Loren C. Steffy's Blog, page 16
September 17, 2013
Michael Dell prevails in takeover fight — now what?
Here’s my update for Texas Monthly on the takeover battle for Dell Inc., which was finally put to a shareholder vote and approved last week. Now that the seven-month battle is behind him, Michael Dell must implement the big changes he’s promised quickly, while the company is still flush with revenue from the declining PC business.
September 12, 2013
August 26, 2013
Applauding Huffington’s `no trolls’ policy
Ariana vs. the trolls: can she win? (Photo credit: wilbertbaan)
Ariana Huffington says she will no longer allow readers to comment anonymously on the Huffington Post. If she means it, if she can resist the threats of reader rebellion and decreased traffic, I applaud her.
When I started my blog at the Houston Chronicle in 2005, I decided I wouldn’t approve anonymous comments. My rationale was that when readers wrote to the paper, we verified their identity before publishing their comments. What’s more, whether online or in print, I was putting my name — not to mention my picture — by everything I wrote. Was it too much to ask that readers, too, stand behind their words?
I was told that it was. If I required everyone to put their name to comments, I wouldn’t get any, and as a result, my traffic numbers would languish. New to the whole blogging experience, I acquiesced. Almost immediately, I regretted it, and I never stopped.
For the next eight years, my blog was inundated with inane, ignorant and hateful comments, all hurled from behind the anonymity of screen names. Sometimes these were directed at me and sometimes they were directed at other readers, some of whom themselves were commenting anonymously.
Of course, as a blogger, having lots of comments helps boost your visibility, but I often found myself wondering why it mattered. If a post degenerated into an exchange of name-calling between two people who lacked the integrity to use their real names, did it really matter?
Not everyone who writes blog comments does so anonymously, of course. I found that the most rational comments, those that offered insights or advanced the discussion came from people using real names. This is understandable, since their comments reflected on them.
Anonymity doesn’t just breed irresponsibility, it also breeds deceit. During the trial of Enron leaders Ken Lay and Jeff Skilling, I found anonymous comments posted to my blog from a server used by the law firm representing Skilling. Almost immediately, readers and some of the Chronicle’s own web team questioned whether I should have “outed” Skilling’s lawyers. As a result, my access to the web addresses of commenters was blocked, thereby ensuring that we protected the anonymity of those we knew were attempting to deceive other readers.
In fact, Skilling’s lawyers later argued he deserved a new trial because of media attention, specifically citing my blog while ignoring their own active, if anonymous, participation in this alleged media circus.
The Internet remains a world of make believe, even as it becomes a more vital part of our lives. Yet too much of what passes for dialog on the Internet is little more than a shouting match between cowards and liars.
The Huffington Post has enough influence, enough digital street cred, that its policy change could start a precedent. At the very least, it may help establish a higher standard to which other sites can aspire.
Anonymous comments have become the way of the Internet, but there is a better way to encourage thoughtful dialog. We are judged by our words. Rather than offering a shield to trolls, we should expect people to stand behind what they write. It’s not too much to ask. The “discussion” that is lost, in most cases, won’t be missed.
August 6, 2013
The never-ending Dell deal http://ow.ly/
The never-ending Dell deal http://ow.ly/nFPPA Takeover has taken longer than KKR `Barbarians’ deal, but other have dragged on longer
SEC judge rules Stanford execs are liabl
SEC judge rules Stanford execs are liable for fraud http://ow.ly/nFOOF Note the faux indignation and blame-gaming from Young’s attny
August 5, 2013
That old familiar staccato of keys striking paper
My writing career began after the dawn of word processors, so I have never written anything of consequence on a typewriter. I found myself reflecting on the role of the typewriter in my own writing career after reading actor Tom Hanks’ piece in the New York Times about his obsessive love for the machines.
My mother was an executive secretary, and she was a pretty fast typist. I remember as a child the sound of her banging out letters, thank-you notes and the like on a manual Royal that we had at the house.
When I was researching The Man Who Thought Like a Ship, I found my father had written a few nautical-related short stories, which he probably hammered out on the same machine. The stories were written before I was born, and he never talked about any writing aspirations he may have had in those early days. Nevertheless, those stories showed that his creative side was asserting itself and that he had aspirations to embrace it even as he was settling into the routine of small-town life and the family electrical business.
Later, after he made the break into nautical archaeology, he used an electric Royal for many years. I’m not sure where it came from, but it definitely wasn’t knew. I seem to remember he had to do some refurbishing to get it working.
After we moved to Texas, he bought an IBM Selectric II, which Hanks describes as a “status-setting” machine that “made the manual typewriter obsolete.” I inherited the old electric Royal, which I kept on a rickety metal table in my room. I used it to write my own short works of fiction. It was an odd addition to a teenager’s room, but it probably played a role in teaching me the discipline of writing. having that commanding piece of machinery sitting there was both inspiring and intimidating. It seemed to say, “I’m here, now get to work.”
I typed a few school papers on it, including a spoof of “Romeo and Juliet” that my ninth-grade language arts teacher liked enough to let me read to the class. I think that and a few of my father’s letters may be the only remaining products of that Royal, which I abandoned when I left for college.
As a child of the word processor, I’ve never felt the allure that Hanks describes for the manual machines, but I do understand their commanding presence. Much like that old Royal, a typewriter demands to be used, to be fed blank sheets that can be filled with its ink-stained staccato. Its clacking keys trumpet achievement, and conversely, their silence echoes louder when the words don’t flow.
I remember listening to my mother type a letter, and I could feel the tension in the pauses when she struggled to find the right word.
