Why Our Tale Struck Gold (When You Become the Lead Story, part 7)

As we rode a Portland Streetcar train home from the radio interview and video shoot at the PSU Urban Center late on the morning of Wednesday, Oct. 21, I glanced idly over at the collision site and noticed several Trimet trucks gathered there. That was probably a signal that the story was about to break publicly, but I didn’t realize it at the time.

When Carole and I got home, there were messages on Facebook and in my emailer that my post to BikePortland.org four nights before had borne fruit. A commentary uploaded by Jonathan Maus on his blog that Wednesday morning was the first notice on public media that something had happened at the Tilikum Crossing bridge a week and a half before. Maus reprinted most of my nearly five-day-old email to him, as well as his comments, which opened with: “It has happened. And I hate to say that I’m not surprised.”

He initially identified me only as “David L.,” the husband of the victim, whom he did not name at all. But Maus also sent me a private email to ask permission to release Carole’s name and whether I had any photographs of the site. I checked with Carole, who said yes to his request to use her name, and I sent him several photos with comments, which he used to update his online report later that afternoon.

Before we get to the media storm that unfolded later that afternoon, let’s look at the three critical elements that, in retrospect, made it possible for Carole’s ordeal -- unnoticed by any government or media entity for a week and more -- would not only make the local TV news reports that night, but (as it turned out) become the lead story.

If any of the following three items had been missing, the odds are high that we would not have made it on the news at all, let alone headline the evening reports on at least two local stations, KGW and KPTV Fox News … plus, our chance of getting reimbursed for our medical bills and lost income, as well as a shot at changing legislative and legal transportation policy, would have remained nil.

1. Location

The fact that the incident occurred on the brand-new, open-barely-a-month bridge was an essential selling point. As I had put it in my Facebook post four nights before, “my wife has the dubious honor of being the first (so far as we know) to be struck and injured by a vehicle” on the newest bridge in Portland in 42 years. Had a cyclist knocked Carole down anywhere else in the city, it probably wouldn’t have made the news.

In fact, since neither the police nor any public transportation agency had responded to the collision, and none of them had any record that it had occurred, I wondered whether Carole might not have been the first. How could anyone know?

2. The Video

The striking MAX platform video that fell into everybody’s lap on Wednesday as a result of the public information request I had submitted to Trimet the week before (though at the time I doubted anything would turn up) gave the stations some “red meat” to offer their viewers.

Video footage that catches and holds the eye is key for TV news producers and reporters. The classic adage, “If it bleeds, it leads,” is all too true, because local news attracts viewers (and increasingly, website hits and shares) only if it offers something to look at.

Even bad, boring video can trump an exciting story that’s merely recited by the news anchors and reporters we see every night. That’s why so many television news reports give you a neighbor, passerby, or distant relative of the victim who has nothing substantive to do with the event other than proximity, unfamiliar features, and a willingness to express shock or surprise on camera. In a sense, they tell the viewer what to feel by playing our role for us; they serve as a surrogate for the victim or his/her family, however tenuous.

Since these sudden, brief video stars typically have no training in public speaking, let alone time to prepare their comments about the event, they all tend to sound very much alike: “I never saw this coming” … “I can’t believe this would happen in our neighborhood” … “He seemed like a nice guy; very quiet, kept to himself” … “Somebody needs to do something about this!”, etc.

There’s no blood in the MAX platform video, but it clearly depicts a cyclist moving at high speed, and a person being knocked down like a tenpin. As KGW news reporter Christine Pitawanich chose to describe it, “a bicycle barrels through a red light….”

3. Slow News Night

The selection and preparation of stories for broadcast news is a never-ending, breathless gallop to find new material, beat the competition, and come up with a different angle on an ongoing social or political issue. The lineup and order of stories can (and probably does) shift radically at any moment if a robbery, nastier car crash, or sudden shift in the weather occurs across town … never mind a breaking story on the national front (another mass shooting!) or international stage (hurricane! earthquake! plane crash! invasion/bombing!) that gets thrust upon the local stations by their parent network and circumstances even minutes before the broadcast.

Without all three of the above coming together -- location, video clip of the collision, and little or no competition from other stories for the tiny news slot -- especially the last two at pretty much the same time, I suspect Carole’s injury event would never have made the news broadcasts, let alone appeared as the lead story. In that sense, at least, we were very lucky.

Read “When You Become the Lead Story, part 1” -- introduction

Read “When You Become the Lead Story, part 2” -- the setting and a bum steer

Read “When You Become the Lead Story, part 3” -- immediate aftermath

Read “Two-Plus Days in the Hospital (When You Become the Lead Story, part 4)

Read “The Search for Official Evidence (When You Become the Lead Story, part 5)”

Read “Going to the Media (When You Become the Lead Story, part 6)”