
The gunmen escaped, lugging away the loot in trash bags.
The bank robbers wore Metrorail uniforms, said Metro-Dade police and
the FBI.
The Village Bank, at 7220 NW 72nd Ave., is across from the huge main
storage and maintenance facility for Metrorail.
At 10 a.m. the robbers, clad in the brown trousers and the tan shirts, with
the shoulder patch insignia, of Metrorail maintenance workers, walked into the
bank. One wore a baseball cap and brandished a nickel-plated revolver. The other
gunman's weapon was blue steel. They confronted the guard, marched six
employees and two customers into a back washroom and forced them to lie on the
floor.
A bank employee, a gun at his head, was forced to open the safe for the
robbers, who also emptied the tellers' drawers. They left the coins behind.
(Buchanan, 1985a)









Buchanan includes all of the information from a typical crime story but takes it

several steps further with fantastic detail and word choice. Readers understand where the

event occurred but also the circumstances that led to the robbery it was pay day for

Dade County and the bank "had big bucks on hand (Buchanan, 1985a)." Buchanan was

fortunate to have editors like Miller who appreciated subtle details and creative writing

that make crime stories fun to read while keeping them factual and informative.

Buchanan also shows panache in sliding colorful description into the flow of information

without wasting space. She also throws in a fantastic play on words with minor

alliteration, having the robbers move witnesses into a washroom, cleaning out the bank

and lugging the loot in trash bags. This piece serves as a perfect example that creative,

fun writing and adherence to journalistic ethics are not mutually exclusive. Buchanan

says of her eye for detail: "I want to know everything. When the bullet comes through the

window, what was on the TV? I always want to know the dog's name and the cat's name.

I get really curious when I go to the morgue. I want to know all their stories. I'm not sure

why (cited in Finkel, 1985)."

And Miami provided Buchanan with a near endless of supply of crime, ranging

from the mundane to the bizarre. Buchanan says of Miami's proclivity for oddity:

Even when Miami was this sleepy resort town that was closed half the year, there
was strange and exotic stuff going on. I think it's because there's no place left to
run for people who come down here to escape something, whether it's the weather
or the law. Maybe that's why they go crazy around here. Because they find there's
no place left to go. This is the jumping-off point. (cited in Seymour, 1991, p. 28)

Perhaps Buchanan's most bizarre story came from a 1985 murder:

A naked man carrying the severed head of a woman was found leaning against a
Metrorail support at dawn Saturday in a quiet southwest Miami neighborhood.
The man twice hurled the woman's head at the young police officer who
approached him.
"I killed her. She's the devil!" the man shouted.









"There is no end to the bizarreness of this world," veteran Miami Homicide
Sgt. Mike Gonzalez said later.
"This is something not likely to happen to any policeman again in 100
years."
Dina Tormos, 18, had been stabbed "many" times with a large hunting type
knife, which also was used to cut off her head, police said.
The rest of the murdered woman's body was found in the suspect's
apartment, several blocks from where he was arrested at Southwest 33rd Avenue
and 29th Terrace, just off U.S. 1.
The suspect, Alberto Mesa, 23, was charged with first-degree murder.
Hysterical and distraught, he was taken to the prison ward at Jackson Memorial
Hospital and sedated. (Buchanan, 1985b)

After covering thousands of murders from the police beat at the Herald, Buchanan

still wrote with purpose. Many stories, like the above, are quite graphic. If the story only

described the death of an 18-year-old female who had been decapitated, a reader

wouldn't take away anything as to the nature of this crime or how it came about. Many

editors try to remove details that could horrify readers, but Buchanan believes a

successful crime story should cause a man eating breakfast with his wife to "spit out his

coffee, clutch his chest and say, 'My God, Martha! Did you read this!' (cited in Trillin,

1986)"

Critics may argue that many of the details of a murder do not need to be included to

convey the information of the event to readers and that inclusion is purely intended to

create sensationalism. Although Buchanan may appear numb or unfeeling to the deaths

she writes about, she always took the time to contact the next of kin for a few words

about the deceased. Of including a family statement, Buchanan says, "For some people,

it's like catharsis. They want to talk about the kind of person their husband was, or their

father. Also, it's probably the only time his name is going to be in the paper. It's their last

shot. They want to give him a good sendoff (Trillin, 1986)."









Dealing with such graphic violence every day must wear on a person. Buchanan is

able to compartmentalize but admits sometimes it catches up to her. Buchanan says:

Every once in a while, I feel burned out, that I'm going to start screaming, that I
can't stand one more tragedy. What helps me is to go to the beach and see the
ocean and sky. Then I can psych myself out of it. I say to myself, "It's better than
working in a coat factory in Paterson, N.J." (cited in Finkel, 1985).

Buchanan's versatility, quality and creativity in covering the police beat won her

the 1986 Pulitzer Prize for General News Reporting. She covered the recovery of items

from a high-society burglar police had been tracking over four years. Buchanan closes the

story by writing, "A crystal box full of seed pearls and tiny turquoise beads must have

belonged to somebody's grandmother. A valuable framed miniature of an Indian couple

engaged in something from the [Kama] Sutra probably did not (Buchanan, 1985d)." She

wrote about a 14- to 16-year-old girl shooting a man in front of a movie theater for

talking to her (Buchanan, 1985g) and about a 2-year-old boy wounded in the crossfire of

an apartment complex shootout (Buchanan, 1985e).

Her most powerful story from 1985 is "Dad pays last visit to slain daughter."

