BLATCHFORD’S LAYTON COLUMN: TIMING IS EVERYTHING

The tone is insensitive, but there’s some gleanable insight, too.

Saw, earlier today, that National Post columnist Christie Blatchford was trending big time on the Twitter machine, so I decided to, after reading some of the vitriol that was being hurled her way, see what all the fuss was about.

If you haven’t read her quick-to-become infamous column reflecting on the death of Jack Layton, and the media coverage of it, please have a look and then come back for my views on it.

In a general sense, my overall feeling after reading the column (several times) was one of unease, due to its insensitive nature and timing. However, in a more detailed sense, I find myself carrying a number of view points, not the least of which is that the column has its flaws, certainly, but also some thoughtful insight. I do believe that some have misinterpreted the column as an all-out attack on the memory of the man when, really, it appears to me to be, primarily, a damning of the media coverage of Layton’s passing.

Exclusive to that, I’m again dumbfounded by the electronic “stoning” that goes on with the age of instant messaging. Blatchford is certainly a target of that right now — check the Twitter postings or comments under her column in The Post. I won’t cover that ground again here, but suggest my column on the case of hockey agent Todd Reynolds may be an appropriate companion.

There is plenty of insensitivity to go around in her piece — good lord, does one really have to refer to Layton in his last public appearance as appearing “cadaverous” on the very day he died? Does one really need to refer to the recently deceased’s last public note as “vainglorious” even as those who feel his loss most are only beginning to mourn? I’d suggest you might wait a day or two on that one.

To say that there’s nothing unusual about the outpouring of public grief over his loss is a bit laughable. It is, of course, not usual at all for this kind of thing to happen. Many, many people die every day and it doesn’t spark public gatherings of a national sort. It is an indicator of how strongly some people feel about Layton. Blatchford’s insistence that the age of Facebook and Twitter and instant messaging somehow diminishes the spontaneity and number of people who gathered to honour Layton rings hollow. You can message me a thousand times about something, but if I don’t frankly give a damn about you or your cause, I’m not showing up.

Still, I believe Blatchford is not entirely off in her assessment of the story. Perhaps just the characterization of it. Her damning of the media coverage is also not entirely off the mark, although there, too, she occasionally shows a misunderstanding of the job and demands of a live anchor. She particularly gives a rough ride to CBC’s Evan Solomon.  She’s correct in her assertion that Prime Minister Harper’s remarks of the day needn’t have been solely focussed on Mr. Layton.

As well, I think Blatchford has struck an incisive note when she muses on the attachment people in the modern age have for someone they don’t know personally. That is either testament to the power of modern media (nice call, Marshall McLuhan) or to something else. Perhaps a longing by people to attach to someone who they believe exhibits a trait or traits to which they can easily relate or praise.

Her noting of a certain inauthenticity when it comes to media people waxing on about a person they may have only met briefly or interviewed once is bang on. Happens all the time. Regrettably, I’m sure I’ve been guilty of it too.

However, when she criticizes Solomon for his repeated use of the word “extraordinary” in reference to Layton’s final letter (a term that she agreed was actually appropriate) or his “repeatedly” speaking of the difficulty as “we all try to cope” with the news of Layton’s passing, Blatchford illustrates either a disregard for or, as I say, ignorance of the job of a live broadcaster during an unfolding story of great drama. When you’re live, and anchoring ongoing coverage, you’ve a duty to an audience that is changing. Tuning in, tuning out. In service of that, it’s quite necessary to be a trifle repetitive to the ears of those who don’t stray. It’s a little different from print where you write it once, edit it a time or two and then send it out to the world in its static form. There’s no delete button on a live broadcast. The story doesn’t end when you type the last period and hit “send.”

Blatchford asks a question that I think is an easy one to answer. She wrote:

Who thinks to leave a 1,000-word missive meant for public consumption and released by his family and the party mid-day, happily just as Mr. Solomon and his fellows were in danger of running out of pap? Who seriously writes of himself, “All my life I have worked to make things better”?

