Trust in the media is something we talk about on a grand scale. The Queen having a strop, for instance, or the uproar over You Say, We Pay on Richard and Judy.
We dissect the issue of trust when there’s been a major breach. But what of the minor ones?
I’ve long since got over the fact that some content is magazines is made up. Those sex stories in lads’ mags, for example, are not really sent in to the title. Rather, some delightfully imaginative staffer pens out some filthy fantasy.
It’s a white lie. A fib. I can deal with things like that, because they’re damn entertaining to read. Not a problem if they’re not true — I’m not relying on Nuts for tips in the bedroom, thanks.
I’m a lot more concerned about something I learned just this week. Over on a forum I frequent, a member posted a dilemma. A press trip to stay in a hotel (for reviewing purposes) was all set to go ahead. Booked it, packed it, etc. But then the magazine folded. The now angry hotel wants the journalist to pay in full anyway. The journalist explains:
“The hotel (a very swanky expensive one) offered three nights on a comp basis half board plus four nights on a media rate.
I’ve promised them I will try very hard to get something placed elsewhere BUT they have come back and said the hotel now wants to charge me the media rate for all seven nights and it’ll only be B&B.
So the stay will now cost me around £600-700 extra. Not good news.”
Not good news at all. But by far the most alarming part of those paragraphs were the words ‘media rate’.
One member shares my concern:
“I might be missing something here but how can you review a hotel when the hotel knows you’re reviewing it?”
To which comes this reply:
“I’d love to be able to review in secret but given my editors aren’t in a position to pay my expenses, the only way most of us can do travel pieces is by being hosted on press trips of one sort or another.”
Which is backed up further by another member:
“Straight hotel ‘reviews’ are pretty rare in travel journalism, really…they’re much more likely to be just mentioned in the fact box, with maybe a name check in the text for letting you stay for free. The nature of the assignments (ie. they would cost several thousand pounds to do) mean that in fact almost everything within travel journalism is paid for by someone other than the journalist.”
Thus rendering them useless, no? If hotel staff know you’re there to review the hotel, you can bet you’ll be getting preferential treatment. Quicker food, the best rooms, friendlier staff. In fact, I bet in the staff rooms they’ll have a list of which rooms have people paying ‘media rate’.
One member points out:
“I wonder how many negative reviews are written by journalists on freebies. It’s no wonder sites such as Tripadvisor are proving so useful.”
Quite. It goes back to a post made by former-Press-Gazette-now-PaidContent journalist Patrick Smith, who questioned the validity of film critics:
“A more extreme and amusing example of obscure film-blurbism Guy Ritchie’s not-awful-but-completely-bewildering Revolver (about gangsters, unsurprisingly). The film was universally panned by critics, yet huge billboards appeared around towns declaring it ”Brilliant…Guy Ritchie back to his best!”
Fair enough if that’s what you think, except that the line is from The Sun’s online film e-zine Film First which had bagged a WORLD EXCLUSIVE interview with the director, as The Guardian pointed out at the time. Private Eye established that the “brilliant!” part of the quote was from none other than The Sun’s Page 3 girl Ruth (she makes a brief appearance in the film).”
Are journalists really going to pan a hotel when they know that if they big it up, they’ll probably get another free trip again soon?
Perhaps more worrying is this scenario from another member:
“I only adored one of the hotels (one was fine but naff, and the other was fine but austere) they only used the one for the hotel I genuinely loved. I still got paid for all my work.”
So not only can we not fully trust motives behind hotel reviews, we also don’t get to see the ones that don’t get a favourable write up. Why is this? If it’s a high-profile hotel which turns out to be a complete stinker, isn’t the press in place to provide the service of warning us?
From when I was in New Zealand, I recall Jim Tucker telling me about how he went around Wellington reviewing restaurants. This wasn’t a press trip, and I’m certain Jim didn’t let them know he was there to review the food. His reviews never saw the light of day. Why? Because he dared to criticise.
We often call for high-profile journalists to declare their interests. In fact, a member of the same forum that I’ve been quoting from here has suggested we produce a national register documenting those interests. Great idea, I say. And, let’s not forget Robert Peston who is being ‘looked at’ because of some of his financial coverage. I believe we’ll find that Peston is merely a brilliant journalist and an astute financial genius, but we just don’t know how cosy he is to the people he reports on.
They’re more serious examples. But why not apply this practice to all journalists? If a hotel review has conducted with the hotel’s prior knowledge, then I think we, as readers, have a right to know this.
The depressing but inevitable demise of Press Gazette
April 6th, 2009It’s a sad day — Press Gazette has been a part of many a journalist’s career, from the Grey Cardigan column keeping the old-timers happy, to the Knowledge section showing newcomers the way to go.