Buchanan begins:

Handcuffed and weeping, Charles Griffith saw his 3-year-old daughter, Joy, for the
last time Sunday.
The brief goodbye at Van Orsdel Funeral Chapel was permitted by order of
a Circuit Court judge. Light rain fell and a thunderstorm threatened as armed police
and uniformed corrections officers led Griffith into the chapel. Ten minutes later, as
the storm broke into a deluge, they took him back to his Dade County Jail cell.
He was crying and saying, "My God, my God, my God."
Griffith, 25, fired two bullets into his little girl's heart as she lay comatose
in her crib in the special care nursery at Miami Children's Hospital on Friday night.
Joy had been there since Oct. 23, the day she was irreversibly brain-
damaged in a freak accident. As she climbed into a reclining chair to watch
cartoons, she was caught by the footrest. It closed on her neck. She was not
breathing and had no heartbeat when her mother found her.
Paramedics restored her breathing, but she remained in a coma.









Her ordeal and her short life ended, Joy lay in a tiny coffin Sunday, clad in
a pink nightgown. Her father wore the same clothes he had on when he was
arrested.
"He's still confused," said Griffith's attorney, Roy Black. "Every time he
discusses the case, he breaks up crying. It's a tragedy of Shakespearean
proportions.
Certain that his only child was aware and suffering, Griffith said he could
no longer endure her pain.
"I miss her more than anything," he said Saturday. "Part of my heart is
gone, but at the same time, I'm glad she's at peace. (Buchanan, 1985f)

Police charged Griffith with first-degree murder, using a prior statement that Griffith had

said his daughter was better off dead as evidence of premeditation. The judge denied

bond but did grant the uncommon request to allow Griffith attended his daughter's

funeral. Buchanan continues:

Before the accident, Joy was a bright and beautiful 2-year-old blond with eyes her
father described as "filled with angel dust. Her eyes were blue, with little flecks of
light in them," Griffith said.
By age 2, she spoke both Spanish and English. "Every morning she would
say, 'Goooood morning, Daddy.' And I'd say, 'Joy, why are you so pretty?' and
she'd say, 'Because I look like my daddy.'"
At his tiny South Beach apartment, the centerpiece, a 10-by-12-inch oil
portrait of Joy, is surrounded by hundreds of family photos of the child.
Before going to bed each night, Joy would place her favorite toy dog on her
father's bed, cover it with a blanket and say, "Nighty night."
"It's still there, on my bed, with a blanket over it," Griffith said.
On her third birthday, April 4, Joy was five months into her coma, her
father donned clown makeup and took balloons, presents and a birthday cake to her
bedside. He held her limp wrist to cut the cake.
On Friday night, in the nursery, he sang Daddy 's Girl to her. (Buchanan,
1985f)

The day after Charles Griffith ended his daughter's life, Buchanan met with a street

preacher, one of the few people who knew Griffith. The preacher escorted her to

Griffith's workplace, a porno theater. In the projection booth, 13 photographs of Joy

Griffith were taped to the wall. Looking at the pictures, the preacher told Buchanan he

was going to visit Griffith in jail. Buchanan gave him her phone number, and asked him









to pass it along. Later that day her phone ring, and Charles Griffith gave Edna Buchanan

his story, a story about a horrible accident and the unbearable pain of watching your

daughter lie in a coma for five months with little chance of ever making a recovery.

Buchanan was the one reporter to get the story, and it ran front page the next day (Finkel,

1985).

Regardless of a reader's personal morality concerning euthanasia, Buchanan

certainly makes the father a sympathetic character. And more importantly, she shows the

reader Griffith's love for his daughter through his actions instead of relying on a quote,

which would struggle to achieve emotional impact. The little girl, Joy, has a personality

in this story, even though she was only two years old when the accident occurred.

Conversely to the story of a young girl killed in a tragic accident, Buchanan wrote

about a five-year-old boy who could face a murder charge. In "Boy, 5, admits to pushing

tot to his death," Buchanan writes:

A smiling 5-year-old boy calmly confessed to police Sunday night that he
deliberately pushed a 3-year-old playmate five floors to his death at a Miami Beach
bay-front condominium.
The boy's story shocked detectives.
"He doesn't think he did anything wrong," Miami Beach detective Robert
Davis said. "He claims that the 3-year-old was complaining that his parents beat
him and said he wanted to die so he obliged.
"He said he pushed him. He watched him fall. He heard him scream when
he hit the ground and then he went for help," Davis said. "It's horrendous. He
doesn't show any remorse."
Lazaro Gonzalez Jr., a husky 70-pound preschooler, ate two slices of pizza,
a garlic roll and a banana after he confessed. (Buchanan, 1986)

Former managing editor Pete Weitzel says that Gene Miller helped push Buchanan

into the running for the Pulitzer Prize in 1986. Miller was not only Buchanan's mentor

and friend, but as she said at Miller's funeral, the only editor she ever trusted (Weitzel,

interview, 2005). Weitzel says of their relationship and her Pulitzer entry:









It's with Gene's help, and rightly so, that Edna was one of the great police reporters
in the country. There had been a handful of others, but she certainly was one of the
best and deserved some recognition. So the question was what and how. He had a
very close, personal relationship with Calvin Trillin. And he talked Calvin into
doing a profile in the New Yorker Magazine on Edna. That profile ran in February
of the year she won the Pulitzer Prize. There's no question in my mind it had an
influence. (Weitzel, interview, 2005).

