Category: Nightlife
FACTION NEWS: The day the media taught me it’s always wrong to be right
My first experience with an activist journalist came in 2019. I had traveled to Oregon’s state capitol in support of a small group of Republican state legislators. They had refused to appear for a vote, to prevent the Democrats from passing a hotly contested education bill.
This was a strategy the Republicans had used before. Oregon is a solid blue, Democrat-run state. Often, the only tool the Republicans had to stop a bad bill was to leave town and thus deny the legislature their quorum (the necessary number of legislators needed to vote).
Did she really hate Republicans so much, she couldn’t contain her rage for the 10 seconds she was required to listen to my answer? She was a professional news reporter.
So that’s what they did. The Democrats were up to their usual money-wasting, ideology-pushing ways. So the Republicans went AWOL.
Breaking the ice
Our busload of Republican volunteers — about 20 of us — unloaded at the state capitol.
There was media everywhere. The day before, the Democrats had threatened to send the state police after the rogue legislators and drag them back to the capitol building.
To this, one of our more salty, cowboy hat-wearing legislators responded: “Send bachelors and come heavily armed.”
This was about as colorful as politics got here in Oregon.
So that’s why we were there. To show the public that those renegade Republicans had the support of their constituents.
We’d been told to look presentable and interact with the media if possible. I was wearing glasses, a sweater, and a button-down shirt. I looked like a school teacher or maybe a writer (which I am) or one of those retirees who volunteers for things (which I also am).
We gathered in the crowded capitol building. There were reporters and camera crews scattered throughout. I felt like I should break the ice and go talk to one.
I spotted a TV crew from the Portland Fox affiliate. The reporter was dressed up, hair and makeup camera-ready. She was probably 45 years old. She appeared to be a seasoned, professional reporter.
So I walked over to her and said: “Do you guys need to interview a Republican? Do you want a quote?”
“Yeah, sure,” she answered.
Spirited debate
At this point, I was still very new to politics. To me, it still seemed like a game. Like a friendly competition. But that’s what I liked about it. I enjoyed being part of a team and engaging in spirited debate with the other team.
But I also believed in fair play and maintaining a sense of humor. That was my take on the present situation. It was funny. The outlaw Republican cowboys versus the non-binary, they/them Democratic elites? This was a great story!
Which was why it was getting so much attention. And why the capitol was packed with people. Even the national news was covering it.
Seethe the day
The cameraman lifted his camera onto his shoulder. I straightened my sweater and brushed my hair back with my hand.
The reporter asked if I was ready, and I nodded. They turned on the camera.
In her professional voice, the reporter asked me if the Republicans’ leaving town was the proper way to debate an education bill.
She pointed the microphone at me, and I answered, “They’re totally outnumbered. But most people agree with them. So I do think it’s an appropriate strategy.” Or something like that.
That was it. A couple sentences. Clean and simple. She was going to need a quote from someone on the Republican side, so I gave her one.
Not only that, I knew to look at her and not the camera as I spoke. To actually listen to her question before I answered. So it would look good on TV.
But that was the problem. When I looked into her face, she was glaring at me. She had this look in her eyes. It was a look I was not prepared for. I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen someone look at me like that.
It was a look of total hatred. Like burning, seething hatred. And it was leveled at me! And I was being cheerful and nice. I was helping her out!
Hate on the hour
That look on her face was disturbing. Once they turned the camera off, I just walked away.
What was this woman’s problem? Did she really hate Republicans so much, she couldn’t contain her rage for the 10 seconds she was required to listen to my answer? She was a professional news reporter. She was 45 years old!
If it were some 22-year-old who just graduated from “activist” journalism school, I could understand. But this was a grown woman. Had she never done this before?
Hey, lady: You’re not supposed to HATE people for having an opposing opinion. I DID YOU A FAVOR!
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Photo by Bob Riha Jr./Getty Images
‘Love’ wins
So now, several years have passed, and I see this same phenomenon almost every night on my local news. Not necessarily seething hatred. But something similar. Specifically: the constant messaging that any conservative position, on any issue, is — of course — totally evil. And that the left is always morally correct.
That’s what I saw in the eyes of that local Fox reporter. A total lack of perspective. A soulless fanaticism. She was like a “hate robot” with one mission: the annihilation of people like me!
Unfortunately, this behavior is commonplace now. The division continues to get worse. I don’t know what the solution is, except to point out that hating people, at this intensity level, can’t be good for your health. If you’re hating and seething, you’re probably hurting yourself more than anyone else.
When did America start going to bed so early?
There was a moment — maybe early 2000s? — when people began talking about a new frontier in American life.
I remember there was a “Nightline” episode about it and articles in magazines.
In Portland, where I live, the last 24-hour diner-style chain, Shari’s, closed all its restaurants earlier this year. Too dangerous to stay open that late.
They described a new territory that was open for exploration. A place where most people were still reluctant to go. But this new space held new opportunities and prospects for growth.
