A good reporter cuts through the BS. A good reporter also stays neutral and unbiased, at least for his or her subject, story, and research, and in the final result of what is, at some point, published. If he is anything else, the article is no more than an opinion piece better left for the editorial page of what remains of print media.
This evening, I went to a lecture given by Roger Rapoport. He is a producer, investigator, and author. His most recently published book is Searching for Patty Hearst- A True Crime Novel (Lexographic Press, 2024). I purchased a copy tonight and I look forward to reading it, partly for the sake of nostalgia and mostly to see if there was anything I’d missed in my younger years.
Once upon a time (okay, fifty years ago) I was a ten-year-old. One of the most memorable news stories was the kidnapping and search for Patty Hearst. I remember the actual nightmares my mother had for my sisters' safety following Hearst's abduction. They both lived in California at the time. One was newly married and the other attended high school in Stockton. Mommie would wake up from nightmares that her two oldest children had been kidnapped or murdered. One time she had a dream so vivid of my sisters' severed arms left on our doorstep holding small notes in their fists. Once contacted, my sisters would reassure our mother (each and every time) that they were safe and happy.
On the other hand, Ms. Hearst was held captive and brainwashed and, as a result, robbed banks with her captors. What would make a teen girl, barely a woman, participate in these dangerous and violent capers? Was it the brainwashing? Was it Stockholm Syndrome? Was it fear or even boredom?
Having been locked in a closet and her life threatened, Ms. Hearst emerged days later to find out that her father was unwilling (yet able) to pay the ransom. In her mind, the young abductee's whole world became an illusion; reality distorted. Her father, Randy Hearst (heir to the powerful Hearst Publishing machine), was advised by the government's negotiators not to pay the requested money. Whatever the reason, Patty's heart and mind were broken. Into the cracks were poured the views of her terrorist captors. Following the isolation and deprivation of the dark and tiny closet, she was fed tales of the war in Vietnam, starving communities not far from Ms. Hearst’s own mansion, and of course, threats to her loved ones.
Roger Rapoport’s book promises to enlighten and educate readers with facts as well as anecdotes. After all, Patty Hearst’s fiancé (at the time of her kidnapping), Steven Weed, lived with Rapoport in California, shortly after his intended bride was taken for ransom and he was beaten horribly. The men had even worked on a book together about Ms. Hearst but later published separate accounts.
Having not read the book yet, I can only recommend the author by his other notable works and movies, one of which is the obscure film Waterwalk, which I remember as a hidden gem. After the meet-and-greet, Rapoport asked me what my name is. His was, of course, familiar to me. I was impressed by his knowledge and research. He said that he wouldn’t give his opinions of Patty Hearst’s motives for wielding a machine gun and robbing banks with known domestic terrorists. I admired that. It lent credibility to his lecture and research—but here’s what I liked best: as he asked me my name and complimented me on presenting good questions at the end of the lecture, I mentioned that my email address was on the guest-list next to the words Manitowen Press. He asked where the Press is based out of. I answered in Michigan, yet he wanted to know specifically what city. He was direct. He cut through my bull. I am not always forthcoming about what city Manitowen Press runs its business in for a multitude of reasons, mainly because I hold the privacy of some authors in my hands. It is also because, as an author and editor (a poorly skilled one at that), I have made a few public comments that would have been brushed off decades ago. In today’s world there is always some crank with a propensity for violence. I even had a stalker. In separate instances, I’ve had threats made against me and even one made online at a family member's dog. (Briefly, I had Ollie's photo set to public on one of my online media accounts. I have a small farm as well as an interest in hunting and fishing. An overzealous person threatened to hang the dog and skin it like farm animals are slaughtered for consumers. I'm digressing, but you can see that these kinds of people don't think logically. I am getting over my own traumas, and I don’t welcome much attention.) Yet, there was Rapoport, a stranger, looking me straight in the eyes, asking very direct questions, and no amount of charm would dissuade him.
That is how he remained a key player in the media game, by distilling a potential story down to its essence, and that, my friends, is how a reporter strikes gold.
(I’ll give you an opinion about Finding Patty Hearst at a
later date.)
No comments:
Post a Comment