Page Two
By Nick Barbaro, Fri., March 28, 1997
Could we do it again the next year? And the answer was -- surprisingly to us -- yes. Next year, in a very brief page two column, was the declaration that this would be our last issue, because the chron was going out of business, as of april 1; then we shut down the office on friday and let everyone take a day off. Really, this one was probably too cruel.
Every one of the local media had to chase the rumor down, even if they pretty much knew it was an April fools hoax. Day one, we were on three local network affiliates, if memory serves. This was starting to be more embarrassing than fun. However, this didn't stop us from having another go at it last year; in what was a true masterpiece of bad journalism (if I do say so myself), we put together a nightmare vision of what a tabloid daily might look like, announced that we were building a new printing plant upstream from barton Springs, and were going to daily publication as of the following monday (the first, coincidentally).
Yikes; despite what again seemed to be glaringly obvious clues (including a cover story reporting that a certain entertainment conglomerate had signed a contract with the state, giving them publishing rights to all locally produced music, past and future), folks far and wide bought into it. One notable call came from our supposed publishing partner, a major newspaper chain out of the midwest, who called to say that their operations department didn't know anything about this plant opening, and could we explain the details of the agreement? Unbelievable? Ahh... Regrettably, perhaps, not. Every year, of course, the lesson has been essentially the same: One, most of us don't read very carefully most of the time. Next, given that that's the case, there's a real tendency to take what we read at face value. Throw in the aura of authenticity that comes with the printed (or broadcast, or net-cast) word, and you have a powerful presumption of credibility, at least on a subconscious level.
Heck, some readers even got angry with us on those very grounds: how dare we print this type of known falsehoods, thus undermining the very faith of the people in a just and trustworthy press. Everyone, if we don't watch it, is going to start doubting everything they read or hear in the media. We wouldn't want that, would we? Right about then, the true and righteous mission of the april fools issue suddenly came into clear focus.
Oh, no, it isn't just a silly little post-SXSW diversion that lets some readers feel superior, and holds others up to ridicule. No, what it is, is a good-natured annual reminder to keep your senses about you when you sample the media's wares; it's not about taking trust out of the process, but of putting critical thinking in. Granted, it's about the silliest, most self-serving rationalization you'll ever see, but heck, it's the season.
That, then, is the story behind the april fool's day tradition. Read at your own risk. As for this year's edition, let's just say that we think it's our best one yet. Concept, execution -- the whole package just fell together beautifully; thanks as always to the staff who put in so much time and effort, and we hope you find it every bit as funny as we do. (Klue: for those of you looking for clues as to the nature of this year's gag, there are four hidden messages embedded in this column -- you know, italic type, that sort of thing -- and we have free t-shirts for up to five clever readers; to enter the drawing, send a postcard with your name, phone number or address, and the four hidden phrases, to Deborah Wilson, 4000 N. IH-35, Austin, 78765).