Over the years, I’ve considered using a typewriter for some projects. I tend to write first drafts as a stream of consciousness. Many of the first versions of my newspaper columns were written by hand, often on the backs of receipts or coupons or whatever paper I could find. Part of the revision process involved transcribing those early scrawls onto the computer.
While I appreciate Hanks’ nostalgic love for antiquated tools of trade, I can’t deny that I am a child of a different age.
The hardest part of the writing process is getting the words on paper. Whatever tools make that easier, I’m willing to embrace. Yet I can’t help but wonder: would a typewriter add to the creative process, the firm clack of the keys providing a rhythm for the prose? Or is the entire idea folly, another distraction to which writers too easily fall victim?
August 1, 2013
A goodbye to writer John Graves
John Graves (Courtesy of Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries)
When I heard that famed Texas writer John Graves had died at 92, I went to check my bookshelf. Sure enough, his most famous book, Goodbye to a River, wasn’t there. I first read Graves’ farewell to the upper Brazos after it was given to me by my father-in-law. We had just returned from fishing the Brazos below the Possum Kingdom dam, and standing on those banks had invoked his own memories of the book.
I had lived in Texas for years by then but we hadn’t been properly introduced. Goodbye to a River used Graves’ canoe trip down the Brazos in the 1950s to explain to readers the uniqueness of the land and its history. It deciphers the Texas of today by showing what it was in its formative years.
Few writers understood the sense of place better than Graves. All of his books center more on land than on people. His second book, Hard Scrabble, which is on my shelf, is a collection of ruminations about the 400 acres of cedar-choked land he bought near Glen Rose. It was there that he died on Tuesday.
At the end of Hard Scrabble, Graves wrote that the purpose of the book was not to chronicle a triumph over the land, but a comprehension of it.
I’ve often wondered if Goodbye to a River would be published today. In an era of celebrity memoirs, page turners and genre fiction, would readers have the patience for its gentle, meandering reflections on the land and its past? Goodbye to a River is a pure book. It would make a lousy movie because the joy comes from the reading, from savoring the words and slipping gently into its tale of Graves, his canoe, his dachshund and his memories of the river he grew up with, which he believed he was seeing for the last time.
The dam projects that were supposed to turn the Brazos into a chain of lakes from Possum Kingdom to Whitney never happened, but Graves’ farewell remains a poignant tribute both to the land that once was and to a style of writing that is genuine, entrancing and, sadly, antiquated.
When I lived in North Texas, my wife and I would camp with our friends and later our children at Possum Kingdom Lake, and driving out and back always brought to mind Graves and his book. Having read it, the land comes alive in ways it never would to the casual traveler.
I gave my father-in-law’s copy of Goodbye to a River to a friend years ago who liked canoeing and was leaving Texas. I bought another copy in a used book store, and later gave that one away to someone who’d never read it. Over the years, it’s become something of a tradition. I buy the book, always a used copy found by plumbing the dusty stacks of an independent bookstore, and then I give it away.
Buying it online or asking for at the counter while waiting for a latte would seem an affront to everything the book stand for. The search is part of it, a discovery through one’s own effort.
I don’t recall who the last recipient was or how long I’ve been without a copy. Like the busy suburbanite who Graves frequently chastised for failing to understand the land, I was was oblivious to its absence. Now, I stare at the empty space on the bookshelf. It seems larger and darker than before. A hole left by the passing of the man whose words once filled the space. A fitting tribute. Yes.
July 29, 2013
It’s official: I’m an economic contributor
Writing (Photo credit: jjpacres)
Yes, it’s been a long time coming, but as of this week, I can be counted among those who contribute to the growth of the economy. The U.S. Commerce Department will adjust its criteria for measuring the growth of the gross domestic product to include “intangible” creations such as arts and entertainment and research and development, Jeff Sommer writes in the New York Times.
As Sommer explains:
This is to take place on Wednesday, when the bureau releases the results of an immense revaluation of the size and composition of the American economy from the Great Depression to the present. It undertakes this exercise every five years or so, altering its methods as the economy and data quality change. Among the bureau’s revisions is a change in its treatment of research and development and the creation of what it calls “entertainment, literary and other artistic originals.”
“Artistic originals” includes books, movies TV shows, music, photographs and greeting cards, Sommer writes. Of course, there’s a catch. To contribute to the economy, writing must enduring value. Perishable writing, such as daily journalism, won’t be counted.
Most of my career was spent writing for newspapers and new organizations, which means my contribution to the new GDP won’t reflect much of my work. However, with a couple of books under my belt and hopefully more on the way, I’ve made a few lasting contributions.
It’s nice to know that in some small way, I’m adding to the country’s economic growth, even if its something smaller than a rounding error.
July 24, 2013
A `Roundtable’ Review
At the end of last year, I participated in a “roundtable review” for The Man Who Thought Like a Ship. I’d never done anything like it before, and I must admit, I’d never even heard of this sort of thing until I was approached about doing it.
The International Journal of Maritime History asked eight scholars around the world to review the book and then asked me to respond to their reviews collectively. In all my years as a writer, I’ve never publicly critiqued someone else’s critique of my work. At first, I felt a little uncomfortable with the idea. I’ve always preferred to let my writing speak for itself. If readers got the wrong idea, I saw it as my own failing for not conveying my message more clearly.
I must admit, though, the roundtable was interesting and I enjoyed doing it. For one thing, it was gratifying having so many esteemed experts devote so much time and effort into reviewing my book. For another, I found the process gave me a chance to offer some insights into why I wrote certain parts of the book the way I did.
The result was a very lengthy discussion, about 50 pages in all:
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