The journalistic gifts that keep on giving

I'm meeting with a German journalist today. He's here working on some research about Sarah Palin. I couldn't hear his last name very clearly on the answering machine, but I do know to call him Mark. He called yesterday afternoon, simply stating who he was, whom he represented and that he'd like to meet me.

He left his number, so I called him back. After the introductory niceties of "How are you? Etc.," Mark asked, "Can I meet you?"

"First, I need to know for what reason," I said.

Apologetic for not explaining himself completely in the answering machine message, he told me about his Sarah Palin research. He'd learned that I'd written a story about her and he wanted to talk with me about it.

Figuring we'd hit the dead end of our encounter, I explained to him that if he looked closely at the story in Sandpoint Magazine, I had included very few first-hand sources, adding that the closest I'd come to the family was the previous year's Christmas letter sent out by Sarah's parents to their Sandpoint friends.

Mike Winslow, the downtown barber and friend of Chuck Heath, had provided me that document. The rest, I explained, came from museum research and talking to "people who knew people . . . . I explained that possible firsthand sources, especially those I knew up in Alaska, had dried up almost immediately after Sarah had been named as Sen. John McCain's Vice Presidential candidate.

"I'm afraid I would not be of much value to you," I told him.

"Okay," he said, "but I'd still like to meet you and talk to you about Sandpoint, the place where she was born."

Agreeing that I could certainly talk about Sandpoint, I asked, "Okay, where do you want to meet and when?"

We still haven't finalized that, but it will be sometime, some place this morning after I finish my chores and make sure everything's going okay with my mother.

After our conversation yesterday, I thought about the article I wrote for the Idaho Press Tribune, focusing on Sarah and her birthmates, Joe Parenteau and Tom Albertson. I figured Mark would enjoy reading that story. Later, I remembered the interview I saw in last week's latest edition of the SHS Cedar Post and figured I'd send him over to Willie to get a copy of that.

After all, I've been told, that was the only interview she granted during her visit to Sandpoint in December. Certainly, the venerable German weekly would love to review the works of a high school student who landed the big interview with the biggest name ever to be hatched in Sandpoint.

So, I look at the two reasons this man wanted to talk to me, and I see both topics as journalism gifts that keep on giving. I've had several experiences visiting with outside writers curious about Sandpoint.

Barbara Sofer, for example, a noted journalist in Jerusalem, came several years ago on a Women's Day assignment when I was advising the Cedar Post. We met for an hour or two and became good friends, via cyberspace, comparing our journalistic adventures and talking family. I also learned a lot about her religious rituals.

My meeting with Laura Finnegan, the Sunset Magazine editor, along with three other locals, a few years back, was notable. The resulting short piece about the West's Best Small Town's, gleaned from a morning walk around town, put Sandpoint on the national and world map in a very favorable light. Other media followed as did newcomers.

Most recently, I enjoyed a day spent with Rich Benjamin, a fellow at a New York-based think tank called Demos. Rich's extended visits to this area and three others in Utah, Georgia and New York, provided the fodder for his recently released book Searching for Whitopia. We've kept in touch ever since.

So, yes, Sandpoint is a journalism gift that keeps on giving, and when I talk about the place, I try to dispel the untrue stuff that has been so recklessly spread "out there" by those I refer to as "hit-and-run" journalists.

Often, they show up, go talk to some people in the bars, get a few correct and a few questionable but hot-button facts, enjoy the beauty and head back to wherever, writing whatever they wish, skewing it however they want and feeling no remorse when facts are wrong. After all, it's been a one-night journalist stand, and they're off to the next story.

Sarah Palin has certainly turned into a huge journalistic gift, and she continues to do so. Like her or hate her, people would certainly agree that virtually any move she makes incites news and public interest. I remember sitting in the museum one day, shortly after her name hit the national and world headlines, suggesting that any trivia connected to Sarah be collected.

I still believe that. And, I also still and will always cringe about my most public and worst journalistic error, which occurred when I photographed the WRONG house as Sarah's first home in Sandpoint. I knew at the time the error was revealed that it would come back to haunt me, and many times over.

As the Sarah gift continues to give generously to all the curious writers throughout the world, Sandpoint and that original home of hers behind Safeway will continue to conjure up interest. And, this old gal, who screwed up, will have to contend with the fact that her photographic blunder was tantamount to the Original Sin for journalists.

After all, my mistake started it all, and it will have to be explained over and over and over as these writers visit our fair city. "No, it's not that house; it's the one next door."

I don't know what today's meeting with Mark of Der Spiegel will entail, but you can be sure I'll make sure he knows which one is the right house where Sarah lived her first few months.

Stay tuned.