What were we thinking! What possible good can come from telling the whole darn world that innocent visitors are being stalked like stray zebras on the Serengeti?
OK, maybe a few tourists who read these stories will be more careful and alert. Maybe a few watchful ones will avert a mugging, or a trip to the E.R. But what about those timorous souls who see the grisly headlines and bolt for the airport? Whether they're from Berlin or Biloxi, we should make them feel welcome and safe, even if it means "rethinking" the way we cover crime.
Good journalism isn't always good boosterism. We must strive for a balance. No reporter should sleep easily, knowing that he or she might be responsible for a single vacant hotel room, an unrented LeBaron, an empty table at the Strand. We shouldn't be scaring tourists away, even if it saves their lives.
I'm not proud to admit it, but only weeks ago I wrote a column describing a number of gruesome attacks committed against tourists this year. Never mind that the stories were true; it was hyping, pure and simple. I realize that now.
In the future, the watchword is restraint. It's possible to convey even the most harrowing events in a manner that won't stampede our tourist trade. Call it reverse sensationalism.
The old cheap hype: A couple visiting from Germany was the target of a violent carjacking in Fort Lauderdale on Saturday ...
The new slick hype: A couple visiting from Germany was stranded Saturday when they involuntarily loaned their rental car to several armed strangers, who forgot to return it.
The old cheap hype: Two British tourists were attacked by a gang of smash-and-grab robbers Saturday after stopping at a downtown Miami intersection ...
The new slick hype: Two nonresidents were shaken but unharmed Saturday after a 13-pound cinder block mysteriously fell from the sky and crashed through the windshield of their rental car at a downtown Miami intersection. After hearing the noise, several neighborhood youths climbed into the car, apparently to make certain that no one was injured. In the confusion, the two startled visitors misplaced their wallets, credit cards, jewelry and camera ...
The old cheap hype: A vacationing Ontario businessman was shot and wounded Saturday night during an attempted robbery outside a Miami Beach nightclub.
The new slick hype: A plucky Ontario haberdasher was recovering at Mount Sinai Hospital late Saturday after a minor flesh wound interrupted a night of dancing on South Beach.
Police quickly pointed out that of all the victims shot county wide this weekend, 96 percent were not tourists, and almost all were more seriously injured than the visiting Canadian.
Now, isn't that better? Don't you feel safer already?
Fish tales fly in face of logic, but pass 'em on
July 22, 1993
Recent news stories have exposed another harrowing menace to tourists. Giant rogue barracudas are leaping from the sea to mangle unsuspecting boaters, then flopping back into the water to resume their diabolical stalk.
Could it be true!
The first attack happened July 9 in Islamorada. A 46-year-old Tampa woman was badly lacerated after a barracuda rocketed from the depths of Florida Bay and knocked her to the deck of a houseboat.
Anecdotal evidence suggests that the fish was probably jumping, as barracudas often do, in an attempt to rid itself of an angler's hook. That somewhat pertinent possibility escaped mention in the first news accounts, which depicted the incident as a bizarre and premeditated assault.
Best of all, the length of the deranged barracuda was soberly reported as eight feet—the supernatural equivalent of, say, a 90-pound squirrel.
By the time this newspaper delved into the fish story, it was too late to stem the hype. The barracuda's victim had granted an exclusive interview to ABC's Good Morning America, so an entire breakfasting nation got to hear the terrifying tale and view the actual sutures.
For those of us who have devoted our lives to scaring people away from Florida, it was a magic moment.
In the past, periodic creature attacks—sharks, gators, snakes, etc.—rated attention mainly from breathless local TV anchors and junky tabloid shows. But this was the big time! This was a legitimate network program embracing the legend of the mutant barracuda and beaming it into millions of households. You can't put a price on that kind of publicity.
And almost immediately the phones began to jangle with reports of other horrifying attacks. An Alabama man, fishing in Bradenton, was said to have incurred minor wounds when struck by a leaping 'cuda. A wire-service account quoted a "shark expert" in Gainesville as saying the incident was "an amazing fluke. I've never even heard of [barracudas] jumping out of the water."
Not in Gainesville, anyway.
The fact is, barracudas are adroit jumpers, especially in pursuit of bait fish. The theory that they would utilize this talent to terrorize tourists is intriguing, but far-fetched. Seasoned fishermen and charter captains crack up at the notion of a killer 'cuda, stealthily circling a boatload of pink-skinned visitors who peer innocently into the brine, adjusting their rented snorkels for that first, fateful dive ...
Yet I would urge native Floridians not to rush forward and punch holes in such a valuable myth. If people choose to believe that a primordial genetic code has gone haywire, and that a normally indifferent ocean species has turned savagely against humans (particularly those visiting from out-of-town), then by all means let them believe it.
To intervene with dull facts would only squander a prime opportunity. The appetite for weird Florida news is obviously so insatiable that the national media is ready to jump on any story, no matter how flimsy. We must ride the momentum, and keep the barracuda panic alive. Keep the calls and letters coming.
It's been years since Jaws was a hit, but lots of people still carry a phobia about sharks. The 'cuda scare has even greater potential because the "attacks" occur out of the water.
No one would be safe from flying barracudas. A splash, a gleam of silver—and suddenly a volleyballer on South Beach is scalped, mid-spike. Two lovers, minced beyond recognition during a midnight stroll on the jetty. A tawny young rollerblader, brutally truncated while skating along a seawall.
Would it ever end? For God's sake, somebody do something. Somebody call Spielberg.
Crime coverage based on how far tourist traveled
January 16, 1994
The new tourist season brings anxiety and trepidation, as South Florida braces for more rotten publicity about crime.
During the past week, visitors from Chile, Bolivia and Switzerland were assaulted by robbers in the Miami area. Although nobody was killed or seriously injured, the incidents received exhaustive news coverage.
Many Floridians are perplexed by the sensational attention these robberies are getting. Smash-and-grabs have been happening for years, and ordinarily they don't make the news. These days it's a lead story.
We in the media should come clean and explain our new guidelines for covering crime. Simply put: If it happens to a tourist, it's a major story. If it happens to a local … well, tough luck.
As victims, tourists draw more sympathy. Locals get mugged and shot on a nightly basis; the presumption is that we ought to expect it. Tourists, however, arrive in Florida with a certain sunny innocence. The presumption is that criminals ought to cut them a break.
In fact, that seems to be happening. Metro-Dade Police report that robberies of tourists have declined sharply since last spring. The figures have drawn media notice and applause from the chambers of commerce.
Buried in the stories was the fact that the total number of robberies in Dade has actually increased, meaning the thugs are merely redirecting their felonious energies toward local residents. No one seems terribly concerned. The coverage of tourist crime offers a revealing lesson in competitive journalism.