Kerry rumor shows how scandal travels in the media

By Mark Jurkowitz, Globe Staff, 2/23/2004

Like a steaming geyser bubbling up from the netherworld, rumors of infidelity involving Democratic presidential front-runner John Kerry forced their way through the journalism hierarchy. While much of the media exercised well-founded caution in handling the story earlier this month, the episode became the latest example of a pattern in which scandal and rumor travel through a fragmented media universe, starting with the bottom feeders and often ending up on the pages of major newspapers and on the lips of network anchors.

The speculation originated in a Feb. 12 report by online gossipmonger Matt Drudge, best known for "breaking" the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky affair six years ago by reporting on Newsweek's investigation into their relationship. From there, it leapt to the talk radio microphones of Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity. On Feb. 13, Kerry chatted with talk show host Don Imus to say "there's nothing to talk about." But the rumor also surfaced in the British press and generated mentions in political tipsheets such as The Hotline and ABC's "The Note." By Feb. 14, the New York Post was trumpeting the tale on Page 1, while publications such as The New York Times and The Boston Globe were noting Kerry's denials inside broader stories on the campaign. On Feb. 16, when the woman allegedly involved issued a firm denial, the story subsided, at least for now.

"In the grammar of sleazy scandals, a categorical denial by the two principals will stop the scandal, except if there is documentary evidence to contradict them or a legal investigation," says Tom Rosenstiel, director of the Project for Excellence in Journalism, an organization designed to raise journalistic standards.

But if the Kerry rumor failed to turn into a major news event -- primarily because no one produced evidence that it was true -- it did serve to highlight the divergent standards, practices, and priorities of the players in an increasingly diverse and unwieldy media landscape.

"There definitely is a media food chain," Rosenstiel says. "What you get is . . . the bad journalism driving out the good."

The lowest link of that food chain is usually

occupied by outlets with the most interest in the salacious -- websites (most notably Drudge's) and the supermarket tabloids. Talk radio, which thrives on controversy and ideology, is an eager conduit for these kinds of stories. At that point, the big tabloids, particularly the New York Post, may jump into the fray, funneling the story from nontraditional media toward the mainstream. The pressure builds on the cable news networks, with their unlimited appetite for news and infotainment, to weigh in. Finally, at the top of the food chain are the pillars of the mainstream media -- major papers and broadcast network newscasts -- that are torn between the reality that many people have already learned of the scandal and the real concern that the story does not meet their standards.

"It's somebody lighting a fuse on the Internet, [and] the smoke and the fire is potentially seen by millions of people," says Bob Steele, senior faculty member at the Poynter Institute, a media think tank. "The means of dissemination have changed, and what is really significant, of course, is that anybody can own the printing press."

A look at recent political scandals illustrates how the food chain functions. Six years ago, word of the mother of all political scandals -- the Clinton/Lewinsky tryst -- jumped from Drudge's keyboard to an ABC talk show to The Washington Post and Newsweek in a matter of four days. When The National Enquirer broke the story about the Rev. Jesse Jackson's "love child" three years ago, it forced media outlets that had ignored rumors about that subject to pick up the tabloid's story.

The Gennifer Flowers affair that nearly destroyed Clinton's 1992 presidential bid was revealed in the Star supermarket tabloid. That news quickly rippled through the media universe, forcing the Clintons to make a remarkable damage-control appearance on "60 Minutes." Also in that campaign, an old rumor about an extramarital affair involving then president George H. W. Bush resurfaced on the pages of the New York Post. The same day, a CNN reporter quizzed Bush about it, and by that evening the unproven allegation had made it onto the network news shows.

In the 1988 campaign, a rumor that Democratic presidential candidate Michael Dukakis had suffered from depression was fueled by supporters of perennial fringe candidate Lyndon LaRouche. That allegation burrowed its way into the mainstream press, eventually forcing Dukakis's doctor to hold a press conference to give him a clean bill of health. In 1998, it was porn publisher Larry Flynt -- offering up to $1 million in reward money for evidence of philandering pols and threatening to name names -- who helped force the resignation of US House Speaker elect Robert Livingston.

For media organizations uncomfortable with tales of sexual peccadilloes and wary of giving credence to rumors, the pressure from the bottom up can become intense. But Steele says these outlets are better off vetting these stories than hiding from them.

"In many ways, you're dealing with a messy piece of meat, and you're bound to get some grease on your fingers," he says. "I'm increasingly of the mind that responsible news organizations must and should weigh in on these issues with factual, textural reporting to clarify when there is confusion."

Larry Sabato, coauthor of "Peepshow: Media and Politics in an Age of Scandal," says the mainstream media acted responsibly in treating the Kerry rumor with chilly skepticism. "To me, it's a reestablishment of judgment," he says. "If something is unproven, don't print it until it's proven."