Trillin's profile of Buchanan certainly put her in the spotlight and would make her

name instantly recognizable with Pulitzer judges. Miller knew ahead of time that the

profile would be running just before the Pulitzer competition and saw the opportunity to

have Buchanan recognized. Weitzel recalls:

Gene came to me and said, "This is the year to submit Edna for the Pulitzer." We
helped pull together the entry, select the pieces we submitted [most of which ran
during 1985], and I helped him write the letter. So, in fact, he orchestrated the
submission and provided that, in knowing that this article that he talked Calvin into
writing was going to appear, that this was a good time to do it. And he was right.
(Weitzel, interview, 2005)

Edna Buchanan, through the support of editors like Gene Miller, was able to tell

compelling stories from the police beat that describe the people involved instead of just a

profile pulled from the police report. She uses varied sentence structure, cops-and-

robbers cliches and descriptions garnered through first-hand observation. Her writing also

stands out for recollection of tiny details that would later serve her as a successful

mystery novelist. Most of her books involve the heroine Britt Montero, the police-beat

reporter for a fictitious Miami newspaper.














CHAPTER 6
GENE MILLER AND NEWSROOM CULTURE

Although Carl Hiaasen, Edna Buchanan and numerous other writers that passed

through the doors of The Miami Herald were blessed with natural talent, it is undeniable

that Gene Miller's tenure at the paper had a tremendous influence on the newsroom

culture and the development of young writers. Miller and Pete Weitzel both came to the

Herald in the 1950s, to a newsroom already focused on innovative and provocative

writing. Weitzel recalls:

The paper went out and hired talented people that were ambitious and wanted to
grow. I don't think anyone wanted to put hats on people. We wanted to see what
we could do and how far we could go and how good we could be. I think that
pervaded the newspaper. It was the culture I grew up in journalistically. And it was
one that Gene not only grew up in but helped foster. (Weitzel, interview, 2005)

The preexisting newsroom culture of intellectual diversity helped Miller get hired

despite reservations by some of the staff, including Al Neuharth. Neuharth was the

assistant managing editor of the Herald at the time and went on to found USA Today, the

first national daily newspaper. Miller was hired despite his feisty nature and

outspokenness. John McMullen, the city editor, championed Miller. Weitzel says, "Al

had been sort of turned off by Gene's brashness at the time. But there was a spirit at the

Herald that said no, we want those kinds of people. We want those people who will

challenge us (Weitzel, interview, 2005)."

Miller challenged himself and other Herald staff for 48 years before his death by

cancer in 2005. He strived not only to write to the best of his abilities but wanted to see

all great stories told in a compelling way to grab readers. Weitzel remembers watching









Miller as a young editor help bring out the best in C.G. Burning, the long-standing

courthouse reporter:

He had unbelievable sources, but he couldn't write worth a damn. Literally what
happened at five o'clock in the afternoon or so, C.G. would come, sit down, and
you'd see him and Gene conferring. If it was an ordinary story, C.G. could write it.
But if it was something really good, Gene would kind of debrief it and help him
write it or rewrite it. By the time it got to the desk, with sized byline on it, it was a
terrific piece of copy. It had been totally Millerized. And he would take no credit
for it. But it was a good story, and he wanted a good story to be in the paper.
(Weitzel, interview, 2005)

Miller helped many young writers tell compelling stories in different ways. He

aided Edna Buchanan, his protege, with her writing and saw her good stories made it

through the editorial process and into the newspaper. His position as an editor evolved

from being a senior reporter in the newsroom, a de facto editor for young reporters

working on special stories, and his love for a great story.

One of Buchanan's most famous articles passed through the desk and into print

because of Miller. Weitzel recalls Buchanan's concern that her lead of "Gary Robinson

died hungry" would be rewritten at the copy desk:

She had written the lead that way and was afraid it wouldn't clear the desk, and she
showed it to Gene and he said he liked it. So, he walked up and said something to
the editor on the desk about how Edna has a great story. When she turned it in it
just went right on through. (Weitzel, interview, 2005)

One of the editors involved later told Weitzel that keeping Edna's lead was heavily

debated. To put the decision into context, there recently had been several incidents where

unlicensed security guards had drawn weapons and killed people. In "Security guard held

for slaying man in restaurant ruckus," Buchanan begins:

Gary Robinson died hungry.
He had a taste for Church's fried chicken. He wanted the three-piece box for
$2.19, plus tax.
Instead he got three bullets from a security guard who shot him when he
ran. Police jailed the guard on a murder charge.









Robinson, 32, walked into Church's, at 2701 NW 54th St., on last Sunday at
11:45 p.m., 15 minutes before closing time. An ex-convict with an extensive arrest
record, Robinson lived nearby, at 2905 NW 55th St. (Buchanan, 1985c)

Robinson, who witnesses say was intoxicated, shoved his way to the front of the

line, swearing along the way. A young woman behind the counter asked him to wait like

all of the other customers. Robinson made his way through line and tried to place an

order just before the midnight closing. No more chicken. Offered chicken nuggets as a

consolation, Robinson punched the woman in the face and ran out the door. James

Derrick Blash, the licensed security guard on duty, and several employees chased

Robinson. Buchanan continues:

