A little over a week ago, my colleague Peter Cowan found himself in a fairly odious situation. In the middle of a scrum with federal Conservative candidate Peter Penashue, Cowan became a target.
Cowan was simply doing his job by asking Penashue to explain the finer details of the florid election spending that led to Penashue’s resignation from cabinet and Parliament. Penashue has yet to give a full account of that to provincial media. He didn’t give it to Cowan. But Penashue did give Cowan a piece of his mind.
“The reason why I won't be very specific with you, Peter, is because I don't think you've treated me very fair, you didn't treat me fair right from the get go," said Penashue, in an exchange you can see here. “I’m concerned about Peter Cowan, and CBC. CBC hasn't been fair to me."
"I think we've absolutely been fair to you, Mr. Penashue," Cowan replied.
Penashue replied, "CBC and Liberals are like family, for some strange reason."
Cowan is an excellent journalist. His coverage of Penashue’s election spending has earned him multiple regional and national journalism award nominations. This likely isn’t the first time a politician has erupted on him and it certainly won’t be the last. If you cover politics in this province for any length of time you earn a lot of scars.
My first encounter like this came early in my career. It was a run-in with a now retired Liberal politician. There was none of the family-vibe that Peter Penashue seems to believe is present in such CBC-Liberal encounters.
I was working exclusively in radio at the time and was fairly new to covering politics. After a lengthy — and sometimes tense — scrum with this politician, I was heading up to the house of assembly press gallery to file my daily story.
As I walked towards the stairs, a hand gripped my shoulder and forced me to turn around. The next thing I knew, Mr. Liberal had a tight grip on my forearm and was shoving me forcibly into a wall. The index finger of his free hand started jabbing me in the chest.
“If you think anybody on our side of the house takes you seriously, you’re kidding yourself,” he said. “You’re a joke.”
It wasn’t pleasant. We stared each other down in silence as a handful of legislative staff and even some MHAs watched the whole thing. It felt like the childish prelude to a schoolyard fight by the bike racks.
The stare-down lasted for what seemed like an hour, but eventually the grip loosened. I pulled my arm away, walked up the stairs and filed my story.
I didn’t report the incident on the news. But I never forgot it. And I didn’t let it intimidate me.
The pin's out of the grenade
Years later, I had a public blow-up with then-premier Danny Williams. He wasn’t happy with a series of stories I broke about a fundraising dinner being organized to pay off the personal debts of former St. John’s Mayor Andy Wells. Williams had just appointed Wells to chair the Public Utilities Board and these fundraising efforts were being criticized as a significant conflict of interest.
I knew Williams was mad at me the minute he came out of the legislature to speak with reporters about the story. There was a lot of jaw-clenching and shoulder-rolling.
Those were telltale signs that the pin was out of the grenade. It ended with Williams walking away from the scrum after a handful of questions. As he made his way for the exit, he turned to his communications director, pointed at me, and said, “You make sure that he gets cut off.” It was a tense moment.
This happened in the spring of 2008. Outside of the Q&A of media scrums, Williams and I didn’t speak for months. Not even a simple ”hello” as we passed each other in the hallway. It eventually blew over and we could be reasonably friendly with each other again.
But from that point on, I never got a one-on-one interview with Williams until he resigned as premier in late 2010.
Comes with the territory
Incidents like this happen all the time for reporters, but political reporters in particular. Our happy hour gatherings are full of stories of screaming phone calls, angry emails or public humiliations at the hands of powerful public figures. It comes with the territory. It may intimidate some reporters. It may even convince them to change their reporting style.
But here’s something it can’t change: the facts.
For all of Peter Penashue’s complaints about Peter Cowan’s reporting, the fact remains that Labrador is in the middle of a byelection because a scandal cost Penashue his job. The fact remains that Penashue was elected in the first place with the help of illegal campaign contributions. The fact remains that Penashue signed off on the initial return filed with Elections Canada. The fact remains that Penashue is now fighting an uphill battle to save his political career.
