Joe McLaughlin, Reporter-at-Large
by Sy-Yeu Chern '01, E. Hanover, New Jersey

Sy-Yeu Chern '01 found the real reporters-at-large.

Joe steps off the elevator onto the second floor of the Daily Record building. "There are only two floors - you'd think they could do without an elevator," he comments as he strides down a short hallway. It opens up to a large, square room brightly lit by recessed fluorescent lights. A maze of waist-high partitions divides the room into dozens of rectangular workspaces. Two television monitors are suspended from the ceiling, tuned to CNN. "Only news, no sports, much to the dismay of our sports section," he grins. Taking off his green jacket, he opens the door to the coat closet on his right and hangs it neatly. He walks past a long conference table and greets a couple of his coworkers before settling into his cramped, four-by-seven cubicle. It's ten o'clock in the morning, yet the office is relatively empty. "People straggle in and out all day on various assignments. But by four or five, everybody usually is back so they can get their stories written by deadline," he explains, the Jersey accent giving a musical lilt to his voice.

After checking his voice mail and email and finding nothing urgent, he looks at his week book to see what assignment he's scheduled for himself that day. "Dry-run for 'Day in the Life' at Roxbury. Watch play rehearsal @ 2:30, Roxbury High School" it reads under Wednesday, January 5. Then he checks the story list posted daily by the editors to see if they've thrown anything new his way. "Business Forecast" is written under the names of several reporters.

"About that, Joe," a voice says, "I need to meet with you, Clementina, and John to give you some background." It's Paul Perruzzi, the assistant metro editor. The four assemble at one end of the conference table. The ruddy, weathered complexion of the editor contrasts sharply with the fresh, unlined faces of the staff writers that surround him. Most of the reporting staff is 20-something: with no families to provide for or mortgages to pay, they don't care as much about the money. Also, they have the energy to work the 12-hour days that the business sometimes calls for. Joe fits that category, his youthful appearance the source of many friendly jokes in the office. Despite his obvious ease in his white, button-down shirt, conservative tie, and Dockers khakis, he still gives off the impression of a high school student dressed up for a semi-formal.

Paul gives a quick rundown of the project, and they all go their separate ways. Joe returns to his desk and extracts a list of phone numbers for the Chambers of Commerce from his file cabinet. Rolling up his sleeves, he picks up the phone and begins calling. "Hi, this is Joe McLaughlin from the Daily Record." Making small talk, he asks about the person's holiday season to put him at ease. Most people are wary of reporters, so being friendly and open tends to get better results. However, it doesn't work this time, and he keeps getting transferred from office to office. Finally finding someone who's willing to talk, he cradles the phone between his right ear and his shoulder to free his hands. He types cryptic notes on his outdated Compaq Deskpro as the person gives his predictions for the local businesses in the new year.

The sunshine streams brightly through the large, rectangular windows and reflects off the class ring Joe wears on the fourth finger of his right hand. It is a gold ring with a blue stone and has "Class of 1997" inscribed on one side. He rubs his tired, pink-rimmed eyes, leans back in his green swivel chair, and crosses his arms over his chest. Covering the mouthpiece, he says, "God, this guy is just so boring." Rolling his eyes and pointing at the phone, he says, "This is my job. I have to make putting up a new Toys 'R' Us sound interesting." Managing to interject once more, he thanks the man for his time and hangs up. Stretching his arms above his head, he hears John call his name and turns to face him.

"Hey, Joe, I have this contact at the Hanover Chamber of Commerce if you want to get in touch with him. It might help you out," John offers. He sorts through a stack of business cards, picks one out, and hands it over. "Just keep the card - I won't be needing it anymore." John will be leaving in a few days to start a new job writing for an online newspaper.

"It may be the new wave of the future," Joe notes, "but I think people need a physical connection to the world around them - a newspaper to hold, you know, as opposed to just looking at a computer screen or watching the news." A hint of disgust creeps into his voice as he continues. "I actually studied broadcast journalism at Syracuse. It's awful. There's no depth to it - the reporters don't really care about the people involved. They just show up with their camera guy, shove the microphone in someone's face, get their five minutes of footage, and leave. You have to sell your soul to work in that business." Shaking his head, he rolls his chair up to his computer and picks up the phone. "Hi, this is Joe McLaughlin from the Record. We're doing our annual business forecast, and I was wondering if you could help me out."

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