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State of the Media

The Dallas Morning News, still the bellwether mainstream journalism entity in Texas, has decided to align its editorial muscle with the online-oriented, Dallas-based advertising firm Slingshot.

The newspaper and the ad firm are creating and co-managing what has been described as a “social media agency.” Known as Speakeasy, it will create digital ad campaigns for local and national businesses, in part by using newspaper stories that it distributes via Facebook and Twitter, or features on websites managed by the ad firm for clients.

Jim Moroney, publisher of the newspaper, will serve as chairman of Speakeasy. The founder of Slingshot will be the CEO. And though the partnership has been described as a joint operation, it’s clear that The Dallas Morning News will be the principal owner—and the one continually scrambling to find new ways to monetize its content. I used to work there, and I now teach inside The Belo Center for New Media at The University of Texas at Austin, supported by the newspaper’s parent company, A.H. Belo Corporation.

The arrangement is basically a sign of the national times come to Texas: publishers, from the heavyweights on down, are racing to connect with social media experts. Sometimes, as in Dallas, they are simply siphoning money from print budgets to form their own social media companies that unabashedly view content as a mash-up of news and advertising.

And they’re not just trying to figure out how to disseminate the news in faster-moving bursts on Twitter. The partnership in Dallas is predicated on exploring better ways to allow journalism, presumably in any multimedia form, to be used as an integral part of digital ad campaigns.

The newspaper’s mid-September story on the strategy says its social media agency “will also have access to the complete archives of The News, allowing clients to post stories related to their products and services on their own sites.” In other words, the ad agency will offer the journalistic content of the newspaper to its clients. The clients, in turn, can use the newspaper’s stories on their own websites and in their own social media channels.

It’s one of the buzzy new mass-communications mantras sweeping the 2.0 media landscape, whereby the old journalism boundaries between editorial and advertising are increasingly blurred, and some publishers talk unapologetically about “content marketing.” Defenders of the new strategy say the approach puts a smoother, more believable face on the ubiquitous “advertorials” that sometimes consume whole chunks of magazines like Texas Monthly. Now, instead of clients paying publications for an advertorial that’s clearly marked as an advertorial, companies can re-publish works of bylined journalism on their sites. One Speakeasy executive described it as a “softer” sell than an advertorial.

Some people in North Texas are raising red flags. Tim Rogers, editor of D Magazine (over the last several years he has done the best, most consistent coverage of the media in Dallas), wonders whether newspaper editors will be tempted to start assigning stories that advertisers would consider appropriate for marketing purposes.

Morning News executives insist there’s no potential conflict, that the newspaper’s creation of a social media ad agency is, in effect, just a continuation of what the paper has always done. For example, the newspaper may allow stories from its business section to be used in corporate newsletters. The social media agency, the execs say, simply provides a digitally groomed way to do the same thing. And, without question, it’s a way to make up for the dwindling revenues from print advertising.

In its own story announcing the move, Moroney said the Morning News is a “tremendous repository of great content,” and that the social media/advertising/journalism initiative will increase the newspaper’s reputation as “an innovator in the newspaper industry.”

The Morning News promises to retain editorial independence, and that its stories will not be selectively edited by businesses.

But does having works of journalism on a company’s website—and coursing through its social media streams—imply a tacit endorsement from the newspaper? Is the result a “softer sell” because it seems to come with the independent vetting that news outlets should always provide? Time will tell.

It’s the kind of thing that almost no one would notice. That, in and of itself, is part of a welling media problem. In New Orleans, the clerk of the Civil District Court, Dale Atkins, quietly released a mid-summer memo with this news tucked inside it:

“The Clerk of the Civil District Court’s Office has selected Gambit as its official journal for all advertisements required to be made in relation to judicial proceedings. Beginning August 1, 2012, all advertisements required to be made in relation to judicial proceedings for the Clerk’s Office shall be placed in Gambit.”

Atkins was telling the public that those small ads written in confusing legalese—and that are often found in the very back of newspapers—will be running in the alternative Gambit newspaper instead of the New Orleans Times-Picayune. Atkins announced that he was motivated, in part, by what might prove to be the real canary-in-the-coal-mine moment for mainstream newspapers in America. He said his decision, a financial knife in the back of the already staggering Times-Picayune, was guided by the fact that there is going to be a “reduction in the number of times the paper would be printed.”

