For years, I’ve heard that journalism requires clear and concise writing — but to me, that always seemed to be code for “dry.” Ernest Hemingway, one of the greatest writers of the early 20th century, started out as a journalist, and after reading his book The Sun Also Rises this year, the connection between journalistic writing and dryness looked pretty solid to me.
All the President’s Men by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, two Washington Post reporters, is refreshingly well-written, and, well, not dry. Am I saying that they’re better writers than Hemingway? Overall, probably not. But they certainly know how to take what could easily be a sleep-inducing book — after all, it is riddled with what seems like hundreds of names and connections — and make it approachable, suspenseful, and even entertaining in some parts. The fact that it’s told in third person enables Woodward and Bernstein to comment on each other as characters without the reader knowing who’s saying what; they often poke fun at each other, or offer captivatingly personal intimations about what was running through their heads at different parts of this year-and-a-half long investigation. Some parts can be downright funny: “Hunt’s friend, who seemed to share these gourmet tastes, asked the waiter how omelettes were made at the Hay-Adams. Woodward resisted saying, ‘With eggs.’” (251). The candid narration in the book is what carries it, stylistically.
As a piece of journalism, the book is incredible. It goes in-depth with each step of the investigation — all the hundreds of people that Woodward and Bernstein called, all the running around and meeting secret sources, all the conversations with hostile or reluctant sources whether in person or by phone — it’s all there. What’s more, it doesn’t seem fabricated; I got the sense that the reporters wrote all these conversations down from their actual notes, which is admirable. To know that they did an investigation that took around 18 months and then put a book out on it in a year is inspiring to me, as an aspiring journalist.
In a world where investigative journalism is taking a hit, reading about the Watergate investigation gave me a real look at what a hands-on, all hours of the day, newsroom-shaking investigation actually looks like. Woodward and Bernstein give a picture of every stage of the process: reporters making daily calls to all their sources (all of whose information they have stored away in multiple file drawers), identifying themselves as reporters and making sure things are on background or on the record, typing out memos of especially important leads, writing paragraphs alongside editors, watching those editors rearrange or add to the story, and meeting with editors to determine what is ethically right in each situation. Ethics was a huge recurring topic in the book; it seems that many interactions with sources who have promised their silence on issues are based on shoddy notions of honesty. When trying to convince Hugh Sloan to talk, Bernstein reasoned, “Well, if the reporters [Woodward and Bernstein] had some information that he could confirm or steer them away from, that would be alright. He wouldn’t be violating any trust in doing that” (95). Much information was gotten on some loophole-oriented conduct, telling the source what is necessary to make them feel comfortable talking. I suppose it was indeed the only way to get information from such White House/Campaign insiders. Woodward and Bernstein are both torn up when it turns out that they make a mistake on implicating Assistant to the President H.R. Haldeman in the case; they wrote, “Lunch was nerve-racking and strained. Woodward and Bernstein were too preoccupied to discuss anything coherently, much less writing a book. If the situation was deteriorating as badly as they feared, they would probably offer their resignations to the paper. There is little demand in journalism or book publishing for discredited reporters. They hardly touched their food, and instead gulped down cup after cup of coffee” (186). When they make a small mistake that puts the reputation of the entire Washington Post in danger, they are significantly affected, and work tirelessly to try to get to the bottom of their mistake.
The two journalists made some questionable moves in their verification processes (telling sources they knew “for sure” that the information they had was true, in order to make their sources less apprehensive about confirming it), but it is understandable in a situation with so many constraints on sources by the Nixon Administration. The editing process looks flawless, however; Ben Bradlee, executive editor of the Post, is actively involved in how Woodward and Bernstein’s stories turn out: he says things like, “Fellas….you’ve got one story here. Put it in one, fit it together. It’s all the same thing” (142) and “Never mind the first several paragraphs….you work that out” (142). The look at how their stories are edited gave me a strong sense that editors in major papers hold the reporters to a good standard of writing, and of verification, as they nearly grill them on whether their sources are trusted or not, and make sure that their information is confirmed by enough people. Woodward and Bernstein themselves make it a point not to run information without at least two confirmations.
The value of this kind of long-form journalism is that people get to see the journalistic process — the long, grueling work that is sometimes done to get the right facts in a story. In our fast-paced, short-article world, it is also refreshing to see such a great story told. Journalism doesn’t always have to be bunches of quotes and statistics, but a running, suspenseful, emotional story that at the same time enlightens the public on what’s really going on. I very much enjoyed the book, and it only makes me want to be a journalist more — seeing the impact that Woodward and Bernstein had on the nation gives me hope that journalism can make a difference for our society.
mrellisarnold12 