THE MONTEREY COUNTY HERALD once employed a restaurant reviewer who was too honest to review restaurants for The Herald. This was back when The Herald was on life support but when it still tried to do normal newspaper things, like reviewing restaurants.
The Reviewer was an actual journalist, fastidious and earnest, with a unique way with words and with an experienced palate for fine dining. He was not a hack, which is to say he took his responsibilities seriously. His readers were smart, and The Reviewer believed he owed them the honest truth. If a restaurant stunk like a skunk, he described the essence. His credibility was at stake.
This drove the publisher crazy. The publisher believed the primary mission of the local newspaper is to enrich the owners of The Herald, the faceless masters who are only interested in squeezing the rag dry. (You’ve never met the owners of The Herald. You never will. The owners of modern newspapers don’t like to make themselves known.)
Anyway, the publisher believed that restaurant reviews exist only as a vehicle to soften up restaurant owners for the purchase of expensive advertising in The Herald’s food section. The publisher hated bad reviews. Good reviews sold more ads. Anyone who’s ever earned a C- in Business Principles 101 at Monterey Peninsula College would know that.
But, alas, The Reviewer was not a business major. He was a journalist with integrity who believed he provided a public service with his honest appraisals of local eateries. He was the publisher’s nightmare.
It made for some awkward moments in the office. Because I was the hapless bastard who served as the executive editor — responsible for guiding The Herald in the direction of its current ruinous state — I was often called upon to mediate these awkward moments.
There was, for instance, an unfortunate incident involving a burger chain that had recently opened with the promise of a lavish advertising budget. The Reviewer’s honest review — yucky burgers, droopy fries, disinterested wait staff — happened to appear on the page facing a full-page advertisement for the joint.
The publisher blew the gasket that sealed his cranium when he read the burger chain review. He stormed downstairs to pace angrily about my newsroom office. All the while, he tried to convince me that The Reviewer had committed the unpardonable sin of honesty and thus deserved to be sacked. The Reviewer was a much-beloved local icon, admired by all who appreciated his honesty. Firing him would bring shame to The Herald. I explained this to the publisher, who gazed upon me blankly, as though I spoke gibberish.
And still the publisher persisted, plotting to rid the newspaper of The Reviewer. He even lined up one of his Rotary Club buddies as a replacement, someone who would take over the food critic responsibilities once The Reviewer could be escorted out of the building. The way it was explained to me by the publisher, his Rotarian pal would be a much better reviewer because he possessed virtually no culinary judgment, no understanding of how restaurants work, but could be trusted to reliably write effusively about the swill he consumed.
In his focused effort to sack our hero, the publisher pored over the restaurant receipts that The Reviewer submitted every week for reimbursement. The publisher fully expected to find an instance in which The Reviewer overcharged the company or sought to be reimbursed for alcohol purchases. (As was the standard practice, The Reviewer paid for the meals and was reimbursed by the company.)
One day the hyperventilating publisher showed up in my office waving The Reviewer’s latest receipts. “Aha!” he said. “I caught him. He’s buying wine at company expense.” He shoved the receipt under my nose and pointed to the line that showed a $24 charge for “Arctic Char.”
I found myself explaining to the publisher that "arctic char" is actually a fish, and not restaurant shorthand for a specific regional chardonnay. The publisher gazed at me blankly, as though I spoke gibberish. — Joe Livernois