Come October 1, the historic Times-Picayune—the paper that won Pulitzer Prizes for its courageous coverage during and after Hurricane Katrina—is scheduled to cease being a daily newspaper. Newspaper executives announced plans earlier this year to cut back publication to just three days a week. If that happens it will be a watershed moment in American journalism, and could become the tipping point for the nation’s large dailies. (Never mind that staffers at the Times-Picayune first learned about this when they read an article in The New York Times.)

Publishers everywhere, including Texas, are watching closely. The Austin American-Statesman—which rarely receives reassurances from its owner, Cox Media Group—must be studying the impact of slicing its seven-day-a-week publication schedule, cutting the print-centric staff and coalescing around its online operations in tech-friendly and tech-savvy Austin. If there were one place in Texas where the financial planners might want to go all-in on an online-only operation, it would be Austin.

Meanwhile, the executive overseeing the changes in New Orleans for Advance Publications, which owns the Times-Picayune, told the excellent media reporters at Poynter Online that he wasn’t concerned with “how many days we publish but how well we cover the community.” That sounds noble but it probably rings extremely hollow to the hundreds of staffers who have been forced out, or will be forced out, of the Times-Picayune because of publication cutbacks.

One Times-Picayune staffer has described the retrenching into the online operation as doubling down on an unproved bet—a gamble with livelihoods … and a public’s need for daily news. Not to mention that we are talking about New Orleans, a city that can shift on a dime, and that is often home to more human and natural disasters than many places in America. New Orleans (hell, the entire state of Louisiana) practically exists as a poster child for the need to have daily, constant, vigorous, intensive investigative and explanatory journalism.

A few folks in The Big Easy are howling in the face of the storm. The colorful owner of the local football and basketball teams offered to buy the paper but was basically told it was not for sale. Various citizen kings, community leaders, academics and artists have formed groups to lodge protests with Advance. You know people are pissed when both Mary Matalin and James Carville have joined the protest.

There have even been vague rumblings about big players ironically canceling even more advertisements in the paper unless Advance agrees to cancel plans to leave New Orleans without a daily newspaper. So far, it doesn’t look like any of the moves has gained momentum.

Finally, some enlightened souls have suggested that Advance could have split the difference—keep some semblance of the daily print operation alive, but stripped down to the necessary essentials: hard news and investigative packages. That’s the type of reporting that really changes lives, that people need to see in paper, in their hands.

Instead, Advance appears to be staying the course. And it might not be too long before publications in Texas make the same mistake.

Erwin Seba, a reporter with the Reuters bureau in Houston, has exposed one of the most alarming ongoing stories in Texas. His 2,000-word saga, published in late June, began with this: “In the end, all it took was a small chemical spill—perhaps less than a barrelful—to bring down the newest, mightiest oil refinery in the United States.”

Seba traced how things have gone dangerously awry at the newly expanded $10 billion Motiva Enterprises Port Arthur refinery—the largest refinery in North America—resulting in the shutdown of some of its units. The plant is spread across thousands of low-lying acres in humid Port Arthur, on the site where the first oil refinery in Texas was built 111 years ago, and close to where oil was first unearthed in the state.

The refinery is a joint venture between Royal Dutch Shell and Saudi Aramco, owned by the Saudi Arabian government. A few weeks before Seba’s story appeared, steel-gray storm clouds gathered in Port Arthur as the Shell and Aramco executives arrived for the triumphant ceremonial opening of the new units. Assembled inside a huge tent, the oil executives gleefully turned an imitation valve, symbolically launching an operation that promised to produce 6 million gallons of gasoline daily.

Spokesmen for Motiva, headquartered in Houston, crowed to reporters that 14,000 people had found work building the new units and that the plant would add $17 billion to the Texas economy. “Our commitment to meet the needs of the United States’ oil market … will contribute to enhancing the United States’ long-term energy security—today, tomorrow, and for decades to come,” added Aramco CEO Khalid Al-Falih.

But within days of the opening ceremony, there were scary problems at the refinery, which have gone unexamined by the state media, with a handful of notable exceptions:

Two fires broke out in a new crude distillation unit, and then whole sections of the plant were shut down on June 9. More than a few oil experts feared another Texas City-style disaster was simmering. In 1947, the worst industrial disaster in American history occurred in Texas City when refineries blew up, killing more than 500 people and injuring 5,000. In 2005, 15 people were killed and 180 injured in an explosion at the British Petroleum plant in Texas City.

