Defense Mechanism

I was just sending my end of the day wrap to the boss, having just landed at home after a long day in the field, when the magnitude of what I was a part of today hit me like a ton of bricks.

When I got paged out to cover the massive police sweep of Hoyt Park early this afternoon, I guess I went into the story with my "happy ending" sights set pretty low. Let's face it -- Steven Weber, the guy police were searching the heavily forested, cave-ridden, 27-acre park for, had already murdered his ex-wife before going on the lam. When cops found his truck at the park this morning, the best case scenario we could hope for was that they would find him alive and he could be tried for his heinous act.

From there, the possible scenarios got grimmer. Police could find Weber dead by his own hand, which they eventually did, but at least the situation is resolved now and no one else has been hurt. But police could also have found nothing, leaving an armed and dangerous fugitive on the loose. Or, there were the nightmare scenarios, where Weber could have elected to take a hostage or shoot it out with the cops.

So yeah, I went into my work day today with some low expectations.

Nothing that happened today could undo Francie Weber's murder. Nothing could erase the years of domestic abuse that lead up to it or the impact it had on the couple's children. As a reporter on a breaking story, I have to accept the old facts and focus on getting the new ones straight so I can relay them to the public. I have to push the tragedy that has already unfolded out of my mind long enough to do my part to keep it from turning into a bigger tragedy.

Duty is a fine defense mechanism, though anyone who's seen me in a tense situation will tell you I rely just as heavily on a dark sense of humor which sometimes verges on inappropriate. I get that from my Dad, who once quipped, "This is great, I've always wanted a convertible," as paramedics cut away the roof of the car that was literally wrapped around him, mangled when another vehicle ran a stop sign at 70 miles an hour and broadsided my Dad in his driver's side door.

In a standoff or other "hurry up and wait" situations like today, there's ample time to yuck it up with cops and other reporters stuck at the same scene. There's nothing disrespectful intended in it, and I opine that there's nothing wrong with it if it's done discreetly and without crossing the line. Many in law enforcement and the press share that same strong defense mechanism, I've learned, and as they say, misery loves company.

For instance, I was part of a cadre of press and cops that spent 15 minutes or so delighting in the predicament of a pizza delivery driver this afternoon who had a delivery assigned to him within the police perimeter and couldn't get the deliveree to answer his or her cell phone. After all of our snickering and goading, the driver actually took us up on our offer, and we bought the pizza off him on the cheap and tipped generously.

Eating Glass Nickle pizza out the back of Channel 3's news van was as surreal as it was hilarious -- and necessary too, because most of us hadn't eaten in quite some time.

And as long as we're on the subject of food, I found something else to be particularly heartening today. I eventually settled on a vantage point a little further down the block, with another police officer and a few other reporters, and we spent most of the afternoon camped on that corner. Elation is the best way to describe the reaction when a neighbor brought out, first, a tray of drinks and, later, a plate of elaborately constructed ham sandwiches.

The random generosity of the kindly woman who lives next to Capital City Church on Blackhawk Avenue felt, at the time, like the stuff of legends.

But it was at that corner that I met Madison Police Officer Jxxxxxk, who had been on duty since 5:30 in the morning. After sharing that corner for only a couple hours, we were delighting not only in speculating what grim scenarios might be unfolding in the hills and houses to our west, but also in ripping on each other relentlessly.

When a series of loud pops echoed out of the bluffs around 6:35 PM, Jxxxxxk instinctively dropped to a crouch, hand on his gun butt, and I drew pen and microphone with equal ferocity. The moment passed, and we determined the sound was gas canisters discharging in the park's caves, designed to smoke a suspect out of hiding.

But that's the way the mechanism is supposed to work. It doesn't interfere with the job, it just keeps you from losing your head while you're doing it. If we had spent the day focusing on the horrors of a repeated domestic abuse case taken to the final extreme, we'd have been miserable, and not very capable of doing our jobs.

So I survived the day with nothing more harrowing than a serious sunburn, and Jxxxxxk eventually got home to his three kids. And this is where the tough part begins, because now we have to turn the defense mechanisms off.

We have to do that because to neglect to do so does a disservice to the two people who weren't dead three days ago but are now. It's disrespectful to their families, for whom the real suffering is only just beginning. And leaving those defense mechanisms on all the time is not healthy for us, could in fact choke the humanity out of us eventually, turning us into the worst incarnations of our respective professions.

Tomorrow, back in the shelter of the news room, we start the task of asking the bigger questions. Why did this slimeball Weber think it was okay to beat on his wife and kids the way he did? Why was he allowed out on a measly 500 dollars bail after he was charged with one particularly awful case of domestic violence? How many other Webers are there out there committing atrocities we don't even know about?