I believe many, many people leave final messages. They do it for family, friends and colleagues. That message comes in different forms. A hug, a kiss, a word of wisdom, a video or a written message. Not very many do it for the public at large. Except public figures. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Jack Layton felt obligated to record some kind of sentiment; philosophical, political or otherwise, being that he was very much a public figure. As for the last line, I’m going to give Mr. Layton the benefit of the doubt and figure he meant that all his life he’s tried to make things, in his opinion, better. I don’t think he meant that he’s definitively made things better. So, the use of the word “vainglorious” to describe the missive is bit misdirected, in my opinion.

Blatchford is right about Layton’s message being political. So it can be embraced or attacked on its merit in those passages. Nothing wrong with her taking umbrage with his line about Canada restoring “our good name in the world.” Not everyone would agree we’ve lost that good name. As well, he takes a clear political shot at the Conservatives. So, his final words include, as you’d expect, some politics. You can call that vain or cynical, or you can call it being a leader to the end. Whether she intended to or not, Blatchford’s characterization is that Layton was being a leader to the end. Sounds right to me.

While the Twitterverse has been quick to jump all over Blatchford for desecrating the memory of the man, it’s probably fair to point out that there are passages in her column that show admiration for Layton in some sense. For example:

His greatest moments — the bravest and most admirable — came during his fight with prostate cancer, the subsequent hip surgery and his most recent battle with the cancer, whose nature he never disclosed except to say it was new, which killed him.

He must have been in pain; he may have been afraid. Yet again and again, waving the cane that became in his clever hands an asset, he campaigned tirelessly.

Those are complimentary words and worthy of note.

In the immediate aftermath of the death of a beloved public figure, Christie Blatchford’s column is ill-timed. While there’s plenty to quarrel with in it, there’s also some insight that, when you peel away the veneer of insensitivity, just may ring true. Will the column look differently in 2 months?

[box border=”full”]To read SUN TV INTERVIEW ISN’T WORTH COMPLAINING ABOUT, click here.[/box]

[box border=”full”] To read THE MAMMOLITI GAMBIT: COUNCILLOR STRANGELOVE, click here.[/box]

[box border=”full”]To read WHERE IS MARSHALL MCLUHAN’S COUCH, click here. [/box]

 

THE NUTSHELL: Too Hot To Bother

A weekly feature, with a collection of random thoughts on random things.

THE HEAT

The Don Valley Parkway, Toronto, Ont. July 21, 2011. 4:48 pm.

My apologies if this version of “The Nutshell” is a little shorter. It’s just too hot to type. Maybe if I moved my computer inside from the top of my barbecue. It’s just that, no one on tv told me I shouldn’t word process in this heat, so I guess it’s okay. I mean, they CONSTANTLY remind you to put on sunscreen, stay hydrated and look for a place where you can cool off, but no mention of not blogging on the top of your barbecue. So, I’ll keep going. Seriously. Could everyone on TV, in radio and in print STOP telling us we need to wear sunscreen, drink water, find shade and “not overdo it”? Or, are there really people out there who would forget to drink something if they feel thirsty?

A guy on tv said we could go and cool off at “one of Toronto’s 3 world-class water parks.” I didn’t even know there were different classes of water parks. And we’ve got three WORLD-CLASS ones? Suck on that, Paris. Eat it, New York City. Hey, London, how many world-class water parks are you rockin’? Thought so. Go cool off in “the tube,” or something.

Weather guy put a block of ice on the station parking lot last night, as an experiment. He did some weather, then the camera came back to that block of ice a wee bit later. There was a slightly smaller block of ice there, with a small puddle of water underneath it. It was melting. Oh, my, look what the heat can do. Important to remember, folks. If you’re taking your pet block of ice for a walk in this weather, first slather it with some sunscreen. And keep it hydrated. Oh, and for God’s sake, don’t let that block of ice overdo it.

