A newspaper has only one front page.
Until we figure out how to bend space, time and physical dimensions, the A Section where the "big" news appears can only have one Page 1. That means choices have to be made.
It's the same in writing a news story. Every story has to have a "lede" paragraph. A reporter covering, say, a city council meeting has to pick something from among 10 or 20 agenda items to start the story with. Otherwise, coverage would always begin with "The mayor called the meeting to order and the members stood for the Pledge of Allegiance." That's taking the minutes, not reporting the news.
Because choices are involved, everyone can have an opinion. If a sports editor has only one reporter available, should the reporter cover the high-interest football game or the cross-country track meet few people other than the participants and their families will read?
I've had someone accuse me a few times of "just trying to sell newspapers," because coverage they were invested in didn't get adequate coverage, or any at all.
The charge that newspaper men and women want to sell newspapers is like saying Apple wants to sell iPhones. We want people to read the stories reporters work on, consume the editorials and letters to the editor on the opinion pages, laugh at the comics and respond to the advertisers. The underlying accusation is that we somehow skew, ignore or sensationalize the news just to get readers.
At this newspaper, the operating theory is that people will subscribe and read newspapers when there's consistent, ethical and factual reporting informing them on issues they care about, when they're entertained or they learn something from reading, and when they believe the newspaper helps keep them informed. One-time excitement over a sensational headline doesn't do us much good; our work is focused on being an indispensable and informative part of people's daily lives.
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I have been interested by discussions about media coverage of the disappearance -- now a confirmed homicide -- more than two weeks ago of 22-year-old Gabby Petito of Florida near Grand Teton National Park. She disappeared while on a cross-country road trip with her boyfriend. He returned home in the van they traveled in, but without Petito.
Within days, coverage was criticized as a case of "missing white woman syndrome" -- asserting an out-of-balance media fixation that minimizes cases involving people of color. I think it's a fair criticism sometimes, even as I also struggle to comprehend what propels one murder mystery to national prominence but not another.
I've seen murder cases in Arkansas every bit as intriguing as ones on the East Coast but largely ignored by national media, so region seems an influence, too.
Cases like Petito's lure viewers and readers, in part, when the public becomes aware of the case before an arrest but when there's a presence of an odds-on favorite chief suspect who remains free and whose circumstance or story creates an aura of mystery. Intrigue builds when that person of interest behaves in ways that, to the public, make him unlikeable.
Some victims' families are more adept at using social media campaigns to gin up public interest in a case.
I also think people are intrigued when the mystery seems reasonably solvable. It's a real-life who-dun-it. For people detached from personal involvement, it's like a mystery novel, as harsh as that may sound when there are real people suffering.
People prefer the 300-piece puzzle over the 1,000-piece variety. If there's no obvious suspect and few clues, families sadly find it hard to draw people's interest and sustain it in ways that might help.
That doesn't help a family in mourning, but it's a reality, whether we're talking about news judgment or just what people are talking about.