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In a recent gathering of Denver news people and others, discussion was had of Hollywood's historic treatment of the press, which usually is overly dramatic and often quite critical.
Consider, for instance, the drama that began as a stage hit, "The Front Page," and later became a screen classic, "His Girl Friday," set in the World War II period, starring Rosalind Russell as Chicago reporter Hildy Johnson and Cary Grant as her editor, Walter Burns.
The film is still celebrated for some of the sharpest lines of dialogue you'll ever hear. A particular favorite of mine is Hildy's scathing description of what is actually her own occupation (and once was mine), that is, a newspaper reporter.
Her title is "journalist."
"A journalist," Hildy says. "Now what does that mean? Peeking through keyholes. Chasing after fire engines. Stealing pictures off old ladies. Waking up people to ask them if Hitler's going to start another war....
"I know all about reporters, Walter. A lot of daffy buttinskys running around without a nickel in their pockets so a million hired girls and motormen's wives will know what's going on."
Is that true? Not entirely, but largely. I've been there.
Oh, I never stole a picture off an old lady. But more than once I persuaded some vulnerable person of a certain age to lend the newspaper a treasured portrait off her piano, promising it would be promptly returned after being copied in the photo lab.
And I meant it. And I expect it was. Returned, that is. But did I ever check to make sure? I don't remember doing that.
As for the "journalist" thing, I just heartily dislike that word. Always have.
The journalist doesn't chase fire engines, cover city hall, check politicians' police records or write obituaries. He aims at editorships, public acclaim, Pulitzers.
So let there be no "journalist" in my obituary, please.