The crisp suits and tuxedos are put away, the gowns and evening dresses are hung as well. America’s journalists have packed their finest threads for another year, and the shining plaques and embossed certificates that prompted such fashion displays are already up on shelves, bookcases and desktops across this wide nation.
This is because journalism’s two-month season of giving itself awards recently ended; everything from Pulitzers to proclamations went out in rapid order, ranging in purpose from national recognition to just a pat on the back. It’s an unabashedly narcissistic season in which we journalists look back at our work to see what we did best, or did right, this past year, and try to justify among ourselves the value and importance of it.
Absent unimpeachable proof from our readers and viewers that they think we’re doing the right thing, it’s the optimum means of self-gratification available to us.
And yet, the implied veracity has come into question with me. Thanks to a particular incident, I wonder, especially now, how many of those honors truly recognized laudable effort — or whether they are the result of cash guarantees.
I didn’t use to wonder. As president of the St. Louis Chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists, part of my responsibility has been to assist other SPJ chapters in evaluating submissions for their annual awards, so they could avoid the appearance of currying favors from friends and colleagues. To juxtapose even more space between thought and deed, SPJ urges contest administrators to seek that assistance well away from their chapters’ membership areas. The closest chapter I assisted this year was a six-hour drive from me.
This year, my third consecutive as a judge, I volunteered to assess submissions for five different competitions — one of them national and four regional, or two more competitions than last year. Looking back, I’m sure though that one of those chapters won’t ring up my number again.
Before the explanation, a little background: Besides recognizing excellent work and stroking egos, awards contests can rake in a lot of money. Organizers often attach entry fees per submission, ranging from a few bucks to tens of dollars, ostensibly to offset administrative costs but also to generate operating funds for the chapters. For example, imagine a particular award category attracts two dozen entries. Charging $10 per entry nets a fast $240 in pocket for a chapter before even the invitations go out.
Multiply that by, say, 80 categories spread across the spectrum of print, televised and digital media, and the chapter is looking at potentially thousands of dollars to not only spend on impressive looking plaques and certificates to hand out at tony venues where food is served and fashions much nicer than office wear is de rigueur, but also bank a few bucks for other special events, scholarships and professional training.
This kind of thing is not unique to journalism; awards are handed out in much the same way across the scope of professions, each with its own rationale for assessing fees. One would think though that journalism, prominent among them, eschews guarantees of praise to go with those payments, if only to ensure the notion that its award-giving smacks of the same objectivity attempted in its news coverage.
Think again. As my award-judging obligation wound down I received an email from a contest organizer who was dismayed with my selections — not so much regarding my overall judgment as the lack thereof for a handful of categories. In other words, where I judged the entries to be wholly substandard, I left the category blank, ensuring no award.
“Perhaps I was unclear in my instructions, and for that I apologize,” the contest organizer wrote to me about a week after I made my choices. “These entrants paid the submission fee. We should show that they are getting something for their fee.”
Absent that, he continued, they may decide to not make submissions for future contests. And we need the money; the awards are central to our fundraising efforts.
I tried to shore up my position by reminding him that the five reporting categories I left blank had just one or two entries total for three potential awards — first, second, third and honorable mention — and that the entries themselves were laughably far off the award-winning mark: unenterprising, perhaps culled from batch-distributed public relations announcements and devoid of sourcing that might prove to me the reporters attempted to verify a shred of their PR content. In a couple instances, what struck me was that the florid wording of the original PR release had oozed through into the story.
Granted, I was not certain of the story origins. But after 30 years in this business, much of it spent coaxing good writing from bad, I have come to recognize patterns of writing, and that recognition is fairly bankable.
The awards organizer, perhaps immune to my argument, graciously deflected my concern.
“We appreciate your time and effort,” he wrote back. “Please send back the entries you judged for the categories in question, and we’ll have the awards committee review your decisions.”
I did as advised, and a few weeks later I checked the contest website for the results. Sure enough, there were the categories I had judged and left blank newly filled with winners in each and with carefully worded platitudes attached. The circle of this particular contest remained unbroken, no matter my noble intent.
Maybe I’m may be part of a dwindling contingent that believes awards and honors should recognize true exceptionality. The Pulitzer committee, at least, is a member of this group, charging $50 per Pulitzer-prize entry while not at the same time issuing awards like a supermarket coupon dispenser. That entry fee opens the door to contestants; it doesn’t ensure them one of the silver-and-gold medallions.
When any of us promise awards for the price of entry, no matter the profession, we cheapen not just the award but also the work it was intended to honor. The organizers for all journalism awards need to keep that in mind, lest their efforts to distribute praise and bolster funds also chip away the foundation of journalism’s credibility.
