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WHAT'S A NEWSPAPER TO DO WHEN A plague of murders strikes its town? Is it enough, in the words of Detroit Free Press publisher Neal Shine, to "wait until the shooting stops then ride in and count the bodies"? He tried that last year with a hard-hitting series called "Children in the Crossfire." But the pile of clips didn't satisfy Shine. So this year he launched "Children First," a Free Press project that does everything from chronicling urban tragedy to organizing pro bono lawyers to help endangered kids. The paper's special "Summer Dreams" issue in April raised $500,000, which the Free Press used to send children to summer camps and invest in other safe, supervised activities. "It sure as hell isn't journalism," says Shine, "but journalism wasn't working."
Even some editors less zealous than Shine agree that newspapers, in these murderous times, must take extraordinary steps. Washington Post ombudsman Joann Byrd recently called for the Post to wage a crusade. Readers would get front-page summaries of homicide statistics and reporters would pester "all people in sight" for good ideas. "Don't the stakes require everybody to try everything?" asked Byrd.
The Chicago Tribune, in effect, anticipated Byrd's idea and pledged last January to "not let the murder of a single child in our metropolitan area go unnoticed" during 1993. The promise was prompted by the death of Dantrell Davis, a 7-year-old who was shot while walking to school. The Chicago media made Davis into a symbol of innocence lost. In an angry front-page letter, Chicago Sun-Times editor Dennis Britton noted that Davis was the third child from the same school to be murdered in the past several months. "Dantrell Davis was our child, Chicago," Britton wrote. "We let him down."
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His motivation, Britton later said, was his own sense of disappointment. After the shooting, he had waited for Chicago's "worthy leaders" to rise in outrage; but "not a peep" was heard. So the Sun-Times roared.
Though upstaged by the Sun-Times's passionate prose, the Tribune resolved not to be outdone. Chronicling the experiences of other murdered Chicago-area children struck Tribune editors as a good device for getting to the broader story. The victims, the Tribune quickly found, were not all troubled inner-city youths killed by thugs. Some were battered children who were shaken to death or, in one case, flung into a wall. The Tribune sought to not only document the children's deaths but to illuminate their lives, while highlighting promising antiviolence projects.
Though linked together in a common cause, the Chicago papers have not ended their traditional rivalry. To some on the Sun-Times, the Tribune series is a massive "awards hunt," while some on the Tribune think that the Sun-Times is laying claim to a story no one paper can own. 'This is not the Sun-Times's story. This is not the Chicago Tribune's story. This is an ongoing tragedy that is everyone's story," declares Tribune reporter Frank James.
Last month the SunTimes offered a one-year retrospective on events since Davis's death. Chicago's children were dying at a faster rate than in 1992, noted the Sun-Times. Yet, crime had plummeted in the neighborhood where Davis lived. "At ground zero, where a sniper's bullet ended Dantrell's life, there has been progress. Now we must spread that hope of peace throughout the community," wrote Britton.
Inevitably' the mixed results of the media crusade raise questions about how effective such campaigns can be. Some critics think massive publicity can even make things worse. After the press leapt on the story of a mother charged with hanging her 3-year-old son, Illinois lawmakers rushed through legislation making it easier to take children away from abusive parents. It was modified under pressure from the governor, who thought the bill too broad. Bad bills, says Illinois ACLU lawyer Ben Wolf, can be "one of the dangers of whipping up a lot of public sentiment."
Indeed, for all the good intentions, it is not at all clear how much good the press can do when it comes to something as massive and convoluted as urban violence. At best, newspapers can raise a little money, highlight some promising programs. focus on symbolic individuals, push for legislation and, mostly, raise holy hell about the problem in the hope that the public will decide it is worth solving.
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