"ANY CLUB THAT WOULD HAVE ME AS A MEMBER..."

ANY CLUB THAT WOULD HAVE ME AS A MEMBER...

I have been accepted into the Society of Professional Journalists. Li'l respect, please.

Their--our--magazine is entitled "Quill," redolent of a wooden desk in a wood-paneled study, of a learned (wo)man dressed in one of those cool great shirts that Macchiavelli is always pictured in, thinking...contemplating...writing. Repeat.

I expected an impressive acceptance ceremony along the lines of those given to Nobel Laureates. Maybe instead of the King of Sweden we'd have Ben Bradlee presiding over the whole thing, mace in hand seated on a throne. I'd be dressed in a tuxedo and would approach his Quill-ship in a slow reverent walk and bow to allow the membership medal to be draped around my neck. I'd be told the secret password that i'd whisper to gain entree into any newsroom in the country, "Don't Fake the Funk on a Nasty Dunk," or like that.

I imagined that after induction all of us new inductees--laureates--would proudly Mingle with our now peers, sipping champagne, discussing the ravages of carpal tunnel syndrome and attempting to insert our quills into any willing ink well.

It wasn't quite like that. I "applied" online, waited for the membership committe to vet my journalistic credentials, which took a whole week, and then was emailed an "acceptance letter." Oh, and I had to fork over some dough.

Then a week later I got my "membership card" printed on genuine stiff paper and looking like it and a thousand more were run off just that afternoon at the Kinko's down the street.

And then I got "Quill" (no article needed, just the noun). The subtitle of the June/July issue is "Emotional, Enlightening, Enthralling"(Emenen?). Huh? What is this a creative writing fraternity? Whatever happened to "All The News That's Fit to Print," or even "Fair, Balanced," and whatever-it-isn't, "Objective."

I thought "we" were just supposed to report and comment on the news and leave the Enthralling, Emotional stuff to that other "if it bleeds, it leads" electronic medium.

I got an email from SPJ dated 7-29 that, I am not making this up, began with "IF I RULED THE WORLD. Want power? Want prestige? Boy did you pick the wrong profession." You think?

This is what has become of The Press in 21st century America. It truly is the Fourth Estate or the Fourth branch of government except that this one has no checks and balances on it. Apparently you go to pencil school now with the thought of wanting to "rule the world," of acquiring "power" and "prestige."

We now have ink-stained wretches interviewing ink-stained wretches for news, talking head shows, not with politicians or, like, actual members of the government, but of wretches talking to other wretches.

The first email I got after my acceptance had the subject head of "College newspaper woes, FREE trips to Vegas, Jumpstarting a j-career." (emphasis in original). Maybe Quill's sub-head should be "If it ain't FREE, it ain't journalism."

My induction coincided with the Valerie Plame/Cooper/Miller affair. A real cause celebre with us. On July 5, I was sent a sober email sparely titled "Statement from the Society of Professional Journalists on Miller and Cooper cases" (Plame not mentioned: irrelevant to larger issue). Gravely, we were informed that sister Miller and brother Cooper might enter the Gray Bar Hotel on the morrow.

We were informed that The Newspaper Guild had asked its members to observe two minutes of silence at noon on July 6 in solidarity with the cause of outting a CIA agent under deep cover.

The author of the Statement, SPJ president Irwin L. Gratz, asked society members "and all journalists, to mark the appointed time as you see fit." Well, that's taking a stand!

President Gratz also asked "the public to ponder the potential impact of [the hoosegowing] on the practice of journalism in the United States."

Heeding my president's words I pondered and then I "mark[ed] the appointed time" as I saw fit. I responded with an email,

"At noon today I will be wearing a party hat and weilding noise-makers and if [at our annual convention in "Vegas"] in mid-October, brother Cooper and sister Miller are still in the hoosegow, I will observe a moment of silence for the rule of law."

Bitchy, thumb-in-your-eye, holier-than-thou juvenalia, I know. But hey, I'm a professional journalist now!

-Benjamin Bradlee, er Harris.