 SPORTS

Tiger and Steve. "Misty, water-hazard memories..."

Tiger Woods dumped his long-time caddie, Steve Williams. Big mistake, Eldrick. What if Steve decides to write a tell-all book and you come out looking…  never mind.

 

POP CULTURE

Yesterday marked the 100th anniversary of the birth of Canadian super-brain, Marshall McLuhan. All he did was predict the internet 30 years before it happened. He also predicted that the continued advancements in communication would shrink the planet into a global village. He DID NOT predict that Twitter would unleash legions of “Global Village Idiots” on us. Well, maybe he did. Meantime, I chatted with McLuhan’s son, Michael, and tried to track down Marshall’s old couch, yesterday. You can read about it in my blog: “Where is Marshall McLuhan’s Couch?”

POLITICS

President Obama auctions off the state of Delaware at a debt-ceiling charity dinner.

With the temperatures soaring on Thursday, all trains in Toronto had to travel much more slowly, because the heat was so great, it actually expanded the rails. This meant that gravy deliveries to City Hall were delayed. Not to mention that the heat curdled the gravy.

U.S. President Barack Obama gave a speech, today, on that country’s looming debt crisis. Said Obama, of the possibility of defaulting: “The United States doesn’t run out without paying the tab. We pay our bills.”  Let’s hope so. Because you know that if they get evicted from their country, they’re all gonna need a place to stay. And we’re the rich relatives right now.

Silvio Berlusconi was denied in his bid to have his sex trial moved from a Milan court. I wonder what strip club was he hoping to hold it in?

FINAL THOUGHT

Global warming? More like global scorching. Or scalding. Hell, I don’t know. That’s it! Global helling.

[box border=”full”]To read a previous THE NUTSHELL, click here.[/box]

 

[box border=”full”]To hear this week’s podcast, “The Gist Of It,” click here. [/box]

 

 

 

WHERE IS MARSHALL McLUHAN’S COUCH?

And As Importantly,  Am I Fit To Sit On It?

Funny how the dots sometimes get connected. I posted a tweet about Marshall McLuhan on this, the 100th anniversary of his birth. A friend of mine saw that tweet on Facebook. She sent me a message saying she knew McLuhan’s son, Michael, and that she’d once sat on McLuhan’s couch at a coffee shop, in Owen Sound. “Interesting,” I thought. “Wonder if that couch’s energy made anyone who sat on it instantly smarter. Or clairvoyant.”

Couple of clicks on the internet, a phone call from my cell (on which I pressed a little button and was able to record the conversation) and I had an interview with McLuhan’s son Michael.

Twitter. Facebook. Google. Cellphone. Internet blog. Voila. The mediums are the message. (The media are the messages would be grammatically correct, but not so clever, no?)

Marshall McLuhan. Bet he knew I'd write this blog.

Michael happened to be en route from the Owen Sound area, where he pursues his career as a photographer, to a Toronto event marking the anniversary of his famous father’s birth.

“Is it true,” I asked him, that one of your dad’s old couches made it’s way to a coffee shop in Owen Sound?”

“It was actually the couch out of the livingroom,” he replied, with a chuckle.

It was pretty old and beat up so I actually put it out on the curb for pick-up. I’d  thought of recovering it at one time, but it was quite costly. But, the landlord of the coffee shop came by and suggested he could find a really warm and loving home for it, so that’s where it went.

I paused. I felt excited. I actually felt like I wanted to go and sit on Marshall McLuhan’s old couch and, yes, would drive to Owen Sound to do it.

“Is it still there?”

“According to my wife, it’s not there any more.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” I replied.

“No, it was pretty old and ratty, you know? It was 50 years old. I’d put it in the basement for the kids to romp on.”

Stymied. Can’t hope to receive any magical, prophetic insights from the cushions upon which the great thinker had once sat. Obviously, that couch was much more a symbol for me than it was for Michael. “It was just a couch, you know?”

