No news can be news (5/25/05)

Sometimes the dog doesn't bark, as Sherlook Holmes reminds us.

But sometimes that in itself is news.

Earlier this month, in the run-up to the launching of the X-Plex multi-faceted entertainment center that's the brainchild of local entrepreneur Glynn Barber, there was a flurry of concern about the venue's opening event, a heavy metal rock concert.

First, zoning officials did some puzzling and fussing over whether concerts were part of the original plan.

Barber had specified that the place was for recreation and entertainment, but live concerts hadn't been on the list of "for instances" that he presented.

Zoning folks had to decide whether that mattered or not and decided it didn't.

Then, there was a minor flurry of letters to the editor from folks upset by the lyrics of many of the songs to be performed by the star attractions.

Now, given the fact that it often takes a professional translator with a gifted ear to figure out what the heck singers in heavy metal rock bands are actually saying, this probably wasn't too big a deal. But the concerns were heartfelt and legitimate, and the matter was worthy of public discussion.

And there was plenty of discussion, we gather, in coffee shops, at kitchen tables, and in some churches.

For our part, the newspaper covered the zoning debate as part of our news function and published the letters as part of our role to provide a public forum.

But then, I must admit, we dropped the ball.

When the dog didn't bark, we missed the story.

Some folks apparently were convinced that the X-Plex opener would result in mayhem, criminal activity, and a threat to the public order. It didn't; the dog didn't bark.

And when it didn't bark — when there was no mayhem or threat to the public order — we missed the story. The concert was well-attended. It was a success. Security, with tremendous cooperation from police chief Bob Sours, was never in doubt. Things went off pretty much as planned.

Blame part of our oversight on the tendency to associate news with what is out-of-the-ordinary: If there was no blizzard yesterday, it's not news; if there was a blizzard in the third week of May, it's news.

And blame the other part on me.

Trouble is, I grew up in the 1960s. I've been to more than my share of rock concerts, indoors and out. I can bore even the best rock fan to tears with stories about Jimi Hendrix playing Muncie or Janis Joplin on her last tour with Big Brother and the Holding Company and on and on. (Don't get me started.)

I figured from the beginning, after talking to Glynn Barber and city officials about plans for security, that the concert would go off smoothly.

Not everyone would like it, of course; but attendance wasn't compulsory.

In other words, from the beginning, I figured the dog wouldn't bark. And when it didn't, I missed the news, the good news that things had gone well.

Sorry about that. On the other hand, I'm glad that I was right about the dog not barking.[[In-content Ad]]