by WALTER BRASCH
There is nothing the media love more than a good celebrity sex scandal.
Since the story of Scarlett Johansson's purloined nude pictures had run its course, and the media squeezed every drop of ink it could from the Kim Kardashian/Kris Humphries engagement/wedding/marriage/divorce, they had to find something else to feed the beast with the insatiable appetite.
Something else was Penn State. Neatly packaged for the media was the trifecta of what passes as journalism--sex, scandal, and celebrity. And so the media circus rolled into State College, salivating at their good fortune.
The "sex" part of the story was that Jerry Sandusky, former defensive coordinator of the Nittany Lions, was accused of 21 felony counts of sexual abuse of boys. A 23-page Grand Jury report, released Nov. 4 following a drawn-out three-year investigation, detailed some of the specifics. However, this story, no matter what the media say it is, is not about sex. It is about child molestation, child abuse, and endangering the welfare of a child. Big difference.
The "scandal" is that it appeared that high-ranking Penn State officials, although they restricted Sandusky's access to campus, didn't contact police or child protection services, possibly believing they were protecting the university's image.
The "celebrity" part is Joe Paterno, who listened to a graduate assistant who says he saw an act of sodomy by Sandusky, and then, disgusted by what Sandusky may have done, reported it the athletics director and senior vice-president for administration. Paterno met his legal responsibility, and isn't under any criminal investigation. Questions to Paterno in court would probably result in the defense objecting to hearsay testimony since Paterno never witnessed the act.
Almost every Pennsylvania TV station and dozens of networks sent camera crews into State College. As the number of TV crews increased, the quality of reporting sank, as almost every on-air reporter seemed to feel a need to ask even dumber questions and make dumber statements than every other reporter. These are the TV stations that send camera crews to out-of-town football games, Spring training in Florida, and bowl games, yet have downsized their news staff, plead economic poverty, and failed to adequately cover critical news stories. In Pennsylvania, it has meant little original reporting about conflict-of-interest and ethics scandals in the state legislature. Sports, apparently, is "sexy"; the public's money and legislature integrity aren't.
These are the same members of the media who for many of Paterno's 46 years as head coach had filed stories that he should step down after any two losses in a row, or during a losing season, or even a season that didn't have enough wins. The media had also layered comments that Paterno was everything but senile, that he was too old to be coaching. But, Paterno, known in the media as "JoePa," kept winning, and kept demanding academic and athletic excellence in addition to moral integrity from his players. The university's library, not any of its athletic buildings, is named for him. America's best-known coach was building not a place for future NFL stars, but a place where college students could supplement their education to become productive members of society. His graduation rate is among the highest in Division I athletics.
However, based upon the amount of newsprint and air time given to this story, you would swear that Paterno was guilty, arrested, and probably already convicted. The media almost forgot about Sandusky as they began piling on to Paterno. Six column headlines and five minute network stories dominated the news agenda. Like sharks, they smelled blood and circled their prey, a towering figure about to be toppled. With little evidence, these sanctimonious scavengers called for one of the most ethical and inspirational coaches and professors to resign, claiming he didn't do enough, that he should have personally called the police rather than follow established protocol.
.Many of the media horde, who had never written any story about Penn State's excellent academic and research programs, soon began pumping out ludicrous statements that Penn State's reputation would be tarnished for years. Despite their self-righteous denials, the screeching of "Joe Must Go" in one-inch bold black headlines undoubtedly influenced the university's board of trustees, which was constantly proving that incompetence isn't just a media trait. Their attitude seemed to be not whether what Paterno did was a terminable offense, but that to terminate him would somehow save the university's tarnished reputation--and maybe preserve the value of their own luxury seats at Beaver Stadium.
On Wednesday, Nov. 9, three days before the Penn State/Nebraska game, which was to be the last home game of the season, the Trustees, with a push from Gov. Tom Corbett, fired Paterno, thus justifying all the ink and air time spent by the media that seemed distracted from the real story--Sandusky, not Paterno, was arrested.
That night, thousands of students staged a demonstration of support for Paterno. The media called it a riot and almost universally condemned the students for exercising a First Amendment right of peaceful assembly and freedom of speech. What little damage done--the highest estimate was about $20,000--was by a relatively small number of participants.
On game day, the media camped in front of Paterno's house. ESPN coverage of the game, which drew about twice as many viewers as expected, was constantly punctuated by the "scandal," and what Paterno did and didn't do. Tragedy had suddenly become a sport.