A dumb headline that didn’t even make sense cost an ESPN headline writer his job this weekend.

At worst it was a racial slur. At best it was offensive, insensitive and politically incorrect.

According to published reports, the headline that caused the stir was on ESPN’s mobile website for barely more than half an hour, and not at a particularly high-traffic time — from 2:30 a.m. to 3:03 a.m. Saturday. Someone realized it was inappropriate, but not fast enough.

The headline would have accurately told the story about the end of the Knicks’ winning streak without raising an eyebrow — if the subject hadn’t been about an Asian American.

The headline was “Chink in the Armor: Jeremy Lin’s 9 Turnovers Cost Knicks in Streak-stopping Loss to Hornets.”

The phrase “Chink in the armor” has nothing to do with race, but rather refers to a weakness. But when you’re talking about the NBA’s only Asian American player, a sudden superstar, you’ve got to know better.

Forgive the stereotype, but sports headline writers in particular seem to fall prey to puns and cliches, while readers just want to know what the story is about. Puns are more often hits than misses. They are rarely funny or clever.

Should the ESPN headline writer have lost his job? That was probably overkill. It depends on whether the headline was written with malice or whether it was an insensitive, credibly dumb mistake. The outcome is a teachable moment — for all of us in the news business.

My advice to staff is don’t try to be cute in headlines and stories. Or tweets. And be sensitive to possible slurs, double meanings, or misunderstandings. If there’s more than one way to interpret a phrase in a story or headline, that’s too many. Change it.

Expose a bedbug to the light and it scurries away.

Expose an agency that should be eradicating bedbugs, and its leaders blame the media.

Saratoga Springs Housing Authority board chairman Dennis Brunelle apologized the other day to Stonequist Apartments residents for the "media hysteria" regarding the bedbug problem.
He has it backwards.

He should be apologizing to the residents of this federally subsidized building for pooh-poohing the bedbug complaints right up until this week, when the bugs were found (and finally exterminated) from 43 of Stonequist’s 176 apartments.

Had the authority solved the problem when some Stonequist Apartments residents complained about bedbugs last summer, the SSHA would have remained way under the public radar. The lack of oversight, cavalier spending of public funds, nepotism, and Director Ed Spychalski’s outrageous salary and perks would never have come to light.

Without "media hysteria," Brunelle would still be insisting the bedbugs were a minor issue. And he and his fellow board members might have been thinking that Spychalski was due for another raise. After all, they had no qualms about the doubling of Spychalski’s salary to $152,000 over a five-year period and still maintain that he’s worthy every penny and then some.

So what’s new?

Brunelle now says the board will review salaries to see where Spychalski’s stands. That’s something that would not have even been considered without the "media hysteria."

Also, the state Comptroller’s Office has agreed to conduct an audit requested by Saratoga Springs Mayor Scott Johnson. The audit request was a good move, though Johnson a latecomer to the party considering that he appoints SSHA board members and his name appears on the monthly SSHA newsletter. He should have been pushing harder, behind the scenes and publicly.

While Johnson dipped his toe, his colleague on the City Council, Accounts Commissioner John Franck, dove in. Franck helped bring the SSHA shortcomings to public light — or fueled the media frenzy, depending on your point of view.

And now a U.S. senator has gotten into the act. Chuck Grassley of Iowa is demanding that the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development, which funds housing authorities, investigate the SSHA. Grassley has sparked similar investigations in other places and describes himself on his website as a watchdog of federal agencies.

As I promised in a column a couple of weeks ago, The Saratogian continues to chip away at this ongoing story. Call it media madness. I call it doing our job as public watchdogs.

It’s a shame it took a bedbug infestation for the rest of us to notice the SSHA. To get rid of pests, you have to shine a light.

My last blog post went into raptures over downtown, but we know it isn’t perfect. There are holes – though most of them get filled before long.

I am excited about David Zecchini’s latest innovation, a tapas restaurant on Broadway expected to open in May. And though I shoe’d myself almost exclusively through the Shoe Depot for years, I’m glad that space is due to be filled, too.

But what’s happening with the Border’s bookstore space? It’s been empty almost a year now.

I miss Border’s.

I miss the atmosphere, the books and the music in its heyday, and the public restrooms.

In Hamilton, N.Y., the Colgate University bookstore is actually in the heart of downtown, making it easy for the locals to at least buy the best sellers.

