Reflections

I am sitting in the Merchandise Mart on a Saturday morning, sipping on a hot cup of Joe. It dawns on me suddenly how many times I have been in the place, and how different things were then...

For those new to the world of the Giant Detective I'll shed some light on that. Once upon a time, a younger, greener Private Dick used to stalk the halls of the Merchandise Mart, immersed in the the burning house of cards that was the Chicago Sun-Times. It was a groovy time in my life, and probably the most influential era of professional development... which also made it a very hard goodbye. You think Bogey and Hepburn on a runway remembering Paris was a tough one? I can only hold your hand as I spin this sordid tale.

I joined the paper at the tender age of 24, after a brief and miserable stint in finance. I will tell you the quickest litmus test of a person's true nature is how long they can survive in the mucky, greed-infested swamp of consumer finance. I had done very well for my relative youth though, and came into the paper with eyes wide open. I had always loved the paper, and still do... although more like a long-lost dame than a job. The newspaper was about to enter its climactic tailspin, as the robber baron publisher, Lord Conrad Black, and his minion, a very Mr. Burns-esque creep named David Radler, had been looting the coffers, fraudulently doctoring circulation, and committing other heinous acts of corporate mischief.

The ensuing turmoil inadvertently changed my life, as I was able to ascend the ranks well ahead of the curve. I was becoming a sort of golden boy, but a "tarnished" golden boy as I rose to prominence at the expense of a few other more tenured individuals. During this time I would often scoff at the lack of vision my fellow leadership endorsed, as they definitely were unable or unwilling to adapt quickly enough to the changing media scape. I watched as ill conceived digital products were launched, well conceived ones back burnered. Executives completely unqualified to navigate the new landscape given promotions and more power, while the talented "idea" people were censored. Most importantly though, I watched greed destroy an institution.

It didn't have to be that way; it doesn't have to be the way it is. If traditional media was willing to be flexible, take risks, hire and inspire futurists instead of coddling dinosaurs, it wouldn't be on life support. I have always endorsed micro-payments as a way to accomodate content reimbursement... internet accounts where a few pennies get allocated for usage. On-demand content and interactions with talent and columnists. Media brokerage... the most radical but simple solution... trading available advertising space and positions on an electronic market. That is a separate post, and one I truly believe would be a gamechanger, but I digress.

The moral of the story is print isn't dead, although it sure has tried hard to commit suicide. Media companies have and will continue to evolve, but they need to be a heck of a lot more intelligent in their direction. Nimbler, more engaging, immediate and authoritative. Media outlets have failed their audiences, its time to win them back.

After writing and reflecting on the topic, my time in this granite and steel Kennedy fortress (the Merchandise Mart is a Kennedy family landmark for those unaware) was educative, inspiring, depressing, uplifting, and every shade of ennui... but it is passed. Its only too bad that there wasn't a Pink Berry when I roamed the halls.