The guard shouted "quite a few" warnings at Robinson, ordering him to halt,
[Detective John Butchko] said. Robinson did not stop running.
"So eventually the guard shot him," Butchko said. The first shot from the
guard's .38-caliber revolver hit Robinson in the back of the leg, the detective said.
The final shots were fired from about five or six feet away, according to the
police. Robinson, critically wounded, was taken to Jackson Memorial Hospital.
"It was probably poor judgment," Butchko said. "He was just trying to stop
the guy."
Immediately after the shooting, police say the distraught guard anxiously
asked several people, "Did I do the right thing?"
"They agreed that he did to make him feel better. He's a very nice guy,"
said Butchko, who arrested him. "He isn't a bad man, but he committed the crime."
Blash was initially charged with aggravated battery. Robinson died two
days later. The guard, who had been released in his own recognizance, was re-
arrested on a second-degree murder charge. He has been denied bond. (Buchanan,
1985c)

On face value, Buchanan had a terrific lead. However, when placed in the context

of other similar shootings being talked about within the community, a traditional lead

describing a security guard killing a man might be deemed more appropriate. Weitzel

says, "I don't think there's any questioning that Gene's coming up and saying he thought

it was a great lead convinced them not to change it. No question that his influence had an









effect on it. It was a great lead, and it was a lead that was eventually a [Pulitzer] prize

winner (Weitzel, interview, 2005)."

Gene Miller's love for great stories and the Herald's organizational structure

helped the paper cultivate talented writers into award-winning journalists. Weitzel

recalls:

Our development of the Neighbors section in the late 70s and 80s, the suburban
sections around the greater Miami area allowed [the recruiters] to bring in very
young people and train them and develop them in an aggressive reporting mold. All
that helped. The paper was growing at the time, and I think that makes a difference.
(Weitzel, interview, 2005)

Weitzel says he saw these other sections and offices as an opportunity, a training

ground to bring along talented writers. The system allowed promotion opportunities

within the same organization and allowed the staff to watch young writers develop over

time. Weitzel continues:

We began to use that really as a way to, more effectively than we had in the past I
think, to reach out and bring in some really good people and use it as a training and
development opportunity. Some of the folks who came through the bureau system
and the Neighbors system, turned out to be damn good journalists that if we hadn't
had [the system] wouldn't have had. (Weitzel, interview, 2005)

In addition to mentoring young writers, Miller also helped find and bring new

talent to the Herald. Weitzel, as either the assistant managing editor or deputy managing

editor, was placed in charge of intern-recruiting trips. Miller became his regular

companion on the trips for the next decade (Weitzel, interview, 2005).

The Herald focused not just on recruitment but on having a viable and reasonable

progression path for young writers to hone their skills and become great journalists.

Without this focus and the positions to allow it to happen, advancement often means

moving to another newspaper. Weitzel says that a newspaper not only employs its

reporters but should push and educate them:






44


Management has to allow the people to be creative. You have to allow people to
make mistakes. And then you have to try to set up, in the editing process, you try to
set up the mechanism so that those mistakes never get in the paper. But you want to
push people both from a reporting standpoint and a writing standpoint to do what
they can to experiment, to try things, to learn. (Weitzel, interview, 2005)














CHAPTER 7
AFTER THE MERGER

The Miami Herald in the 1980s rose to prominence on the backs of a gifted,

talented and dedicated editorial staff. Not only was the Herald a fun and educational

place to work for young journalists, but industry critics acknowledged the skill employed

by bestowing six Pulitzer Prizes on the staff. Six Pulitzers in the 80s marks a significant

change in industry stature after receiving a single Pulitzer in each of the previous three

decades. Gene Miller, winner of two of the three original Herald Pulitzers, was a

seasoned veteran of in-depth reporting and investigations that also served as a de facto

editor and recruiter for much of the paper's young talent.

Carl Hiaasen and Edna Buchanan are perhaps the two most important young

writers groomed by Gene Miller and other seasoned Herald staff members. This includes

Bill Montalbano, with whom Hiaasen would co-author his first three novels; Pete

Weitzel, former managing editor and recruiter; and Jim Savage, leader of the

investigations team that Hiaasen was a part of before transitioning to a news columnist.

Dave Barry became one of the most famous humor columnists in the country, winning a

Pulitzer in 1988, during his career at the Herald from 1983 until a hiatus at the end of

2004. More than 90 former Herald newsroom staff reporters, photographers and editors

were in the newsroom of the Washington Post in 2004. There were dozens more at The

New York Times (Hirsch, interview, 2004).

In 1974, Knight Newspapers, Inc. and Ridder Publications, Inc. merged to become

the largest newspaper company in America in terms of total circulation. Both companies









had been publicly traded since the 1960s and had solid stock-value history, but the two

had very different perspectives on the role of newspapers. Knight Newspapers had a

strong culture of journalism first and a clear separation of the editorial and business sides

of a paper. Ridder, on the other hand, was well-regarded for effective business but often

indifferent to the content. The merger hoped to blend Knight's journalism and Ridder's

business savvy to the benefit of all the encompassed newspapers (Merritt, 2005).

Following the Knight Ridder merger, the corporate mentality originally called for

"strengthening the papers journalistically (Merritt, 2005, p. 59)." Although obviously

headquartered in the City of Miami, the Herald also had state bureaus in Key West,

Broward County, Palm Beach and further up the east coast of Florida in Martin County

Vero Beach and Cape Canaveral, as well as in the state capital of Tallahassee. Rookie

journalists were hired into the Neighbors offices for Dade County, now named Miami-

Dade County. Rick Hirsch, who originally came to the Herald in 1980 and now serves as

Managing Editor for Multimedia and New Projects, uses a baseball analogy to describe

the hierarchy of advancement at the paper during the 80s:

At that time, Neighbors was Single-A ball, and then there was the state [bureau]
system. So, you'd get hired in the Herald and you'd work in the Neighbors
sections. And if you were successful after a year or two, you hoped to get promoted
to one of the state bureaus. And then going to Miami on the City Desk was really
the promise land. (Hirsch, interview, 2004)

Hirsch says the Herald's bureau system contributed to the overall talent pool by

allowing the paper to develop its own talent by offering young journalists more

opportunities to advance within the same organization (Hirsch, interview, 2004).

