But how politically unbiased were we allowed to be? The advertising versus editorial debate in the press is a perennial one. Over the year I was with The Herald, there were a few lapses where there would be direct influence from commercial interests to have articles in their favour. Being asked to give the owner of a prominent luxury hotel a mouthpiece through an extensive interview did give me the sense of being in the pockets of big business. However, I had the authority to go to press with quotes throwing into question the viability of luxury tourism in a land where the season lasts little over four months — slightly dampening the gushing tone of the article.
Rather than being downright manipulative, in hindsight I would describe the management style as slightly neurotic, characteristically protecting its own interests. This led to occasional grumbles, back-talk and skirmishes among the editorial team; however they say the best relationships flourish under tension. Perhaps this was the cohesion needed to keep together the tribe of English-language hacks who refer to themselves as 'ex-Herald'.
Being a Goan born and raised in the West, interested in keeping contact and learning about my more distant roots, the attempts of The Herald to reach out to the Goan across the globe was admirable, and I was honoured to be a part of it. The edition has since folded and it is a shame that the paper doesn't do more at the international level now, perhaps utilising new technologies available to streamline the whole process.
All in all, I feel my tenure at The Herald was a fruitful one. That is not to deny that the paper has its troubles, but to an extent newspapers (like politicians) are merely mirrors of the society they serve. The fact that it has been a part of the Goan social and political landscape for the last twenty years is, if nothing more, testament to its success within the community.
Chapter 10: Growing up with the Herald…
Visvas Paul D KarraVPDK was an outspoken sub-editor at the Herald, where he also covered sports for the daily's special supplement. Subsequently, he has shifted to working at the prominent Bangalore-based daily, Deccan Herald.
After the Herald, journalism seemed to me like a dress rehearsal. Always a bridesmaid, never quite the bride.
Surviving months of introductory sessions with Francis Ribeiro, I was firmly convinced that I had a role in nation building. I started behaving my age and silently promised to skip rum the next Saturday night. And on moon-less nights, I stayed awake thinking about the burden of the Fourth Estate, lying face down on my leased estate. At the office there were daily hunting trips, as I went on poaching for angles and words from the alphabet forest.
In short, Herald was the 'journalism school' where I learnt all the elementary tricks of the trade. But what set apart this journalism school was its sense of applied practical nightmares. None wanted you to come up with a neat circle. If it got a reader's attention, rhombus would do, this I learned from the Herald.
The continuous slogging on the desk, day in and day out, soon scratched away the sheen off a 'oh-you-are a journalist' comment and introduced me to a world of words. This wordy world consisted of stories and stories, each of them carrying a life of their own, each one clamouring for attention. The more attention a story deserved, the higher in the page it appeared. The less attention the story received, down in the scale you go.