Pulitzer's Gold: Behind the Prize for Public Service Journalism

18. Everybody's Business

          Everybody’s Business “How shameful it is for the Knight family and its organ, The [Charlotte] Observer, to take the side of OSHA and the oppressive bureaucrats against the magnificent Southern textile industry. It is sickening to see the gutless minions of the news media siding with a few crybaby Americans who obviously are looking for a handout from the very hand that fed and clothed their families. —W. B. Pitts, president, Hermitage Inc., Camden, South Carolina Uusiness and technology were on the mind of every reporter and editor in the s, if only because computers were taking over their newsrooms. The machines on their desks started carrying names like IBM or Apple rather than Remington , Royal, or Underwood. The once-incessant clacking of typewriter keys— used in the movie version of All the President’s Men to suggest machine-gun-like media firepower—did, in fact, cease. The muted tapping that replaced it reminded journalists of the sound of calculators. Overnight, the newsroom turned as quiet as an insurance office. The lack of clamor was deceptive. Reporters were still inspired to pursue investigations in the spirit of Watergate. The best newspapers remained both vigilant and aggressive, and increasingly they created either formal or informal teams to pursue major projects. Reporters also added computer-assisted reporting to their arsenal . When the Anchorage Daily News won its second Gold Medal in , Howard Weaver—by then the managing editor—was using a Macintosh to crunch statistical data that illustrated the plight of native Alaskans. The computer also helped coordinate assignments and deadlines for his far-flung staffers. Compare that to the system used to plot out its  series on the Teamsters. “We drew flow charts with colored pencils to show inter-relationships amongst people,” says Weaver.  Public Service Prize–winning stories delved into a range of topics in the decade. Two were religion stories, two looked closely at ethnic groups, and two involved the armed services. Reporters especially dug into what they called the business angle of the stories. But these were not the classic General Motors, Xerox, or Microsoft articles from the financial pages. Rather, newspapers explored the corporation ’s role in environmental affairs and the military-industrial complex, and even delved into the finances of churches. The classic government corruption stories of city hall graft or malfeasance in the statehouse faded from the list of winners. But federal agencies and the military came in for plenty of questioning, as did various jurisdictions implicated in damaging the health and welfare of Americans. In  the Pulitzer board expanded the number of journalism categories to fourteen, essentially creating the award lineup that would take the Pulitzers into the new century. Two divisions described the changing way newspapers were approaching their projects: Explanatory Reporting and Feature Writing. Another area, Specialized Reporting, would be called Beat Reporting in . Editorial Writing and Public Service remained the granddaddies of the Pulitzer journalism awards. Two Cheers for Charlotte Knight Ridder’s Charlotte Observer had a pair of Pulitzer winners in the s. In  the Observer’s staff became intrigued with health issues in the giant Carolina textile industry. Factory workers intimately knew the plague of nearly invisible cotton dust that led to an asthmalike condition known as byssinosis, or “brown lung.” But government, industry, and even medical professionals seemed to ignore the problem. The idea for the Observer’s stories actually originated with the textile workers’ union, a source that editor Richard Oppel viewed suspiciously . “In a way this was the wine from poisonous fruit, because the union had an ax to grind,” he says. “But I’m a believer that you don’t discount information as long as it’s verified. A fact is a fact, wherever you get it from.” Over months of investigation, a team of reporters, led by veterans Howard Covington and Marion Ellis, studied the potential dangers of cotton dust. Medical reporter Bob Conn and Robert L. Drogin also participated, along with Washington correspondent Robert Hodierne. Deep into the research, they remained stumped because of the lack of a proved link between the dust and various established ailments . But state government regulations were designed to limit exposure to the dust, and inspections were not being performed as required. That much was clear. The paper was able to document obvious cases of workers affected by exposure                      to cotton dust, and the Observer used photographs extensively to illustrate their plight. “The pictures showed...