I’m proud to say I contributed plenty to the magazine. First, as student on work experience. Being on the newsdesk of what was already a shrinking staff gave me plenty of opportunities. And as I wrote up notes on the train home I realised that I was improving as a journalist with every day I spent there.
There were signs of discontent when I was on my placement. While looking through the paper archives, I was struck by how the print product had evolved in such a short time. Gone was the slick, filled-to-the-brim magazine that screamed “finger” and “pulse” at you. In its place had arrived a cheap-feeling, awkward publication that resembled an internal staff newsletter.
I was told, way back in 2007, that the British Press Awards — the magazine’s big event of the year — was what was keeping PG alive and well. Well, alive at least. It was a real money spinner. Should the awards go, then the magazine would almost certainly go with it. It’s no coincidnce that the Awards happened last week. One last hurrah.
I made some great contacts. Martin Stabe, the then online editor (who is now at Retail Week), gave me what was essentially my first big break by linking to my site from his widely read blog. I repayed this favour by calling him Michael. D’oh. Martin managed to hook me up as the magazine’s Student Journalism blogger — my first regular paid gig.
After university, Martin gave me my second big break, putting me in touch with Nick Reynolds at the BBC. That contact led to my current job on the BBC Internet Blog. I hope and believe that if I play my cards right, I could well end up working for the BBC for the rest of my life.
There’s no doubt that I wouldn’t be in the position I am now without the help of Martin and Press Gazette.
But in more recent times, my relationship with the magazine has been seriously tarnished.
Fast forward from 2007 to last summer. After a month or so of unemployed panic, I was excited to learn that Press Gazette were hiring a reporter. Brilliant news for me — I knew most of the staff, knew the beat, had the skills and even the contacts.
Encouragingly, two members of staff emailed to suggest I go ahead and apply.
I was confident. In reality, I should have been sceptical. The position I was filling was that of Patrick Smith — who grabbed a great spot on PaidContent. They needed a replacement, or so I thought.
I’d decided I didn’t want the job about five minutes into the interview. I was told that they didn’t actually know if they were hiring anyone. What they’d prefer to do was extend the hours of an existing member of staff from three days (if I remember correctly) to five days. Fair enough — although it would have been a good idea to work their budgets out before advertising for a full time reporter.
But I could let that go detail go. What I couldn’t let go was what happened next. I was offered another placement — maybe (yes, maybe) with expenses. Incredibly insulting — I’d gone from applying for a job to being offered some work experience. To quote a tabloid sensation who is no longer with us: “‘Ave I got ‘MUG’ written on my ‘ead?”
I didn’t. I turned down the placement (or rather, scooted around the offer) and said I was interested in the paid position, thanks. They said they’d let me know.
Weeks passed, and nothing. Nothing until the leaving do of Patrick, which I was invited along to. On the day of his departure, I got a call at about half five letting me know I didn’t get the job. I’m guessing the editor suddenly realised it would be a good idea to tell me before I went to to the pub. After all, everyone there would be congratulating the successful applicant. Or rather, the reporter who got two extra days a week.
I wonder how long it would have taken had I not gone to wish Patrick well?
But that’s besides the point. What that whole furore told me about Press Gazette is that it was a publication in complete disarray. My experiences were just one part of a big mess that started from the very top and tumbled down. It was a publication that lacked direction, ideas and, crucially, money. As a freelance, I’ve waited over 8 months to be paid by them, contiually emailing and ringing to get it sorted out. Only to learn the best way to deal with the unprofessionalism (of their accounts, not the journalists) was to have a great old rant on Twitter.
A great shame. Journalism needs publications like Press Gazette, but long gone are the days where it had any real drive or clout. MediaGuardian, big in budget, has flattened it into a mere pancake of irrelevance.
Is it risky to have the dominant media publication tied to a newspaper? Probably, but MediaGuardian still reports discontent at the Guardian Media Group, so, on the surface at least, it seems to be ok. And if not, bloggers and other sites can make up the gap.
Maybe Press Gazette will rise up from the dead like it has done in the past — but I don’t see it. This collapse goes well beyond the credit crunch. A magazine that I held in very high regard has fallen from a once great height, leaving me with a very bitter taste in my mouth.
The journalists at PG only found out of the closure today too. Not surprising — given my experience there. I wish them all the very best of luck finding other work — when you look at the size of the staff, to put out that much good content was an amazing effort, and they all deserve to be better paid and appreciated.
There’ll be coos of nostalgia for Press Gazette in the press for the next few days, but, with tinges of regret, it really is time to let it go. They say the website will remain, but I think we all know it’ll just be the job site and little else. Roy Greenslade has put out this plea for a buyer — but I don’t think any publishers will touch it.
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Posted in Comment, My Work, Student Journalism, The Web
Tags: grey cardigan martin stabe media guardian patrick smith press gazette roy greenslade