Unfortunately, the bureaus began closing in the late 80s, with the rest shut down in the

90s, as a casualty of profit margin. While the Herald staff located throughout the state did

quality, local coverage, the advertising revenue gained could not justify the cost of









printing and delivering a paper more than a hundred miles away from the Herald.

Advertisers in the primary distribution area of the paper did not want to pay for the

inflated circulation figures that included many readers out of range and unable to

consume the goods and services advertised. This was also true for classified

advertisements which were too expensive for residents of the bureau editions to buy, and

the majority of listings were for the Miami area and not usable by bureau-area residents

(Hirsch, interview, 2004).

After closing the bureaus, the Herald lost some of its ability to retain young talent

because the options for upward mobility were decreasing. Although this paper does not

focus on the newsroom structure and change, it seems logical that fewer opportunities to

advance vertically within the Herald caused many talented, young journalists to leave for

larger papers, including the Washington Post and the Times, before attaining journalistic

prominence. Cal Fussman, an alumnus of the Herald bureau system and current writer for

Esquire, says, "No other newspaper in the country had so many great people leave

(Fussman, interview, 2004)."

David Lawrence, Jr. served as the publisher of the Herald from 1989 to 1999,

steering the ship through a decade that saw massive media consolidation and a stronger

industry focus on profit margins and the value of stock in publicly traded newspaper

companies. Lawrence says, "By the time I reached the Herald in 1989, there already were

significant indicators of a much tougher competitive and economic climate. Having said

that, the paper remained quite profitable and, in fact, remains so" (Lawrence, interview,

2005).









Lawrence rose through the Knight Newspapers chain as a reporter and editor

before being hired as the managing editor of the Philadelphia Daily News in 1971. He

moved to The Charlotte Observer as editor following the Knight Ridder merger. Before

coming to Miami, he had served as the publisher of the Detroit Free Press. Lawrence

was in the minority of publishers who were trained as journalists, not through the

business side of newspapers (Merritt, 2005, p. 186). Arriving at the Herald, Lawrence

understood the needs of the newsroom and the non-traditional writing techniques,

including the Miller Chop, many staff writers incorporated in daily newspaper writings.

Lawrence describes his outlook concerning literary news writing:

Like most in newspaper journalism, I learned the inverted pyramid way of doing
things as a young reporter and the crucial nature of who, what, when, where, why
and how. Those lessons serve well in any form of journalism. But story-telling is
crucial and there are some stories that ought to be told in other, more compelling
ways. What we sought to do is give readers the facts and context so they could
make up their own minds in this democracy, but we also sought to tell these stories
in different ways. We thought we had not only the obligation to tell readers and
citizens the problems of society but also some potential solutions they could ponder
and then decide for themselves. Reporters must begin with the basics; the more
seasoned reporters will be able to try other writing styles effectively. It is all about
reaching the reader. (Lawrence, interview, 2005)

Davis Merritt, in his book Knightfall (Merritt, 2005), describes his first-hand

account of the marriage between Knight Newspapers tradition of quality journalism with

Ridder Publications' business savvy. Traditional ethos of newspaper journalism as

serving the public good was the casualty to serving the business interests of Wall Street

and stock owners. In a 2004 letter to Merritt, Lawrence recalls becoming uneasy in 1995

in regards to economic pressures that already existed but were increasing. Lawrence

writes:

But until the mid-nineties, the company was, I believe, quite successful in
achieving a balance between business and news. That balancing act was clear in the
decisions over the years to pair a CEO with someone of different emphasis, Lee









Hills, Jim Batten, and so forth. Only in recent years have the two most visible
people in the company been businesspeople and not journalists.... The business
ethos became the paramount driver from the mid-nineties on. The balance is gone.
(cited in Merritt, 2005, p. 187)

Merritt details and criticizes what he sees as a fundamental shift in the outlook of

newspaper owners. Instead of newspapers being an important business for the public

good that also can be quite profitable, the business of newspapers is being undertaken as

a good way to make money, which Merritt sees as no different than manufacturing coat

hangers. Marketability and competition dictate what level of quality yields the highest

rate of return (Merritt, 2005, pp. 14-15). In a business that innately brings high profits,

constant demand for increasing profits make it difficult to maintain a newsroom staff

capable of creating quality journalism. Lawrence recalls demands from corporate

leadership:

It was a constant tussle. I respected the need to make a profit, though I might
disagree with corporate as to how profitable we needed to be, because that profit
pays for the good journalism and keeps one free. But I cannot deny the constant
pressure of a big public company, with big appetites for profits, frequently
colliding with my own appetite for enough space and staff to do the journalism
mission well. (Lawrence, interview, 2005)

Lawrence says constant, destructive pressures to make cuts in order to meet

increasing profit-margin goals were not directed and created an unhealthy, "permanently

unsettled staff." In 1998, Lawrence says, "I was being asked to get to 25 percent

[operating return] over three years, and that would have meant cutting 185 positions. I

just couldn't do this cutting any more and live with myself' (cited in Merritt, 2005, p.

187). Lawrence resigned.

