Journalists were on disaster's front lines

Think about the people we call "first responders."

Chances are you thought about the men and women in police, fire and possibly military uniforms. They are the ones first on the scene of any disaster, prepared to do their jobs under the worst circumstances imaginable. They are genuine heroes.

Now think about Hurricane Katrina and the devastation of entire communities along the Gulf Coast. When the wind and water were gone, so were homes, hopes and dreams.

Think about New Orleans under water and its most vulnerable people stranded without food or drinking water for days. Standing in attics of houses full of water, poking their heads out of rooftops and waving for help. Trapped on a freeway overpass with absolutely nothing but each other. Gathered in the stench and filth of a convention center and sports arena with no electricity or plumbing. Suffering and dying.

None of us will ever forget the images and the stories of our nation's worst-ever natural disaster. In some way we are all victims of Hurricane Katrina. We may sleep soundly in our beds tonight, but the nightmare of what nature can do to us is more real because of what we have witnessed.

Think about the people we call "first responders."

Chances are you didn't think about the men and women with notebooks, pens, cameras and microphones. They, too, are the ones first on the scene of any disaster, prepared to do their jobs under the worst circumstances imaginable.

When you saw videotape or a photograph of someone who has lost everything, or when you read the quotes of someone begging for assistance, the first responder who was there was a journalist. On the ground, in the water, face to face with tragedy.

For victims in New Orleans who waited days to be rescued, their only hope was that someone would give voice to their desperation, that awareness of their plight would move someone to act.

When I think of those first responders, I think about the men and women of The Times-Picayune in New Orleans, who were forced to evacuate their building Tuesday. At first they had no way to print and distribute their newspaper, but they continued to publish online even as their own homes and lives were torn apart.

By Friday, The Times-Picayune was being printed at the Houma Courier, a neighboring newspaper owned by The New York Times, and distributed to evacuees living in shelters. Jim Amoss, a New Orleans native and editor of The Times-Picayune since 1990, told CNN that people grabbed the newspaper like it was food.

First responders also help people before disasters, and The Times-Picayune certainly tried. In 2002 it published a five-part series that was prescient. The summary of the series said, "It's only a matter of time before South Louisiana takes a direct hit from a major hurricane. Billions have been spent to protect us, but we grow more vulnerable every day."

When I think of first responders today, I think about Scott Gold of the Los Angeles Times, who wrote some of the most compelling stories The Seattle Times published last week. He took readers into the hellhole of the Louisiana Superdome:

"At least two people, including a child, have been raped as the arena darkened at night. At least three people have died, including one man who jumped 50 feet to his death, saying he had nothing to live for."

Gold reported the Superdome "had degenerated into unspeakable horror." He knows. He was there.

I also think about Matt Rourke, a photographer for the Austin American-Statesman, who took a photo The Times used large on Page 1 Thursday. It was an extreme close-up of the faces of a weeping mother and her 18-month-old daughter who had fled in a boat from their home in Metairie, La. The image is so powerful that we are using it in public-service advertising on behalf of hurricane victims.

You probably have your own unforgettable images and stories from the hurricane. Stop to consider what someone had to do to capture those moments.

Thinking about journalists as first responders takes nothing away from the men and women in police, fire and military uniforms. Without the courage, service and sacrifice of emergency rescue workers, we would be lost. They are genuine heroes.

But, as the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina shows, so too are the first responders of the press.

Inside the Times appears in the Sunday Seattle Times. If you have a comment on news coverage, write to Michael R. Fancher, P.O. Box 70, Seattle, WA 98111, call 206-464-3310 or send e-mail to mfancher@seattletimes.com. More columns at www.seattletimes.com/columnists