Telling off Peter Cowan doesn’t change any of that.
Original Article
Source: CBC
Author: David Cochrane
Cowan was simply doing his job by asking Penashue to explain the finer details of the florid election spending that led to Penashue’s resignation from cabinet and Parliament. Penashue has yet to give a full account of that to provincial media. He didn’t give it to Cowan. But Penashue did give Cowan a piece of his mind.
“The reason why I won't be very specific with you, Peter, is because I don't think you've treated me very fair, you didn't treat me fair right from the get go," said Penashue, in an exchange you can see here. “I’m concerned about Peter Cowan, and CBC. CBC hasn't been fair to me."
"I think we've absolutely been fair to you, Mr. Penashue," Cowan replied.
Penashue replied, "CBC and Liberals are like family, for some strange reason."
Cowan is an excellent journalist. His coverage of Penashue’s election spending has earned him multiple regional and national journalism award nominations. This likely isn’t the first time a politician has erupted on him and it certainly won’t be the last. If you cover politics in this province for any length of time you earn a lot of scars.
My first encounter like this came early in my career. It was a run-in with a now retired Liberal politician. There was none of the family-vibe that Peter Penashue seems to believe is present in such CBC-Liberal encounters.
I was working exclusively in radio at the time and was fairly new to covering politics. After a lengthy — and sometimes tense — scrum with this politician, I was heading up to the house of assembly press gallery to file my daily story.
As I walked towards the stairs, a hand gripped my shoulder and forced me to turn around. The next thing I knew, Mr. Liberal had a tight grip on my forearm and was shoving me forcibly into a wall. The index finger of his free hand started jabbing me in the chest.
“If you think anybody on our side of the house takes you seriously, you’re kidding yourself,” he said. “You’re a joke.”
It wasn’t pleasant. We stared each other down in silence as a handful of legislative staff and even some MHAs watched the whole thing. It felt like the childish prelude to a schoolyard fight by the bike racks.
The stare-down lasted for what seemed like an hour, but eventually the grip loosened. I pulled my arm away, walked up the stairs and filed my story.
I didn’t report the incident on the news. But I never forgot it. And I didn’t let it intimidate me.
The pin's out of the grenade
Years later, I had a public blow-up with then-premier Danny Williams. He wasn’t happy with a series of stories I broke about a fundraising dinner being organized to pay off the personal debts of former St. John’s Mayor Andy Wells. Williams had just appointed Wells to chair the Public Utilities Board and these fundraising efforts were being criticized as a significant conflict of interest.
I knew Williams was mad at me the minute he came out of the legislature to speak with reporters about the story. There was a lot of jaw-clenching and shoulder-rolling.
Those were telltale signs that the pin was out of the grenade. It ended with Williams walking away from the scrum after a handful of questions. As he made his way for the exit, he turned to his communications director, pointed at me, and said, “You make sure that he gets cut off.” It was a tense moment.
This happened in the spring of 2008. Outside of the Q&A of media scrums, Williams and I didn’t speak for months. Not even a simple ”hello” as we passed each other in the hallway. It eventually blew over and we could be reasonably friendly with each other again.
But from that point on, I never got a one-on-one interview with Williams until he resigned as premier in late 2010.
Comes with the territory
Incidents like this happen all the time for reporters, but political reporters in particular. Our happy hour gatherings are full of stories of screaming phone calls, angry emails or public humiliations at the hands of powerful public figures. It comes with the territory. It may intimidate some reporters. It may even convince them to change their reporting style.
But here’s something it can’t change: the facts.
For all of Peter Penashue’s complaints about Peter Cowan’s reporting, the fact remains that Labrador is in the middle of a byelection because a scandal cost Penashue his job. The fact remains that Penashue was elected in the first place with the help of illegal campaign contributions. The fact remains that Penashue signed off on the initial return filed with Elections Canada. The fact remains that Penashue is now fighting an uphill battle to save his political career.
Telling off Peter Cowan doesn’t change any of that.
Original Article
Source: CBC
Author: David Cochrane
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