Near the time of his resignation, there was talk that Lawrence might run to be

governor of Florida. According to Pete Weitzel, Lawrence was near his breaking point at

the Herald when the talk began. Lawrence perhaps was flattered by the notion and didn't









turn down the idea at first mention, something the publisher of a newspaper should do

because of the tremendous conflict of interests between political aspirations and

newspaper management. Although Lawrence's delayed refusal of running was

inappropriate for a publisher, it had nothing to do with his imminent resignation (Weitzel,

interview, 2005).

In 2002, Hiaasen released Basket Case, his first novel told as a first-person

narrative and also his first novel to feature a journalist as the lead character (Hiaasen,

2002a). Hiaasen's main character, Jack Tagger, was once an investigative reporter before

embarrassing the "soulless, profit-hungry owner of the newspaper" at a stockholders'

meeting (Hiaasen, website, 2002b). Throughout the book, Hiaasen opines the nature of

journalism and what it has become through the manipulation of the business side of news

organizations. Hiaasen's advice to the corporate leadership of newspapers:

Don't step foot in a newsroom, don't send any memos to a newsroom. Fight over
the budget but don't pretend to know anything about journalism. They know
nothing about journalism. They know what their shareholdings are at any given
hour. Today's newspapers are edited for Wall Street, for the stockholders. They're
not edited for readers. They're edited to get the maximum profit out of them, not to
deliver the maximum amount of essential information to a community or
neighborhood. That's the last thing they're interested in doing because that's what
costs the most money.

You have to get the little vermin in the suits back on the country club. Get them out
on the golf course and keep them away from the newsroom. That's the first thing
you have to do, and that's not going to be any easy thing to do. But if they were
interested in making newspapers more interesting and therefore different from what
everyone else is doing, and a better product in their work, then they would just start
to leave the newsrooms alone and let the editors and reporters decide what's best
for those communities and to take some chances and to do some creative things.
That's a very tough thing.

They don't want to leave their hands off. The money is too important now that the
newspaper business is in such trouble that they're becoming more meddlesome
instead of less meddlesome. There used to be a very distinct and unbreachable
barrier between the business side of journalism and the journalistic side of
journalism.









When I was in that newsroom in the Herald starting out, I couldn't tell you what the
stock price was, and I couldn't tell you what our monthly circulation figures were. I
couldn't tell you whether we were above budget or below budget or what the profit
margin of Knight Ridder was going to be for the coming year. All of that
information in not only polluting the newsroom now, it's being shoved into the
faces of most reporters and editors. We're not making budget, we're not making
projections, we're not making the numbers. And ever since that's happened,
numbers are falling.

Every experiment that has ever been done where you burden the journalist with this
kind of information has backfired economically for these corporations. They
haven't figured it out yet. And they won't until it's too late I'm sure. (Hiaasen,
interview, 2005)

Hiaasen thinks for newspapers to have a chance at survival competing with the

Internet and television news, newspapers must focus on depth reporting requiring a

literary style of writing (Hiaasen, interview, 2005). Communication and delivery

technologies fundamentally have changed the nature of newspapers. Newspapers now

will rarely be in a position to break spot news stories. A 24-hour news channel or a blog

or an electronic wire service broke it hours ago. Newsrooms still have a distinct

advantage over other media outlets in terms of information gathering. Newspapers should

no longer be concerned with breaking news. Instead, reporters and editors should play to

their strengths to create in-depth pieces relaying the context and significance of issues

and news events to its readers.

Newspapers are not traditional businesses and should not be run as businesses with

profit serving as the overriding indicator of success. Demand for profit margin creates

cutbacks. Small staff size reduces the breadth and depth of news coverage. Consumers

receive news faster and cheaper through television and Internet news sources. If

newspaper coverage is stripped down to merely detailing events and horse race political

coverage, no new information will arrive on a consumer's lawn that has not been

broadcast or released through more immediate mediums. Hiaasen concludes:






52


You go back to your numbers and you go back to your salesman, and you sell a lot
more ads. We'll put a lot more good stuff in the paper. We'll put stuff in the paper
that readers can't get anywhere else and you'll sell some newspapers. But they
don't want to do that. They just want to recycle, and they're paying a big price.
(Hiaasen, interview, 2005).













CHAPTER 8
CONCLUSIONS

This thesis examined The Miami Herald as an established newspaper that employed

literary writing styles and elements in daily newspaper writing. The 1980s originally was

selected as the primary focus of this case study because this was the decade when Carl

Hiaasen, Edna Buchanan and Dave Barry rose to fame both within the industry and with

readers around the nation. As I conducted interviews and analyzed texts, this time period

became more important not just to the Herald as an individual newspaper but also for

insight as to ingredients that can create a healthy, capable and award-winning newsroom

as well as cause the quality of journalism to fall.

Literary writing in newspapers can be traced back to Samuel Clemens, also known

as Mark Twain, and the staff of the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise in the 1860s.

Although criticized at the time, literary elements and first-person narrative would become

commonplace in news writing toward the end of the century, culminating in the battle

between Hearst and Pulitzer. The Yellow Journalism that allegedly started the Spanish-

American War was abandoned during the first World War in favor of strict objectivity.

Fueled by the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement and later Watergate, journalism

had renewed purpose. The New Journalism of New York during the 1960s and 70s used

literary techniques and different narrative styles to seek and report truth to readers.