Given fears of another wide-scale tragedy, the historic scope of the project, and the regional and national implications of a plant shutdown, it’s staggering that so few media outlets have disclosed what is happening in Port Arthur.

The earliest reporting appeared in a few outlets: Bloomberg, Reuters, The Wall Street Journal and The Beaumont Enterprise produced solid breaking news stories on the shutdown. Then Seba’s drilled-down piece, abetted by unnamed sources, emerged three weeks after the ceremonial opening. Seba reported that a chemical had leaked into a new 30-story crude distillation unit; as it heated up to nearly 700 degrees Fahrenheit inside the chamber, the chemical vaporized and began to corrode thousands of feet of stainless steel pipe.

Seba’s dispassionate report included a panoramic view of the history of oil in Texas and was informed by independent industry experts, who suggested that such problems at the plant should never have happened. “We have the worst-case scenario,” one of Seba’s anonymous sources told him.

Motiva, Aramco and Shell officials have been almost silent on the topic. Motiva’s home page still features the glowing PR account of the May 31 opening, and no mention of the subsequent problems.

Since Seba’s piece, James Shannon, who writes for the Beaumont Business Journal and Beaumont-based The Examiner, has pushed the story forward. One of Shannon’s anonymous sources said it was not “plausible” that corrosion caused the plant’s shutdown. “The combination of secrecy and speculation makes this a difficult story to cover, but reporting efforts will continue,” Shannon wrote.

That reporting will continue is good news. That so few media outlets have reported the problems at the Motiva plant is as ominous for Texas journalism as the storm clouds on the day of the refinery’s ceremonial opening.

Texas is no different from any place in America. It has always had communities that are underserved or ignored by larger local and regional media. And it has always had news outlets attempting to fill the gap—from The Texas Observer to the defunct Dallas Express, from The Forward Times in Houston to alternative weeklies across the state.

One of the mainstays of this gap-filling mission has been KKDA-AM in Dallas, which has served black listeners a combination of news, views and cultural touchstones hard to find anywhere else in North Texas. For decades, the station has been a listening post, sounding board and rallying force for black Dallas. It has given a voice to political figures, activists and artists marginalized or stereotyped by the mainstream media. Fans try to figure out how to pull down the signal in Waco, Tyler and other towns.

Recently, almost the entire on-air team at the station was laid off by Service Broadcasting Corporation, its owner, and replaced by less-expensive, automated programming. R.L. Griffin, Bobby Patterson and Ernie Johnson are among the exuberant, irrepressible, longtime personalities who have been abruptly silenced. They served Dallas for years with a mixture of music, humor, history and news (and their emphasis was often on local music; the three men are among the finest blues/soul artists in Texas).

Their departure points to a mad jumble of things, including modern fiscal realities and how history is fading very, very fast. The layoffs not only remove a ton of institutional memory from the airwaves, more important, they erode the community-based media born of necessity during segregation.

Hearing Griffin (also known as “The Right Reverend of The Blues”) and the others over the years was like picking up signals from a parallel reality, one that was seldom referenced in news venues other than KKDA. It’s impossible to overestimate KKDA’s role in what some industry insiders still call “urban radio” and in the racial history of North Texas. Here’s just one example:

In 1991 the station aired the funeral service for NAACP leader Hudson Washington Griffin Sr., the mightily influential unofficial mayor of South Dallas. Until his death, Griffin (no relation to R.L.) had spent 40 years at his tiny tailor shop, just a short stroll from the site of the sprawling Confederate Cemetery. He would sit by the front window, hemming pants and dispensing advice on voting and housing rights to residents who remembered how the city’s white power structure once wielded the poll tax as a bludgeon to suppress black voter turnout.

Richard Nixon and Bill Clements reached out to him, trying to figure out how to tap the black vote. KKDA was the only Texas media outlet truly cognizant of the revered man’s place in history, and the station selected to broadcast Griffin’s services at New Friendship Baptist Church.

