EMPTY NEWSROOMS... EMPTY PROMISES

Longtime Boston Reporter Jim Morelli took to social media to give his take on Today’s TV news.

Here’s what he wrote and passed along to FTVLive.

Sometimes... there's just 'nothing' going on.

In the 8th biggest television market in the country, with three million potential viewers... sometimes, in TV news, there's absolutely nothing going on. 

Thus describes the nightmare scenario for local TV news producers in Boston: Those days amazingly devoid of 'anything' going on. 

A few months ago, it was one of those 'nothing going on' days at WFXT -- also known as Boston 25 -- a station I began reporting for in 2015 and left last May.  

At our morning meeting, when content is decided for the day, the assignment editor, lamenting the dearth of story possibilities, mused about something that would make her life a whole lot easier.

A house fire -- that met certain specs. 

"I mean, nobody injured," she said. 

"But, like, maybe a firefighter rescuing a dog?" 

Of course! A hero and a hound -- bonus if said hound was reunited on cam with the unharmed family. 

Because that would mean... 

The lead story!

No such fire occurred that day. 

And let's be clear. Every day without a house fire is a blessing.  

Because you learn, as a journalist, that tragedy is not an abstraction. 

It involves upheaval and displacement and trauma that sometimes never goes away. 

And often, tragedy produces rage.

Years ago, on a Sunday morning, I was sent to cover the aftermath of a house fire on the South Coast. 

We arrived long after the flames had been doused. 

The structure, as I recall, was olive-green. Its windows had been blown out. The interior consisted of blackened pillars holding up flame-ravaged joists and sagging batts of  insulation. Around the property lay the usual detritus of the firefighting effort: puddles... plastic water bottles... shreds of yellow tape.  

But those items seemed especially poignant that morning.  

Because that fire killed a four-year-old boy.

The child's grieving sister, a teen, arrived an hour after we did. She screamed, she cried, she collapsed. And then, in a paroxysm of fury, she lunged at our photographer. 

I don't know why she did what she did. But part of me believes she saw the terrible truth. 

That human suffering has increasingly become the main fodder for local TV news.

That bleeding truly IS leading.

That lives seem only to be valued for what can be lost. 

How did we get to this pathetic, sad place?

How did we get to the point where communities such as Brockton or Lawrence seem only to get attention from Boston's news stations when someone is murdered or raped or robbed?

I can't speak for every media outlet. But at Boston 25 in recent years, money -- or the lack of it -- seemed to play a major role in coverage limitations.

Ten years ago, 25 had so many reporters covering the day shift that our morning editorial meetings were standing-room-only affairs. More reporters meant more opportunities to cover stories about health, climate change, technology and inequality. It meant a well-rounded newscast not necessarily focused on crime and violence. 

When I left last May, just two reporters remained on day shift. 

So what changed in ten years to cause such a staffing implosion? Ownership -- and with it, arguably, a commitment to journalism. 

In 2014, Cox Media Group (CMG) acquired Boston 25 -- then known as Fox 25. CMG, a family owned company, traced its roots back to James M. Cox, founder of a chain of newspapers who later went on to serve as Ohio's governor and the Democratic presidential nominee in 1920.

CMG's business was journalism -- and the company promptly pumped what seemed a substantial amount of money into 25. 

The staff grew. Shows expanded. New cameras arrived along with a fleet of new vehicles. 

But just before the pandemic, the Cox family sold its TV stations to Apollo Global Management, one of the largest private equity firms on earth. 

What came next? Cuts. 

Helicopter: gone. Shows: gone. Innovations such as podcasts: gone. And, needless to say, jobs gone, too.  

Today, the Boston 25 newsroom, once packed with so many journalists that some of us had to share desks, is half empty. 

The loser in all this? The public. Journalism's highest calling is to give voice to the voiceless -- to delve into places the power structure doesn't want us to go. Our democracy depends on not just a free press, but a robust free press. But, plain and simple, that takes people