Although literary journalism of the time, and the New Journalism in particular, was used

almost entirely in magazine writing, the work of Tom Wolfe, Hunter Thompson, Gay









Talese, Esquire, Rolling Stone and others from this period influenced a generation of

journalists.

Gene Miller came to the Herald in 1957 and honed his investigative and writing

abilities to win Pulitzer Prizes in 1967 and 1976. Having received two of the three

Pulitzers in the history of the Herald to that point, Miller had creative freedom from most

editorial control. Buchanan and Hiaasen, while being born with writing talent, were

fortunate to have a mentor that had a history with the Herald and was virtually free from

the criticism of most editors. Miller served as a de facto editor and not only allowed but

encouraged creative writing, while still maintaining a strict stance on getting the facts

straight and incorporating details to inform the reader. Pete Weitzel shared Miller's

emphasis on creativity. As managing editor, Weitzel could have put the brakes on literary

writing if he had chosen to. Hiaasen and Buchanan honed their researching and

investigation skills while being pushed to tell compelling stories because they did not

have to write for bad, self-conscious editors. Good editors can accept when reporters

write better than themselves and still push the reporters to excel. Bad editors are

intimidated by good writing, especially when a literary theme is used, and want to be

given copy that sticks to facts without color or style.

In addition to established, quality editors, the Herald also had an organizational

structure that allowed young talent to advance through its bureau system instead of

having to leave for another paper in order to receive a promotion. Unfortunately, business

concerns led to the deconstruction of the bureau system by the mid 1990s, making it

harder for young staff to stay at the Herald and hone their craft by working with a

consistent team of editors for many years.









The fast climb in stature and industry recognition of The Miami Herald, including a

record six Pulitzers during the 1980s, stalled and receded during the late 1990s amid

corporate pressure for higher profit margins. Journalism, and newspaper journalism in

particular, is not a traditional business. Simply put, the profit margin in creating a product

is a balancing act between the cost of creating the product, the level of quality desired in

the product and the price the consumer is willing to pay for the product. A traditional

business model should not be applied to running a newspaper company because the

quality of information and how that information can create a more informed citizenry

should override the desire to maximize profits.

For a business to exist, it must make a profit. And this certainly holds true for

newspapers. However, newspapers have among the highest profit margins of any

industry. Knight Ridder newspapers received 38 Pulitzer Prizes from 1980 to 1993,

including three Gold Medals for Public Service with profits in the low teens. As

operating return rose to more than 20 percent from 1994 to 2003, Knight Ridder only

received nine Pulitzers (Merritt, 2005, p. 165). As focus on profit increased, the quality of

journalism decreased, using the number of Pulitzers as an indicator of quality. Knight

Ridder newspapers went from receiving almost three Pulitzers a year to less than one.

While earning a profit is essential to running a business, acceptable margins in

newspapers should be balanced with doing quality journalism and informing the public

and not driven by the price of a publicly traded stock.

Newspapers no longer serve as a primary source for information consumers. Both

Internet news sites and television news channels are faster and allow for better visuals.

Newspapers continue to have, despite staff reductions, a marketable advantage for









providing in-depth reporting, context and significance to the public. With circulation

figures consistently falling, newspapers should be playing to the strengths of the medium

instead of cutting costs and trying to duplicate other news sources with little chance of

breaking superficial stories.

The Miami Herald in the 1980s stands apart as a newspaper having editors that

motivated and encouraged, quality reporters who told compelling stories, and an

organizational culture that recognized the quality of journalism as the primary indicator

of a successful newspaper. Other newspapers during this time period may have had

common elements and undergone similar business transitions to the Herald. However,

the Herald situation is unique in that the paper had such a dramatic increase in industry

prestige and award recognition in such a short time.

Although this thesis examines the relationship between a particular group of writers

and editors, further research should examine the role of editor as motivator and mentor.

The process of editing is essential to create a compelling finished process. The attitudes

and styles of editors could be found to be nearly as influential in the writing styles used

as the creativity of the writers themselves.

Media consolidation, and the resulting profit-driven corporate leadership, makes it

doubtful to see a time when quality and public service will be the primary focus of

newspaper companies.

Because this thesis examined factors related to The Miami Herald, the findings and

my resulting qualitative theory as to why the Herald rose to prominence should not be

taken as a generalizable formula for success. Tracking the quality of journalism for this

specific newspaper was based almost entirely on the number of Pulitzer Prizes awarded.






57


While Pulitzers do serve as an accepted indicator of quality in journalism, further

research needs to be conducted. Quality is subjective and therefore usually relegated to

qualitative research. Research quantifying quality and relating a quality indicator to profit

margin could help determine an optimal operating return for newspapers. While this

quality indicator might be difficult to create due to many variables, it could help

newspapers do unique and informative journalism while still making newspapers

profitable enough to satisfy corporate and business interests.
















LIST OF REFERENCES

Bowman, D. (2000, January 31). My lunch with: Carl Hiaasen. Salon.com.

Bridges, J. A. (1989). News use on the front pages of the American daily. Journalism
Quarterly, 66(2), 332-337.

Buchanan, E. (1985a, February 2). Bank robbers flee after terrorizing customers. The
Miami Herald, p. IB.

Buchanan, E. (1985b, March 3). Nude man found with cutoff head. The Miami Herald,
p. IB.

Buchanan, E. (1985c, March 17). Security guard held for slaying man in restaurant
ruckus. The Miami Herald, pp. 1B, 7B.

Buchanan, E. (1985d, April 4). Theft victims find display very rewarding. The Miami
Herald, pp. 1B, 2B.