The station once boldly gave voice to controversial County Commissioner John Wiley Price (his show was called “Talk Back: Liberation Radio”) and City Councilman Al Lipscomb. Like them or not, both men made national news for good and bad reasons, and both brought to the airwaves discussions that were not being held anywhere else in Texas. KKDA once had seemingly unbridled scope and ambition. Roland Martin, now on CNN, once served as KKDA’s news director.

When Price, Lipscomb and Linwood “Cuzzin’ Linnie” Henderson, another North Texas media legend, left the air in the ’90s, they were replaced by Patterson and the other folks who have now been let go. For now, KKDA morning talk show stalwart Willis Johnson remains in place.

For years the station has promoted itself as KKDA/Soul 73 and built its legacy on its interaction with the community. It hired Patterson and the others because they have loyal followings in Dallas. Now, a big chunk of the station’s righteous soul has been silenced.

For the last few months, the Houston Chronicle has transfixed the city with an internal fandango that seems like a mashup of La Dolce Vita, Federico Fellini’s nod to journalism, and Miss Lonelyhearts, Nathanael West’s brilliant take on the Fourth Estate.

A Chronicle reporter was covering Houston high society until the feisty Houston Press revealed that she had been working as a stripper. High-profile feminist attorney Gloria Allred recently joined the fray, representing the reporter, who was apparently fired by the newspaper for not indicating her other work on her employment application.

At the center of this story is a sticky ethical conundrum that keeps labor lawyers gainfully employed: Do the past—and extracurricular—activities of journalists have anything to do with their “day gigs” as news providers?

For a decade, the Houston Chronicle has been looking for an heir to the legendary Maxine Mesinger—easily the most famous chronicler of high-and-mighty society in Texas. For almost 40 years, Mesinger subtly mocked and unabashedly celebrated Houston’s power circles. The columnist’s self-referential catchphrase was “She Snoops To Conquer.”

When she died in 2001, some feared a desperate Chronicle would eventually import fizzy tabloid gossip gatherer Lloyd Grove, who honed his craft at the Corpus Christi Caller-Times and The Dallas Morning News. Others wanted Douglas Britt, the Chronicle’s respected art critic and part-time society writer, to do a full-blown, post-modern column about the guarded Houston elite.

But last year, Britt left the paper and then blogged that he had once been a male escort. He still writes at Reliable Narratives, as “an artist, critic and gay sex worker—an escort and occasional adult-video performer—I’m the visual arts editor of Arts + Culture Houston magazine and the former art writer and society reporter for the Houston Chronicle.”

Following Britt, Sarah Tressler, an adjunct professor of journalism at the University of Houston, was entrusted with doing some of the Chronicle’s coverage of society functions. In March, the Houston Press reported that Tressler was the anonymous author of the “Diary of An Angry Stripper” blog and had worked as an exotic dancer. A week later, she was fired from the biggest newspaper in Texas.

New York magazine, Radar, The Huffington Post, The New York Daily News and The Los Angeles Times picked up the story. Tressler hired attorney Allred, who said:

“Most exotic dancers are female, so to terminate an employee because that employee had previously been an exotic dancer would have an inverse impact on women, since it’s a female-dominated occupation. Terminations like this would also discourage women from trying to improve their lives.”

Tressler has filed a gender discrimination complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. In her one-page document, she says she was canned “because my prior activity as an adult dancer was not disclosed when I applied for the job [at the Chronicle]. I believe that the stated reason for my termination was pretextual in that I answered the questions that were put to me truthfully in connection with my application for employment. The true reason for my termination was discrimination on account of my gender.” She maintained she was an independent contractor, an entrepreneur.

The newspaper has refused media inquiries about Tressler. A brisk, dutiful May 11 story about her complaint read, “The Chronicle declined to comment.”

That article also noted that Tressler was very pleased to be working with Allred– who is well known for tightening the screws on everyone from Rush Limbaugh to Tiger Woods to disgraced Congressman Anthony Weiner.

“Couldn’t ask for anyone better by my side… So grateful,” Tressler tweeted on May 10.

Clearly, journalism still doesn’t pay much. (Britt has astutely blogged about this subject.) There is little job security. Today, editors everywhere are telling reporters to be fiercely entrepreneurial at work; build “brands” through Facebook and Twitter; develop high profile, public platforms; seize any multimedia opportunity and, well, do several jobs at once.

In the end, an inherent hypocrisy creeps in: The very institutions pushing for all those aggressive, new ways to monetize the news sure as hell don’t want their journalists to be too entrepreneurial in their private lives.

