Oh, the pit-bull aggression, the terrier determination, the intellectual rigor of these journalistic warriors. The Tribune's Mark Flatten starts off, spouting a truly loony query that implies the timing of Symington's 23-count indictment was, through some American Spectator type of conspiracy, linked to the conviction of Arkansas Governor Jim Guy Tucker. Manella seems puzzled, responds vaguely. Then the local TV children jump in, chests puffed out in their pinstriped suits, shouting loud, foolish questions over one another, unintentional parodies of a post-lobotomy Sam Donaldson. Phoenix FBI spokesmen step to the sides of the lectern, attempting to guide the questions away from the video screamers. Other queries are made--a couple so far off-point that Manella has to confess she does not understand them--and then the TV types try shouting their way into prominence again. The gathering sputters to an end, questions having elicited virtually no information not contained in the indictment and Manella's statement.
The coverage that follows is precisely as puffed up, as essentially phony as the behavior at the government's press conference. At the press conference, reporters representing news outlets that have ignored or misrepresented or defended Fife Symington's conduct for years present themselves as snarling watchdogs. Over the next few days, their voluminous reports convey the image of a serious press intent on examining every nook and cranny of the Symington legacy.
Suffusing this mass of rather superficial reporting is a theme. Newspapers and television reports repeatedly bemoan the national shame the indictment of Symington will bring to the state, coming just eight short years after the impeachment of Evan Mecham. Our state has been victimized again. How ever will we cope with his ignominy?
I genuinely hope that Arizona is embarrassed fully and nationally in coming months. A state deserves to be shamed if it tolerates newspaper managers and prosecutors and opposition leaders who worry about public integrity only when provided with the imprimatur of federal indictments. I would not mind if the shame lasts for months.
It probably will.
The final stage in a game of chess is known as the endgame. Often, this phase of play is subtle, tense, elegant; one miscue and the opponent gains irreversible advantage. But the endgame King Fife the Third will play is not going to be much of a contest; he will resign or be politically and legally checkmated.
Either way, however, he is likely to remain on the throne for at least a few months. If he opts to tough it out and stand trial, the discovery process will probably push his day in court into next year. A resignation decision probably will not come until the utter isolation of federal indictment sinks in, the money to pay lawyers becomes scarce, the prospect of prison seems suddenly, astonishingly real, and the likelihood of acquittal on 23 highly documented felony charges appears as small as it really is. Past experience with ethically challenged pols suggests that process will take four to six months.
Perhaps the opinion-makers of Phoenix will use that time to decide whether they will begin doing their jobs honestly, or continue to watch bloody coups well into the future.
--Mecklin