Buchanan, E. (1985e, May 3). Gun battle kills two, critically hurts toddler. The Miami
Herald, p. lB.

Buchanan, E. (1985f, July 1). Dad pays last visit to slain daughter. The Miami Herald,
pp. 1B, 3B.

Buchanan, E. (1985g, September 2). Teenager shoots man at movie theater. The Miami
Herald, p. lB.

Buchanan, E. (1985h, December 2). Killer almost trapped at scene of murder. The Miami
Herald, p. lB.

Buchanan, E. (1986, March 3). Boy, 5, admits pushing tot to his death. The Miami
Herald, pp. 1A, 5A.

Buschini, J. (2000). The Spanish-American War.
http://www.smplanet.com/imperialism/remember.html, last accessed Dec. 4, 2004.

Craig, P. (1992, December 3). Carl Hiaasen sticks it to folks who have paradise.
Sacramento Bee, p. SC1.

Creswell, J. (1998). Qualitative inquiry and research design: Choosing among five
traditions. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.






59


Driscoll, A. (2005). The McDuffie Riots: 20 years later. The Miami Herald.
http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/news/special_packages/archive/ 1650356
.htm, last accessed Aug. 1, 2005.

Finkel, D. (1985, July 14). Meet Edna Buchanan, the dean of cop reporters. St.
Petersburg Times, pp. 1B, 4B.

Flippen, C. C. (Ed.). (1974). Liberating the Media: The New Journalism. Washington,
DC: Acropolis Books.

Fussman, C. (2004). Interview by author. July, 28. Ponte Vedra, Fla.

Glaser, B. & Strauss, A. (1967). The discovery of grounded theory. Chicago, IL: Aldine.

Greenlee, W. (1997). Symptom of the state: Carl Hiaasen and satire. University of
Florida, Gainesville.

Guba, E. G. & Lincoln, Y. S. (1998) Competing paradigms in qualitative research, in
Denzin, N. & Lincoln, Y. S. (Eds.). Handbook of qualitative research. Thousand
Oaks, CA: Sage, pp. 202-205.

Hiaasen, C. (1985, July 2). Tanning action proves beauty can be beastly. The Miami
Herald, p. lB.

Hiaasen, C. (1986a, January 1). Latest arrests close out bad year for police. The Miami
Herald, pp. 1B-2B.

Hiaasen, C. (1986b, March 3). Suicide that tore family apart now brings it together. The
Miami Herald, pp. 1B-2B.

Hiaasen, C. (1986c, August 1). Big questions unanswered in punching case. The Miami
Herald, p. lB.

Hiaasen, C. (2000). Sick Puppy. New York: Knopf

Hiaasen, C. (2002a). Basket Case. New York: Knopf

Hiaasen, C. (2002b). Website. http://www.carlhiaasen.com/books/basket.html, last
accessed: June 1, 2005.

Hiaasen, C. (2004). .\siliy Dip. New York: Knopf

Hiaasen, C. (2005). Interview by author. April 4. Via phone.

Hirsch, R. (2004). Interview by author, October 15, Miami.

Lawrence, D. (2005). Interview by author. April 30. Via e-mail.









The Legacy of Mariel. (2005)
http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/news/special_packages/archive/, last
accessed Aug. 1, 2005. The Miami Herald

Merritt, D. (2005). Knightfall: Knight Ridder and how the erosion of newspaper
journalism is putting democracy at risk. New York: AMACOM.

Pleasants, J. M. (2003). Orange journalism. Gainesville: University Press of Florida.

Polsgrove, C. (1995). It wasn't pretty, folks, but didn't we have fun?. New York, NY: W.
W. Norton & Company.

The Pulitzer Prizes. http://www.pulitzer.org, last accessed May 17, 2005.

Purdy, J. (1999). The journalism ofMark Twain: Frontier reportage and social criticism.
Master's Thesis: University of Florida.

Riffe, D., Aust, C. F., & Lacy, S. R. (1993) The effectiveness of random, consecutive day
and constructed week sampling in newspaper content analysis. Journalism
Quarterly, 70, 133-139.

Seymour, G. (1991, November 17). Crazy from the heat: In mystery novelist Carl
Hiaasen's Floridaa, crocodiles eat tourists, eco-terrorists kidnap the Orange Bowl
Queen, and Mickey Mouse is filthy vermin. Los Angeles Times Magazine, pp. 25,
26, 28, 58.

Smith, A. (1980). Is objectivity obsolete?. Columbia Journalism Review, May/June, pp.
61-65.

Strauss, A. & Corbin, J. (1990). Basics of qualitative research: Grounded theory
procedures and techniques. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.

Trillin, C. (1986, February 17). Covering the cops. The New Yorker.

Weber, R. (Ed.). (1974). The Reporter as artist: A look at the New Journalism
controversy. New York, NY: Hastings House.

Weber, R. (1980). The literature offact: Literary nonfiction in American writing. Athens,
OH: Ohio University Press.

Weitzel, P. (2005). Interview by author. July 5. Via phone.


Wicker, T. (1978). On press. New York, NY: Viking Press.















BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

David Duwe Stanton was born in Stuart, Florida. During his sophomore year at the

University of Florida, he changed his major from mechanical engineering to journalism.

As an undergraduate, he worked or interned in newspaper writing, editing, photography,

magazines and corporate communications. He focused his graduate work in media

convergence and online news/content production as a teaching assistant to David Carlson,

director of the Interactive Media Lab. He will begin his doctoral work at the University of

Florida upon graduation.