Other than coverage of Mexico, there is almost no original international reporting by the Texas media anymore, leaving Texans increasingly in the dark as we experience the ripple effects of events abroad.

The Texas Observer’s courageous Melissa del Bosque routinely travels across the Rio Grande to cover Mexican issues. The Houston Chronicle’s Dudley Althaus has been a rock-steady, fearless reporter living in Mexico for over two decades. Alfredo Corchado of The Dallas Morning News has been on the front lines from the newspaper’s bureau in Mexico City. Almost any other international reporting for a state audience by Texas publications is now practically non-existent. Almost every media outlet in Texas has slashed its foreign news budget—as have most national news organizations—in response to economic pressures.

A count by American Journalism Review last year found only 230 foreign correspondents employed by U.S. newspapers, down from 307 in 2003, when the last AJR survey was conducted. (The AJR study showed only Althaus and Corchado working abroad for Texas publications).

Texas does have a precious few magazine correspondents who sometimes roam abroad, including The New Yorker’s Lawrence Wright (based in Austin, and winner of a Pulitzer Prize for The Looming Tower: Al Qaeda and the Road to 9/11) and Forbes’ Christopher Helman (based in Houston, who occasionally covers the energy industry’s power plays in Saudi Arabia and Qatar). Arguably Texas’ most well-traveled international reporter is National Public Radio’s John Burnett. He routinely jets to cover natural disasters in Haiti or Japan for the national radio audience.

The sad fact is that the dearth of foot soldiers covering international news on behalf of Texas media outlets has often allowed xenophobes to go unchallenged. Billionaire T. Boone Pickens loves summoning the foreign bogeyman as he touts natural gas as a “patriotic” alternative to imported oil. The search for alternative energy sources is one issue, but employing jingoistic tones is another. And the media in Texas still too often stumble on their idolatry of the state’s citizen kings—especially the international oilmen—and don’t drill down on how these powerful business leaders may be swaying U.S. foreign policies for their own corporate benefit.

With Texas’ ascension to certified Super State status and the deep inroads made here by foreign corporations such as British Petroleum, there are clear reasons for Texas media outlets to cover more foreign news. Never mind that Houston and Dallas are filling with immigrants from every corner of the globe.

Beginning in the 1980s, there was an incredible surge in ambitious foreign coverage led by Texas reporters: The Dallas Morning News won Pulitzers for its photojournalism about Romanian orphans and the war in Iraq. It won an international reporting award for a powerful investigative series into global violence against women. The best foreign correspondent in the history of Texas newspapers, Ed Timms, covered the hottest spots: Somalia, Sudan, Rwanda, the Palestinian territories, Angola, the Balkans, Haiti and Zaire.

For a while, the Morning News seemed almost hellbent on proving its international mettle. The paper opened bureaus in Berlin and Toronto and many other major international cities and several correspondents (including me) were dispatched to cover strife in Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, East Germany, the Soviet Union and the Philippines. The Houston Chronicle and Fort Worth Star-Telegram also had coverage from abroad, some leading to Pulitzers and other major prizes.

The Dallas paper even set up a Havana bureau in 2000. At the time, that bureau seemed to be some sort of symbolic last stand for Texas-tied international reporting. The bureau closed in 2004, and with it rang a death knell for foreign news’ heyday in Texas.

For now, there isn’t much to be done about it—other than tune into NPR and read The New York Times and The Economist, or search your other favorite online sources. And hope some reporter out there has seen the ties that bind this country called Texas to events around the world.

Either that, or you can read some more numbingly simplistic, subservient coverage of Texans who embrace natural gas as a surefire way to give the middle finger to all those wicked foreigners— from Venezuela to the Middle East.

For the next several months, plenty of eyes will turn to Texas for insider intelligence. The emails of Austin-based firm Stratfor, a private global security analysis company, have been hacked and given to WikiLeaks.

In late February, WikiLeaks started publishing more than five million emails from the company; the process could go on for months, maybe years. WikiLeaks has partnered with 26 media outlets around the world, including Rolling Stone, to analyze and provide news coverage about the material. None of the outlets are in Texas.