Granted, Hamilton is a much smaller community, and the Border’s spot ought to generate property taxes, and the Skidmore students shouldn’t have to travel a mile from campus to get to their books and T-shirts.

But still. I can dream, can’t I?

What a great city this is.

You know thousands of people from out of town were thinking this as they waited cheerfully in lines dozens (and sometimes hundreds) of people long Saturday for a cup of chowder.

What a great city. So many shops, such a nice downtown, such an interesting mix of old and new architecture. The almost spring-like weather helped, sure. But Chowderfest has become such a tradition that people come anyway. I wanted to buy some kettle corn for my staff but even that line was about 60 people long. I’m used to maybe one or two people on line.

I shake my head in wonder when people who live in the nearby suburbs tell me they hardly ever come to downtown, to browse, shop or eat.

Yes, this is a great city, but it’s not just because of the shops, the restaurants and the architecture. It’s the people.

A press release crossed my electronic desk this morning with the heading: “Music Mayhem -- For the Love of Scott."

The long-time manager of Gaffney's Restaurant, Kim Smith, and her husband Scott, have been struggling with his brain cancer for the last two years.

On Sunday afternoon (Feb. 12), more than 20 local musicians and many local business owners will come together for one afternoon to host a music fest to help them financially through this crisis. I hope they have a great turnout.

Kim knows when she seats me and my husband for dinner on Friday evenings not to offer me anything from the bar —I’m on a dinner break. She always has a smile for her customers, longtime or new.

“This woman and her husband are truly loved by the entire community," said Marianne Barker, an organizer of the event along with Rick Bolton.

"When asking the Gaffney's family of musicians to play for this event, it was as if I had asked them if they wanted to play Carnegie Hall for a million dollars,” Bolton said in the press release.

"Music Mayhem -- For the Love of Scott” will take place from 1 to 8 p.m. Sunday with food, drink specials, raffles, a silent auction
— and of course, music. Scheduled bands include: Acoustic Circus, Big Medicine, Jeff Brisbin, Steve Candlen, Chris Carey, Brian Gibney & Mikki Bakken of The Fighting 86's, George Fletcher & Folding Money, Erin Harkes, Johnny & The Triumphs, Justin Joyner of Gravity, Phil Drum & Rob Adkins of Low 'N
Lonesone, Matt McCabe, Garland Nelson, New Shoes Blues, Sheri Nolan, Sirsy, Richie Ortiz, Rick Rourke & Lost Wages, Dance Mansion Duo with Marcus Ruggiero & Brian Kelley, Trevor English & Frankie, Ubuntu and Rick Bolton.

Throughout the year, as families cope with illnesses and other tragedies, people step up with moral and financial support. It’s heartbreaking when people are struggling, but so heartwarming when people pull together to help one another. Yes, this is a great city.

Tickets for “Music Mayhem” will be sold at the door, for $10 a person. Donations can be dropped off at Impressions of Saratoga, 368 Broadway or Gaffney's at 16 Caroline St., c/o John Baker, with checks payable to The Scott Smith Fund.

For more information, call Erin Anthony at 309-4549.

Here’s the schedule of entertainment planned for Sunday:

Gaffney's Starting Gate Music

2:00 - 2:25 Ubuntu
2:35 - 3:00 Trevor English & Frankie
3:10 - 3:35 Low 'N Lonesome ~
Phil Drum & Rob Adkins
3:45 - 4:10 Dance Mansion Duo ~
Marcus Ruggiero w/Brian Kelley
4:20 - 4:45 Chris Carey
4:55 - 5:20 Justin Joyner of Gravity
5:30 - 5:55 Steve Candlen
6:05 - 6:30 Jeff Brisbin

Gaffney's Upstairs Music

1:00 - 1:25 Matt McCabe
1:35 - 2:00 Mikki Bakken & Brian Gibney
of The Fighting 86's
2:10 - 2:35 George Fletcher & Folding Money
2:45 - 3:10 Erin Harkes
3:20 - 3:45 New Shoes Blues
3:55 - 4:20 Rick Rourke & Lost Wages
4:30 - 4:55 Acoustic Circus
5:05 - 5:30 Johnny & The Triumphs
5:40 - 6:05 Sirsy
6:15 - 6:40 Richie Ortiz
6:50 - 7:15 Garland Nelson
7:25 - 8:00 Big Medicine & Friends

Their chamber of commerce leaflet calls Woodstock the most famous little town in America. Maybe they’re right. Personally, I’m not into the tie-dye. But my husband and I had a lovely overnight to Woodstock this past Saturday.