Just a couch. And I suppose Marshall was “just a dad.”  More on that couch later. First, some of Michael’s insights into his father, merely one of the greatest thinkers in communications history.

McLuhan On McLuhan

Could Marshall McLuhan have envisioned Twitter?

“Absolutely. Twitter is a Marshall McLuhan phenomenon.”

Michael McLuhan: ""It was just a couch."

When we think of McLuhan, two phrases immediately come to mind: “Global village” and “medium is the message.” At one time, they were called, or characterized, as theories or possibilities. Or even bunk, as was certainly thought by more than a handful of McLuhan’s contemporaries. For Michael, his father’s assertions never were in question.

“I’ve always seen it as a statement of fact, and not a theory. He wasn’t a futurist, by any means. He said in order to perceive the future one only has to live in the present. Problem with most people is they live in the past.”

Michael McLuhan feels some frustration surrounding the mythology of his famous father.

“There are a few things that are different from the public persona. In terms of the last couple of biographies…they’re picturing him as a more eccentric, if not nuts sort of person. He was very sane. He was very kind, very loving and very generous. He was very loyal to his friends. I think it’s wise for the world at large to go with the scholarship that’s out there, in terms of his work,  and ignore a lot of the peripheral crap.”

Did the chattering naysayers bother his father?

“It was something that he was quite used to living with. Did it make him happy?  No. But if his work wasn’t infuriating people, then he wasn’t doing his job.”

The conversation wound back toward the object of my obsession, the old couch. Did McLuhan allow his family to, as many of us do, perch on the old chesterfield and watch some boob tube?

“Of course he did. We watched television as a family. We gathered around the tv almost every night when I was a kid.”

Hard-hitting news, documentaries and brain food of that ilk?

“Perry Mason, Have Gun Will Travel, Car 54 Where Are You?, The Ed Sullivan Show… I don’t think there were a lot of news and documentary shows on at that time…late 50’s, early 60’s.”

Marshall McLuhan’s esteem for the visual medium (McLuhan would admonish me for that, he declared it a medium of audio and that the visual was less important) began to wane, says his son.

“By the late 60’s and early 70’s, he had a lower and lower opinion of television. He did move the TV into the basement. But all the kids had left home by then.”

Still, one can’t help but notice the possible symbolism of that move.

But wait…Back To That Couch

After my conversation with Michael, I’m not deterred. Maybe his wife is wrong. Maybe that couch is still there. So, I called The Bean Cellar, in Owen Sound, and spoke to the owner, Kay Robinson. Heartbreak. And hope.

“No, it’s not here, anymore. We had it for 3 or 4 years, but it’s gone.”

The Bean Cellar: Is it there?! Is it there?!

“It was a tacky, blue, floral patterned couch, in pretty rough condition. I’m sure it was wonderful in it’s day, but it was pretty worn out. “But I wanted it because of what it was, who it belonged to.”

Did she think the couch had any special karma?

“My then future daughter-in-law thought it was special. She was going to university at the time and did many assignments sitting on that couch because it made her feel inspired.”

Yes. The medium IS the message. In this case, the medium being a 50-something year old blue floral couch. Still out there. Still being honoured for what it is and for the man and family it once belonged to. Because Kay told me she didn’t trash that couch.

However, she can’t remember who got it. Just that it was someone who wanted it, like her, because of what it is and who it belonged to.

Somewhere in this great global village, Marshall McLuhan’s old family couch lives on. But where? Can the social media that he predicted, and exists today, help me find it? Tweet me. Facebook me. Email me. Get me on LinkedIn…. You know what?

We should dispense with all those “verbs.” Whenever we want someone to contact us, we should simply say “McLuhan me.”

Because the man knew the message.

 

[box border=”full”]To hear this week’s podcast “The Gist Of It,” click here.[/box]