And how do we stop this from happening?

Drinkability

There isn't much I don't resent about Budweiser, like being from Missouri and pretending to be able to make a goddamn beer. But one of their recent advertising campaigns, the one flaunting their swill's so-called "drinkability," has really got my goat.

It's not that I object to their minor manipulation of the English language. Stephen Colbert tweaks words all the time, and I admire the hell out of him for it.

Foremost, I'm cheesed off that they co-opted a term that was already sort of part of the vernacular and turned it into a trademark. I'm even more cheesed off that they think they can claim a monopoly on being drinkable when their product makes me gag like gasoline mixed with ipecac. You know what it takes to be drinkable? Two atoms of hydrogen, one atom of oxygen and a steady temperature between 0 and 100 degrees Celsius.

So I've been bound and determined for some time to re-claim the term from Budweiser's corporate sluts, and it just struck me the other week how to do it.

As I was wrapping up a particularly enjoyable phone interview at work the other week, I nodded to myself and chuckled, "Man, I wouldn't mind sitting down for a beer with that guy." This got me to thinking about the number of elected, state or municipal officials who, while they may be very competent and even good at their jobs, are not particularly engaging, at least at first blush.

But there are a select few who leave me in a better mood after speaking with them. For whatever reason, they're just all-around, fascinating and seemingly good folks, and I really would like to sit down and have a beer with them.

To reclaim the word from the corporate sluts, they have good drinkability.

Now, I know it's an unfortunate and somewhat established fact that when Americans were polled in the months leading up to the 2004 election, they overwhelmingly said they would be more interested in sitting down to have a beer with George W. Bush than John Kerry. We all know how that turned out, and I'm not saying drinkability in an official is the end-all be-all as a measuring stick for the kind of public steward a person is.

But the notion did get me thinking, and I've decided to start a list of public officials I'd really like to sit down for a brew with. I'll add to it from time to time, and hopefully I'll get to cross a few off as well. But without more ado, here are the first five.

1. State Representative Jeff Smith. I'll admit, I'm starting the beer list with a partial. While I haven't sat down specifically to have a beer with this Eau Claire Democrat, I did bump into him at my Wednesday night hangout on the outer capitol loop a couple months ago, and we had a brief discussion at the bar.

Smith, a handful of other legislators and it seemed their entire office staffs must have spent the evening working late on a big project, because they were out en masse that night. My buddies and I watched, bemused, for a while, then I went up to the bar to introduce myself to Smith and a certain young-legislator-with-a-lot-of-power-who-shall-go-unnamed.

When I identified myself as a reporter, Smith's colleague suddenly became much less interested in our end of the bar and, engrossed in his Blackberry, wandered into a solitary corner to bask in its cold glow. I watched him go, then turned back to Smith and grinned.

"He doesn't care much for the press, does he? Was it something I said?"

Smith looked at his beer and smirked. "He's kind of the jumpy type."

"And you?"

"Me? I'm just a guy from Eau Claire who works well with other people and enjoys a cold beer," he said. I told him I respect the hell out of that. We chatted for a while about his work on the state's new Committee on Elections and Campaign Reform before I closed my tab and took off. I'd still jump at the chance to finish my conversation with this laid back legislator who clearly understands that reporters are people too.

2. State Treasurer Dawn Marie Sass. Yeah, I know, the freakin' state treasurer. Sounds boring, right? What the hell does she even do?

Well, for starters, she tells a helluva story. I've never met her in person, but there have been times when she's had me nearly in tears of laughter while on the phone. Being able to tell a good old-fashioned ripping yarn is rapidly dwindling as a skillset in today's society, but Sass was either schooled in the trade, or else she was born a prodigy.

And I'm talking about on-topic stories she was telling me, nothing off the record or meant simply to entertain. I am absolutely convinced this woman is just a font of entertainment in a social situation. She's gregarious, engaging and impeccable in her timing. A dirty joke from Dawn Marie Sass could probably reduce a barfight to a fit of jocularity in mere seconds.

3. UW-Madison School of Journalism Director Jim Baughman. And it's basically my fault that I haven't been able to sit down with this icon yet, because I was too dumb when I was a student in one of his lectures to go up and introduce myself. Unfortunately, I took "A History of Mass Communication" before I had fully grasped the concept that professors can be fascinating human beings and can even be approached outside of class.