Initial findings from the correspondence underscore the sadly redundant and deliberate ways that Big Government and Big Business work together. There is a mash-up of surveillance details about political campaigns and activist organizations. There are insights into how Dow Chemical, Lockheed Martin and Raytheon are linked to the Obama administration, and hints about how the Department of Homeland Security, the Defense Intelligence Agency and the Marines fit into the mix.

Beyond the evidence of government-and-business collusion, the emails contain disturbing suggestions about the relationship between reporters and the elusive world of “intelligence gathering,” in which reporters can grow far too close to the people they cover, influencing what they report and how they report it. It’s an old problem, one that scorched former New York Times reporter Judith Miller, whose exclusives about weapons of mass destruction in Iraq were later proved wrong.

Stratfor has posted a note on its website that should resonate with anyone who questions how journalism is practiced:

“Stratfor has worked to build good sources in many countries around the world, as any publisher of geopolitical analysis would do. … We have developed these relationships with individuals and partnerships with local media in a straightforward manner, and we are committed to meeting the highest standards of professional and ethical conduct.”

Alternately, here’s what WikiLeaks had to say about how reporters from Argentina to Azerbaijan delivered information to Stratfor’s offices in downtown Austin:

“Stratfor did secret deals with dozens of media organisations and journalists—from Reuters to the Kiev Post … While it is acceptable for journalists to swap information or be paid by other media organisations, because Stratfor is a private intelligence organisation that services governments and private clients these relationships are corrupt or corrupting.”

The reaction in the U.S. media says volumes. The Nation and Rolling Stone are predictably not lingering over how the emails were lifted from Stratfor. Rather they are fixated on what the emails contain. The New York Times, on the other hand, has noticeably shied away from the content of the emails, instead concentrating on criminal allegations and the role the FBI has played in investigating “data stolen from Stratfor.” Good luck finding any drilled-down work in the Texas media about the information contained in the emails, or the extent to which it was gathered from working journalists here and abroad.

That lack of coverage doesn’t just indicate a lack of curiosity, but an ongoing culture in Texas media circles: Intelligence organizations, spin doctors and think tanks have long relied on sympathetic state journalists. Some young Austin journalists go to work as “open source intelligence monitors” for Stratfor. Some do research for Public Strategies (run in part by Mark McKinnon, who years ago was the crusading editor of The Daily Texan, the University of Texas at Austin student newspaper, before he single-handedly invented George W. Bush’s media campaigns). Some journalists even move on from years at the liberal news weekly The Austin Chronicle to become affiliated with conservative policy shops like The Manhattan Institute.

Such “exchange” of information may also be less deliberate than the deals suggested in the Stratfor/WikiLeaks revelations. It could take other forms, maybe some social lubrication at The Austin Club, The Petroleum Club, The Houston Club.

One thing is sure: More emails are coming this year. And the more the story is ignored in the Texas media, the more it says about the Texas media.

I recently exchanged emails with a reader about whether one has to have some sort of socio-cultural DNA to actually get this place—to really decipher Texas. Do you have to be from here to understand here, and to do the public-service journalism that is the connective tissue between justice and truth?

An easy answer is embodied in the extraordinary legacy of the late Barbara Karkabi, one of the finest journalists in the state—ever. To me and countless other journalists, she was proof that if you carry enough love and understanding into the contract you broker with the people you interview, then you can produce civic-minded journalism that matters.

Karkabi was raised in New York City and began her journalism career in war-torn Beirut before becoming a stalwart of the news scene in Houston. She passed away recently at the age of 65 after a long battle with cancer. She leaves behind a devoted husband (Mike Snyder, another bastion of Houston journalism) and daughter. She also leaves behind a body of work that shows boundless empathy and compassion—and how we are all far more alike than different.

Barbara rolled up her sleeves each day for almost 30 years to work for the often derided mainstream media, and courageously wrote about subjects that made the editors of the Houston Chronicle uncomfortable. When I worked with her in the early 1980s, the Houston Endowment ran the paper like the Great Eye of Sauron, staring down and sometimes condemning coverage of what Barbara knew had to be addressed: women’s rights, poverty, and the mistreatment and neglect of ethnic populations, immigrants and refugees.

She fought the good fight and stood her ground with humor, grace, and generosity. And she introduced Houstonians to people, to worlds, that were often hidden in plain sight.