This new frontier was called “late-night America.” It wasn’t a geographical location. It was a time period. It occurred from approximately 11:00 p.m. to 6 a.m.
Crosstown traffic
The idea was as the world became more crowded, with more cars on the road, more people packing into office buildings every morning, a natural evolution was occurring.
People were opting to change their schedules to avoid the crowds. They were staying up later, working later, and beginning to inhabit late-night America.
These early adopters preferred a less hectic world, so they adjusted their lives toward the “off hours.”
Think of Midtown Manhattan at lunch time. The Seattle Fish Market at 9:30 am. Or your own city during afternoon rush-hour traffic.
Now think of all those places at 4 a.m. Pretty different, aren’t they? Not so crazy. Not so overwhelming.
The worst thing you might encounter at 4 a.m. is a garbage truck or an impatient jogging enthusiast with an early work schedule.
As more people began to see the obvious advantages of conducting their business and personal lives at a later hour, other businesses sprang up to serve them.
Instead of just one 24-hour restaurant in your town, now there were a dozen. Many gas stations went 24 hours as did convenience stores. Big cities added more night buses. Supermarkets began staying open until 11, then midnight, and then 1 a.m.
With more people inhabiting it, the late-night world became a more active place. It was fun working the late shift. It was easier to drive to work. The vibe was more relaxed. People weren’t in such a hurry.
San Francisco noir
I was always a night owl. My first job out of college I worked at a courier company in San Francisco. We did most of our business during normal hours, 9 to 5. But I quickly maneuvered myself into the swing shift position, coming in at 2:30 p.m. and staying until 11.
After 5, I was alone in the office. I routed the overnight shipping and spent the late hours on the phone with my cohorts at our company’s other branches in other cities.
The late-night crew got to know each other. We were the oddballs of our respective offices. We tended to be more eccentric, more interesting than the daytime employees.
When I was occasionally called in by my boss to work a normal 9-to-5 shift, I found the routine deeply disturbing.
Imagine waking up at 8 in the morning! Riding a packed, slow-moving bus downtown. Waiting in line for 10 minutes for a morning coffee. Standing in another line for a soggy sandwich at lunch.
All of this with robotic office workers crowded around me. Dan from sales. Sheila from billing. Their business outfits. Their terrible hairstyles. It was unbearable!
But to be on the late shift, alone in the office, with the radio on, my feet on the desk. That was heaven. And then leaving the building at 11, the downtown streets deserted, late-night San Francisco all to myself.
Truck stop scribbling
Later when I became a professional writer, I loved working in late-night cafes. Or 24-hour diners. Or truck stops, if there were one nearby.
I went there to work, but I liked having people around, a nice waitress, some foot traffic, someone to share a bit of conversation with.
Or on a bad weather night, there were the state troopers or the snowplow guys coming in from the cold at 2 a.m. for a hot coffee and a piece of pie — wasn’t that fun to be part of?
Thanks to late-night America, there were always such places available. It was a great time for a person like me. I always had somewhere to go. Some coffee to drink. And mostly good people to be around.
Closing time
By now, you probably know where this story is going. We are presently at the other end of the pendulum swing. Now NOTHING stays open late. Good luck finding a coffee shop that’s open after 4!
In Portland, where I live, the last 24-hour diner-style chain, Shari’s, closed all its restaurants earlier this year. Too dangerous to stay open that late. And nobody wants to work those hours.
The early-closing phenomenon had already begun before COVID, and then COVID finished the job.
Plus in many cities, there is now the constant presence of homeless and mentally ill people to contend with.
In response, business owners have decided it’s best to minimize their hours of operation. They lock their doors and lower their metal gates as soon as the sun goes down.
Last of the lounge lizards
Bars are still open, of course. But even that world is shrinking. Young people don’t go out as much these days. They have other ways to socialize, and they have multiple forms of entertainment right there in their homes.
Meeting people for romantic purposes was once the primary reason for being out late at night. But this seems to be on the wane as well.
Men are less eager to approach women in public places. And contemporary women, with careers and important jobs, don’t want to be out late at night. Swiping on dating apps during lunch hour is a much more efficient way to meet a potential partner.
Are there still jobs on the night shift? Sure there are. Trucking, loading, and delivering are still much easier during off-hours. But most of the other late-night jobs are … well … security guard, security patrol, security supervisor.
In other words, protecting people and property from the dangers of the night.
Goodnight, moon
So yeah, that last frontier? It’s closed.
For such a social space to function safely, you need a high-trust, high-functioning society. People need to feel safe. They need to trust each other.
Society is too fractured at the moment for that to happen. There is too much crime, too much drug abuse, too many zombies to venture into the dark.
But think of the romance lost! Think of the late-night walks you can’t go on. The moonlit skies you’ll never see. The late-night drives in a cozy car with the radio on.
These are not insignificant things for a culture to lose. The night should be ours. The night should belong to us.