Instead, I satisfied myself by faithfully attending his lectures, which I once described to a friend as the most enlightening standup routines I'd ever sat through. His impression of George W. Bush never failed to bring down the house, and stories about his grandmother became the stuff of legends. Looking back at my notes, unfortunately, it seems I was too busy trying to take down the sheer volume of knowledge he was imparting to scribble many of his quotations in the margins, other than a now-inexplicable, "Our journalism commandos will burst into History and say, 'Major in Journalism or DIE!' -JB-"

It's rumored that Baughman is a regular at a select number of local watering holes. Try as I might, I'm fighting fate, and I've never seen him at a brewpub.

4. Dane County Supervisor Eileen Bruskewitz. I'm fond of saying there's no disagreement that can't settled over a beer or two. Eileen Bruskewitz and I would need a keg to get through the list of points we would likely spar over.

Waunakee's representative on the County Board was a relentless promoter of Nancy Mistele's sometimes tasteless election bid for the county executive's seat. She fights many moves by the board to preserve and conserve Dane County's natural areas, arguing it's not the government's place to act as a landowner, but also saying some flagrantly dismissive things about environmental concerns that really get my green hackles up.

Bruskewitz is even a staunch opponent of creating a Regional Transit Authority to fund and build a commuter rail line across the county. On election night at Nancy Mistele's campaign headquarters, our friendly conversation turned to this topic, and we did have a bit of a verbal tussle on the subject.

I heartily enjoyed it. There's something to be said for a good argument against a well-researched opponent. Bruskewitz may be alarmingly right-wing compared to the crowd I normally move with, but she's incisive, quick-witted and doesn't take the disagreement personally.

We agreed on election night that a more proper venue and a little more time to kill would be appropriate for a "final showdown" over the train issue, and I do hope we get a chance to get the drinks we sort of promised each other.

5. Dodge County Sheriff Todd Nehls. And to be fair, there are a number of law enforcement officials I wouldn't mind having a beer with -- Sheriff Dennis Richards and Chief Deputy Mike Babcock in Columbia County, Sheriff Randy Roderick in Green County, Sheriff Dave Mahoney in Dane County, Madison Police Chief Noble Wray and spokesman Joel Despain, just to name a few.

But I gained a lot of respect for Sheriff Nehls during a phone interview recently. We were discussing the alarming number of car crash fatalities involving young people in the Beaver Dam area, and instead of the formal, rehearsed "this is a tragic day for (blank)" speech I've come to expect from many officials, he spoke to me from the heart.

Nehls lamented the lack of activities for young people in the small community to keep them from drinking in the country, a popular past time in Smalltown Wisconsin. Nehls and I compared notes about our individual small towns, and the perception that one must drive everywhere.

Throughout the conversation, his emotions ranged from deep regret through frustration and even borderline anger when he told me one story. As they were taking the body of one young person from the car she was killed in, Nehls told me they found the obituary of one of her classmates, killed several weeks before, in the glove box.

It was one of the most real conversations I've ever had with an official, but Nehls can always be counted on to bypass the bullshit. I'm always willing to buy for anyone who's that sincere.

Update.. Ogg

You're welcome, Deborah Ziff. Let's say this one's on the house, but next time you attribute your stories to Dustin Weis at WTDY, this blog and Dane101, where you heard it first. zzzzzIIIIInnnnnggggg!

Actually, I'm not too concerned. The different media rip each other off all the time. I had them stolen when I was a newspaper reporter, as well...not to mention I 'borrowed' one or two myself. I wonder if Deborah is a listener to the radio station, or if she pulled it from the blog. No worries. In fact, look for the papers to make off with another of my stories, which I will be posting on later this week.

In related news, I did speak with Dave Helbach, the state Facilities Administrator, on the phone today. He confirmed for me that, yes, in fact, a large piece of falling Ogg debris crushed someone's car. And that, quite frankly, is awesome. I knew the old firetrap wouldn't go down without a fight.

It's been a long day, and I did attend Kathleen Falk's press conference today. I may or may not have the energy to launch into another tirade tomorrow. We'll see. But the moral of the story is, and remains, there's way too little information being let out about this or any of these murder cases. Period.

Daily... DFWW

I got a call from my hometown newspaper today. I submitted my posting from Monday, and they want to run it as a letter to the editor. That makes me happy, as it's been a while since I've been published in print. Ask anyone who's ever written for a paper. You get that ink in your blood and it never really disappears. And quite honestly, if the opportunity arose to write professionally again, I would be torn. I think my ideal job is one where I could gracefully straddle the chasm between broadcast and print, but until I find that job, I'm happy as a radio reproter who occasionally writes... Or a newspaper writer who occasionally moonlights in radio.

Screw it, I'm just happy to be working.