She wrote about a hunger strike by Baylor College of Medicine student Ahilan Sivaganesan. The doctor-in-training was fasting to draw attention to the ethnic conflict engulfing the Tamil people of Sri Lanka. Barbara hooked Houston into a global humanitarian concern and let readers know about that young man’s human rights group, People for Equality and Relief in Lanka.

She told the story of another Houstonian, Anjum Bilgrami, who honored the Muslim month of Muharram by visiting his mosque to pray for healing—especially amid the ceaseless strife in Gaza.

And in what is now an oft-told tale in Houston media circles, Barbara once wrote about cost-effective medications that could save countless people from river blindness, a parasitic disease associated with poor and developing nations. Upon reading her story, Houston philanthropist John Moores gave $25 million to fund an initiative by a University of Houston professor to get the medicine to the people who needed it most. That is the very definition of cause-and-effect journalism.

She helped found the Association for Women Journalists in Houston. She was long admired by Houston feminists for her work on the board of the Friends of Women’s Studies, affiliated with the University of Houston’s women’s studies program.

The New York Times’ Samuel G. Freedman talks about great journalism existing on a temporal axis and an eternal axis. Good stories and good journalists are of the moment, but they also open a window on timeless values. Barbara did that, by design, and by dint of her smarts. It was her spiritual gift to her readers. She covered a seemingly hard, divisive Houston and found its multi-hued soul.

Her brilliant colleague at the Chronicle—her friend Claudia Feldman—has called Barbara “humble.” That is so perfect. Barbara treated people in the newsroom and in interview settings with care, dignity and life-affirming humor. She was self-effacing. She listened to people; she listened to the heartbeat of her city.

In the end, she was a writer who showed so many “ordinary people” in her adopted state to be truly extraordinary. Her work, day in and day out, proved that no matter where we are from, we ultimately have more in common than we know. She was an example for journalists in a melting-pot country called Texas.

In September, a high-ranking Manhattan editor who worked on Scott McClellan’s bestselling takedown of the Bush administration told me she was inundated with book pitches from Texas journalists eager to write about Rick Perry, the presidential candidate. Around the same time, Politico quoted Texas Tribune editor Evan Smith saying, “I have dropped to my knees before bed every night and prayed that this man would run for president.”

Journalists soon realized that Perry’s run for the White House wasn’t going to make for great political journalism. Of course, 2012 uncorked with Perry still stumbling, and Texas Monthly’s Paul Burka saying, “The best thing he can do for Texas in the time left to him is to resign.”

On Jan. 19, Perry suspended his presidential campaign. Did his national foray mean a damned thing for journalism in Texas? One Austin insider suggests an intriguing possibility: The national media’s fascination with Perry’s decade-long environmental record might actually lead to a renewed reportorial emphasis on the environment in Texas.

The last few months have seen hard-hitting environmental pieces about Texas in The New Republic and Mother Jones, and by former Observer managing editor Chris Tomlinson, now with the Associated Press in Austin. The big mainstream Texas papers have done their bit, too, publishing stories about Perry’s abysmal environmental record (though too often settling for he-said-she-said coverage of the governor’s squabbles with the Environmental Protection Agency).

It was encouraging to see some attention paid to what may be the state’s single most egregiously under-reported issue. But, that said, don’t look for Texas venues to reintroduce the kind of day-in-day-out reporting the state’s best environmental journalists used to do in the glory days of newspapers.

Jim Schermbeck, among the state’s most courageous environmental advocates, told the Dallas-area Pegasus News that readers “certainly can’t rely on more mainstream resources anymore. … If people really want to know what’s happening with public health and environmental issues in [the Dallas-Fort Worth area], they need to plug into the myriad of citizen and group blogs and websites that are out there breaking news every day.”

He’s right. It’s too much to hope that big outlets will ever recreate dedicated environmental beats. But it’s clear there is no shortage of stories to pursue. To cite just one example: San Antonio residents deserve a full investigation of pollution on the outskirts of the old Kelly Air Force Base, which is located in a predominantly Latino community. An investigation should examine whether the contamination is part of a national pattern near U.S. military installations.

Perhaps, if the trend toward hyper-local news continues, news outlets will pay more attention to such “in-my-backyard” environmental hazards. Last year, citizen journalists in North Texas explored how mineral rights and fracking controversies evolved in increasingly urban areas. As affluent white Texans flock to East Austin and Oak Cliff in Dallas, there might even be an upsurge in accountability reporting on neighborhoods, long victimized by abject environmental racism.

