Conversation gives way to confrontation

One of the first things I was taught as a young journalist coming into the business in the waning days of the Reagan administration (or as my 11-year-old twins describe it, when dinosaurs and Daddy walked the Earth) was an old expression shared by sportswriters dating back at least a century: “No cheering from the press box.”

Quite simply, it means a reporter is solely an observer and should not participate in any way in an event he or she is reporting on. I have to admit it has become harder and harder over the years for me to follow that axiom, however, as the level of decorum for many of the local and county groups we cover seem to hit new lows each and every week.

I may have in the past interjected a comment here and there at a meeting or event, almost always either to answer a factual or procedural question that stumped whatever group I’m reporting on or to joke about something humorous that occurred during a meeting. Lately, though, I have found myself struggling to keep my mouth shut as I see the tenor of discussions take on a much more aggressive tone, and I’m starting to lose that fight once in a while.

One of those moments came during last Tuesday night’s community meeting about a proposal — rejected two nights later by the Troy City Council — to demolish perhaps the city’s most prominent abandoned building, the former Leonard Hospital on New Turnpike Road, and replace it with a mixed-income apartment complex. While it should have been no surprise such a plan would face opposition in a neighborhood made up primarily of single-family homes near Turnpike Elementary School and the Schaghticoke town line, I was shocked at the vitriol with which these people stated that opposition.

At one point, as I was trying to take notes for the story that appeared here in Thursday’s edition, I actually spoke up to ask those who opposed the project to stop interrupting those who supported it, giving them the same opportunity to make their points as supporters (including the proposed developer, The Community Builders) were allowed to (and allowing me to get complete quotes for my story). For my efforts, I took a bottle of water in the face after the meeting as I walked out of the Lansingburgh Boys & Girls Club from a miserable woman who also threatened to have her husband beat me up when he got there to pick her up (though, needless to say, as city officials began to gather to see why a reporter — and one of their own who had been talking with me when the confrontation had occurred — looked like participants in the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, the coward slithered off into the night, never to be seen again).

I have to admit, I was very shaken by the whole incident, the first time in my career I was physically assaulted on the job (though I’ve been threatened much more frequently), and I was very anxious as I prepared to go to the next public meeting on my schedule after the incident, the Thursday night council meeting at which members were to take a final vote on the proposal that ended in a 4-4 tie, defeating the planned project and leaving city officials scrambling for another way to get rid of the fivestory eyesore that towers over the neighborhood like a conquering force.

While I appreciated the concern and apologies expressed by many of the city officials who were aware of Tuesday’s incident, I felt like I had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire as I joined many of my print and broadcast colleagues in covering dueling protests in favor of and opposed to having Troy declare itself a sanctuary city, essentially a safe haven for illegal immigrants. The two sides spent more time childishly trying to disrupt each other’s protest and complaining when the media was interviewing one side and not the other than they did actually trying to make their respective points.

While I wasn’t the direct target this time, I was among a couple of media people caught in the proverbial crossfire when the childish behavior finally resulted in pushing

and shoving between the two sides in front of the Hedley Park Place building, the River Street home of City Floor. Perhaps the lasting image of the confrontation was one that ran on the front page of our Saturday morning edition, picturing a sanctuary opponent holding an American flag in one hand while using his other to put a headlock on a supporter of the nationwide sanctuary movement.

It would be easy — probably too easy — to blame these incidents solely on the rise to national and international power of President Donald Trump, especially his fiery challenges of the political status quo and his continuous criticism of the media and its “fake news.” That doesn’t come close to telling the whole story because Trump is far from the first to have tried such tactics; he’s just the first whose efforts have met with the rabid response he received from the electorate.

From having sat in city and town halls and school board rooms for well more than half my life now, I can say I’ve seen this attitude growing for well more than the past two years since the developer and reality TV star first tossed his hair into the ring. At its heart, quite simply, is frustration with the abject failure nationwide of government at all levels to uphold the cliched promise of past generations to provide children with a better life than their parents.

People are genuinely angry to witness what they see as the chosen few getting special treatment — which happens at all levels of government — while the blue-collar middle class has increasingly seen its economic future treated almost as collateral damage by federal, state and local leaders. Talk to some of these people away from the signs and chants and they can tell you eloquently of their fears for the future, but put them in the powder keg of dueling protests and you have incidents like Thursday night’s clash or Tuesday night’s confrontation.

Politics in the 21st century has devolved greatly from the days when a mixed political crowd could have a conversation that didn’t involve threats, condescension or both sides talking more than they listened. As I found out twice last week, though, it’s hard to expect that kind of behavior from our leaders when we the people can’t even do it ourselves anymore. Between the Lines appears every Tuesday in The Record.