Last Updated: May 26, 1999
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On journalism
Hometown photographers aren’t the paparazzi
Covering the ball game or a local car accident, daily
newspaper shooters are members of the community
By Hunter George
As they filed into the stadium in Tampa the day after Princess Diana’s
death to cover a football game, the photographers heard it.
"Here come the paparazzi!" fans jeered.
It was, perhaps, inevitable that local news photographers in Central
Florida would be blackened with the brush that painted that ugly scene
in Paris. All of us, journalists and non-journalists, were devastated by
Diana’s death and we were disgusted by the reports that she was being chased
by freelance photographers known as paparazzi.
The photographers at The Ledger felt the same way.
These photographers, who have lived and worked in our area for many
years, are realistic. They know that anybody with a camera will be considered
subhuman now by some.
That would be a shame. Because these folks are not paparazzi.
They are the people who take pictures every week in area classrooms,
who cover the high school ball games, who show the beauty of the birds
swimming in area lakes. They are the people who give us portraits of spring
training and who help raise money for the needy in the newspaper’s annual
giving campaign. They are the people who shoot the photos for the lifestyle
feature that helps civic groups carry out their programs for the community.
They also shoot crime and accidents and other incidents of misfortune
in which human beings are hurt, by themselves or by their fellow human
beings.
These things are part of our community, too, and thus they are part
of the professional lives of our photographers. The photographers, like
most of us, are uncomfortable seeing human misery. But they record it because
it is real and it is part of life in our area.
We have some policies about such coverage. We don’t publish photos of
uncovered bodies because we know that such photos of local residents are
especially sensitive. We also are sensitive to pictures of covered bodies,
for that matter.
When a newsworthy person dies and we cover the funeral, we try to be
sensitive in our choice of pictures. Inevitably, we will not please every
reader.
Even if we had the money, we wouldn’t buy the pictures that the paparazzi
sell to the European tabloids and to the National Enquirer.
Most American newspapers don’t pay people to tell a tale. They do pay
local free-lancers to help cover school sports and community news, but
they don’t pay the newsmakers to give them a story.
The photographers who follow celebrities are quite unlike the photographers
you see at community events. In Europe, they are especially aggressive.
There are, to be sure, such people in the United States, even here in Florida,
I am told.
A few years ago, when Diana visited Walt Disney World with her sons,
there were all sorts of photographers present. The Ledger’s Tony Ranze
took pictures of the royal family as they walked the streets of the Magic
Kingdom. Other photographers — real paparazzi — did more than that. They
took furtive shots with long distance lenses, showing the princess on a
balcony in her nightgown.
I asked Tony whether, in his 13 years here, he had ever been the first
person on the scene of an accident in which someone was injured. He said
he had not.
Then he added, "I can tell you what I think every one of our guys would
do. He’d help the victim."
I’d like to think that’s what any of us would do.
We don’t have anything like The Sun or the Daily Mirror in this country.
The Globe and Enquirer are pale imitations. I don’t think I’ve ever bought
a copy, although I do read the provocative headlines on the front pages
as I go through the grocery checkout line. Millions of Americans buy those
publications. That’s why the tabs pay so much to the paparazzi for their
pictures.
People who watch "Hard Copy" on television are doing their part to sustain
the cult of celebrity that feeds the paparazzi. Is that wrong? I don’t
know. I’m not qualified to judge.
To me, Diana was the most fascinating woman in the world. I watched
her wedding on television, enchanted with the real-life fantasy. I watched
her grow from a young bride to a mother. I watched her deal with her misery.
And I was happy that she seemed to be coming out of it.
I know why she was on more magazine covers than anybody else. She had
that beguiling smile, the head tilted down, the big eyes looking up.
This is going to turn out to be the world’s most notorious drunk-driving
accident. And if any of the photographers inhibited the rescue effort,
I hope are put away for a long time.
Meanwhile, we’re going to send our photographers to the stadium in Tampa,
and to the schools and to the serious accidents. We’re going to do the
best job we can covering the news in our area. Pictures and everything.
George is managing editor of The Ledger, Lakeland, Fla., where this
article originally appeared.