While we can wish that hard-hitting environmental journalism inspired by Perry’s presidential campaign will continue in Texas, readers might better focus on the consistently excellent work done by The Texas Observer’s Forrest Wilder and the swelling ranks of online grassroots investigators and bloggers around the state. There’s Schermbeck’s Downwinders At Risk site. Sharon Wilson’s Bluedaze website has examined the environmental record of the former editor of The Oak Cliff Tribune, former Dallas City Council member, and gas industry advocate Mark Housewright, and scrutinized a Texas Tribune event last year that provided a forum for T. Boone Pickens and other natural gas heavyweights.

Bottom line: There is at least a bit more awareness. You know things have changed when The Dallas Morning News named Port Arthur environmental hero Hilton Kelley a finalist for its 2011 Texan of The Year. (Just a few years earlier, the paper named Karl Rove Texan of the Year, with political reporter Wayne Slater describing Rove as “someone of uncommon character who demonstrated both leadership and vision.”)

Maybe, just maybe, Perry’s failed presidential run exposed a bit more of Texas’ toxic underbelly, reinvigorating mainstream media coverage of the environment while empowering a hell of a lot more citizen journalists.

The big term bandied about in media circles these days is impact journalism. Cause-and-effect journalism. The kind of journalism that gets people talking, uncorks indictments, passes bills, frees the unjustly incarcerated, and might convince people to pay for their news.

At the same time, more and more news veterans are worrying about the thousands of new reporters being spit out of journalism schools who could care less about game-changing journalism. They want to be Anthony “No Reservations” Bourdain. They wish their lives were as interesting as David Sedaris’, so they could write a memoir and have critics declare them the voice of a new generation. They don’t want to be I. F. “Izzy” Stone or Sy Hersh, in their thick eyeglasses, hip deep in the deadly dull but ultimately damning reporting that renders government malfeasance transparent and cleaves a lot closer to what John Henry Faulk said were our “guaranteed liberties and freedoms.”

These are the things I think about as the presidential race kicks into high gear this new year. The stakes seem higher than ever. With the economy ground to a raw nub, college graduates carrying record debt, and journalism students less certain than ever that there will be any kind of paying job in the news game, you may wonder if there are any young journalists at all willing to take on the hard, droning work of the modern muckraker.

Thankfully, there are. From the University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP) to Southern Methodist University, students are signing up to become muckrakers.

Don’t tell Rick Perry as he continues his fevered quest to ferret out research on Texas campuses, but student journalists are researching him and other profoundly important issues in Texas and elsewhere. They are committing to a career in investigative work, and diving into it without much faith that there will be jobs with 401(k)s waiting for them when they graduate.

They are doing it as a calling, “swooping down” on government bureaucracies like a “guerilla warrior,” as Izzy Stone once put it.

At UTEP, the extraordinary “Mexodus” project is a sweeping investigative narrative, driven by student journalists, that shines a light on middle-class families fleeing Mexico because of drug-related violence. The ongoing “Light of Day” project, spearheaded by the Freedom of Information Foundation of Texas, teaches students from universities across the state how to use public records to create investigative stories. The project has led student journalists to take long, hard looks at whether Texas schools are fully disclosing their public records.

In my investigative journalism class at the University of Texas at Austin, students spend several months looking into these issues: the breakdown in a federal system meant to protect parents against international child abductions; whether public universities are violating federal labor laws; why Texas immigration judges have the highest denial rates for asylum seekers; what happens to women in Texas when lawmakers slash health care funding; the lives of poverty-stricken college students; how U.S. policies for assimilating refugees cause further suffering for newcomers to this country.

As the new year unfolds, and you worry whether the media’s clucking prophecies (“You’ll miss the news when it’s gone”) are about to come true, take solace in the fact that there are fresh legions of young journalistic foot soldiers who are clearly not averse to investigative news.

I knew a Dallas reporter who was nicknamed, behind his back, The Reverse Nostradamus. He wrote a column that often featured excerpts from stories that had appeared decades earlier. People said he was good at predicting the past. I’m taking a crack at predicting the future:

Journalism will survive in 2012 and the years to come. The hard stories will be covered, and covered well, by young Texas reporters who are doing it because it is a calling. With no reservations.