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6 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, August 23, 1988 Editorial Comments Deteriorating Standards for a proud profession The following editorial was written by good friend and fellow publisher John E. James of the Amhurstbur Echo. The comments made by Mr. James echo our feel- ings at the Star towards "sensationalism in journalism" we hope our readers are in agreement as well. » * » » * A problem within the journalism field, one which has concerned us for some time, is quickly approaching the point where outside intervention might be inevitable. At is- sue here is the manner in which far too many responsible media outlets are handling news stories these days. The latest disgusting example of media insensitvity appeared recently in Mount Forest, Ontario. An eight year old girl disappeared from the main street of this small town in broad daylight, at 5 pm on a Satur- day. A huge manhunt was launched, but the child was found dead a day later. A local man man in his late twen- ties, known to both the little girl and her family, has been charged with sexual assault and murder. For the outside world, every piece of information need- ed to compile a grisly picture of the tragic events is con- tained within those two paragraphs. There is no need for any further media exposure. For the family of the little girl, the world they once knew has ended. For friends and neighbours in the small com- munity, things will never be the same again. Unfortunately, one of the reasons things will never be the same is because a horde of oig city" media reporters and photographers swooped down like a flock of vultures upon the small town, which is located roughly seventy miles northwest of Toronto. : They pricked and pried; interviewed acquaintances of the family, and friends of the little girl; took pictures of the spot where the body was found; printed school class pho- tos; and created stories abou the psychiatric imbalances which might have provoked such an outrageous affront to human sensibilities. (The latter is tragically ironic.) The media turned the entire town --- and all its resi- dents --- inside out, and upside down. Some of the pulp produced was based on facts. The vast majority was garbage, created by insatiable public appetites for unlimited exposure to anything bizarre or grotesque. Human suffering is at the top of that list. There can be no other reason which explains why: "twenty photogra- phers showed up at the funeral", as the local newspaper observed. To do what? To capture the image of a devasted family; helpless to cope with or conceal the overwhelming raw emotions which are generated by tragic circumstances. Numbed by rief, these poor souls are perfect players to parade in ront of the cameras mindless eye. Later: eyes glued to the evening news, or hands grip- ping the morning Raper, several hundred thousand view- (Turn to page 10) Port Perry 1 Ch | 235 QUEEN STREET - PORT PERRY, ONTARIO nll Phone 985-7383 P.0.Box90 LOB INO J. PETER HVIDSTEN Publisher Advertising Manager Member of the Canadian Community Newspaper Association and Ontario Community Newspaper Association Published every Tuesday by the Port Perry Star Co. Ltd, Port Perry, Ontario. J.B. McCLELLAND Editor Authorized as second class mail by the Post Office Department, Ottawa, and for cash CATHY OLLIFFE payment of postage in cash News & Features Cecond Class Mail Registration Number 0265 Goa A Subscription Rate: In Canada $20.00 per year. 3 I] 0 Elsewhere $60.00 per year. Single Copy 50° © COPYRIGHT -- All layout and composition of advertisements produced by the adver- tising department of the Port Perry Star Company Limited are protected under copyright and may not be reproduced without the written permission of the publisher Chatterbox by Cathy Olliffe GETTING HOSED All day long, the guys kept hinting they had something sneaky up their sleeves. We (the wives) kinda figured our firefighter husbands were planning on putting us on the end of a few fire hoses, turning on the water full power, and watching us fall down on our keesters while they giggled and such. For those who don't know, holding a fire hose is not like holding a garden hose. The force of the water jetting out from the pumper truck is strong enough to knock a full-grown man on his behind if he doesn't hold the nozzle right. Once a hose is out of control, it writhes and twists like a hissing snake. A single blow to the head from any pan of the hose could seriously injure, or even Kill a person. Sounds scarey, true, but as long as you hang onto the thing properly, everything's fine. Or so | was told by my own husband in the hours leading up to the annual Caesarea fire- gighter's family barbecue. Always a guaranteed good time, the barbe- cue offers plenty of burgers, dogs and corn on the cob; good conversation; and games for the kids. This year, however, organizers added something new to the proceedings-- something sneaky, something they wouldn't tell us about until late that afternoon, when the barbecue was already in progress. Hose races! Not merely a opportunity to see wives tumble around with hoses, but a real op- portunity for all of us to compete in a drill that is designed to speed up hose assembly at the scene of a fire. What happens, in a nutshell is this--Six members to each team. Each person on the team has a job. The goal is to connect hoses together, attach them to the pumper truck, run them out a certain distance, turn on the water, and blow two farets (plastic bottles sit- ting on chairs) away with the water. The object of the drill is to be as fast as possible. After the food and the kids' games, teams were made up. Three male teams, made up of firefighters, were scheduled one at a time be- fore the female teams (wives) could get their turn. The team | was on included Kathy Hueston, Julie Pickering, Andy Gonnerman, Sue Pe- ters and Sue Hastings. All of us were nervous wrecks leading up to our race, with the possi- ble exception of Kathy, who had seen the drills before at a firefighters' convention. We were nervous, but plenty excited too as we ran through what we had to do in the min- utes leading up to the races, and then watched the first men's team in action. Wearing full gear (helmets, bunker suits, coats, boots), the six men lined up beside the hoses, waiting for a signal to start. : When it came, they exploded into action. Two men grabbed coils of hose and ran with them out into the centre of the field, where they threw them down to the ground and watched them unravel. Meanwhile, two more had already run to that point with nozzles, and quickly attached the nozzles to the ends of the hoses. °* Hose connectors were attached, tightened; the two at the end of the nozzle settled into proper positions, and a signal was given to turn on the water. The spray erupted out of the ends and blew the targets into oblivion. The whole drill took about 44 seconds. The second team of guys took slightly long- er, and team number three, | think, came up with a time somewhere in between. With daylight fading fast, we watched ner- vously as the first team of women took their turn, and then applauded when they came up with a time only about 30 seconds longer than the guys. And then it was our turn. Dressed up in our husbands' gear, we felt like little kids up to our eyeballs in stifling snowsuits. Doug's bunker suit, smelley, damp and hot, rubbed hard on my skin, but | didn't notice, because my heart was thumping in my throat. | adjusted the tight-fitting helmet, lowered the plastic visor, and panic-stricken, waited for the starting signal. When it came, | snapped up the nozzle and ran halfway down the field, turning it to a closed position as | ran. Kathy had the same job as me, and we waited together for the ose to be brought to us and unravelled. Julie whipped down the field right behind me, hose in hand, and then stumbled as she attempted to throw and unravel the coiled hose. | jumped in to help her, almost oblivious to the husbands who stood right beside us, to make sure nothing went wrong. After wrestling with the stubbornly curled hose for what seemed like hours, | finally found the end, and tried to calm my thudding heart as | prepared to screw on the nozzle. It had to be done right. If it wasn't, the water could gush out uncontrolled and hurt me or (Turn to page eight) a