The impetus for the trip was a chance to see Aimee Mann at the Bearsville Theater, a cool, friendly venue that would be great in Saratoga. My husband introduced me to Aimee Mann’s music after the movie “Magnolia.” I love her distinctive voice and quirky, albeit sometimes gloomy, lyrics.

I must have been one of the first to jump online to order tickets, because we were front row center. Aimee Mann was almost as close to us as you are to the computer screen you are reading right now. Well, maybe 10 feet away, tops.

This was the fourth time we saw her in concert, and it was our favorite. We saw her one summer in Albany’s Washington Park. We were poured on awaiting the start of the concert, but then the skies parted, our clothes pretty much dried and the concert was quite good. We also saw her in Northampton, and though we had a good time, that night neither the crowd nor Mann seemed really into it. We also saw her Christmas show one year at the Egg.

Anyway, the Bearsville Theater show was our favorite, and she seemed to be having fun, too. In addition to her “standards,” she played about three songs from an upcoming album, all good. She joked that people who go to concerts don’t want to hear new stuff, and thus suggested this would be a good time to go to the bathroom.

Before the show, we noticed Aimee at the The Bear Café, but restrained ourselves from jumping, pointing, hugging or asking for autographs. The Bear Café is fine dining in a lovely but unstuffy setting adjacent to the theater. As someone who enjoys thinking about food, the delicious duck confit will be as much a memory of Woodstock as the concert, and I loved the concert.

Fearful that the night of the concert would be the first big snowstorm of 2012, I booked us a room at the Wild Rose Inn rather than worry about whether we’d have to make it 80 miles home, or even 10 miles to the Saugerties Comfort Inn. Naturally, the weather was fine. But so was the B&B.

We’ve been in the area before, without staying overnight, for the Levon Helm Ramble. Luckily we got to enjoy this close-up with the former drummer from The Band while he was still able to do quite a bit of singing. How fun to be in an intimate setting with great musicians.

I am so excited about Friday afternoon’s debut of the George Lucas movie “Red Tails,” starring Oscar winner Cuba Gooding Jr. I hope it will sear into the public memory the story of the Tuskegee Airmen, the African-American World War II fighter pilots who served bravely and with dignity in the face of racial indignities.

My special interest is because one of those men is a member of our community who is dear to my heart, Clarence Dart.

Clarence and his wife Millie raised their family in a cozy Saratoga Springs home that I was lucky enough to move next door to some 30 years ago. It was several years before I realized this modest man flew 95 missions — and was shot down twice — as a member of the famed Tuskegee Airmen.

I wasn’t the only one slow to recognize a hero in our midst. It wasn’t until 2007 that the Tuskegee Airmen were honored with a Congressional Gold Medal. Fortunately, Clarence Dart and family members were among those present for the long-overdue recognition. Various local ceremonies honoring Clarence Dart have since followed.

I tweeted Wednesday about the upcoming movie and, an admitted Twitter novice, I was astonished at the endless string of tweets with the #redtails hashtag. I am in good company, nationwide.

“It’s important to have a movie like this,” said Clarence Dart’s son, Warren, a Maple Avenue Middle School teacher, in an interview with Saratogian reporter Paul Post. “I wouldn’t know this history if my father wasn’t a Tuskegee Airman. They didn’t teach it when I was in school. It wasn’t talked about.” You can read Paul Post’s story and see a trailer of the movie on The Saratogian website at http://saratogian.com/articles/2012/01/19/news/doc4f17934bcf713697231442.txt

The plan for Friday afternoon is for Clarence, 91, to be accompanied to “Red Tails” by his 10-year-old grandson, Gregor. A film about black fighter pilots is called “Red Tails” because the segregated pilots set apart their planes by painting the tails red. I hope the debut will be a red letter day.

This is the basically true story of why you didn’t get a Christmas or Hanukkah card from the Lombardo family, with apologies to Clement Clark Moore.

‘Twas four days before Christmas, and all through the house
Not one card had been written; I felt like a louse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
And above them stood cards sent by folks far and near.

I should have been nestled all snug in my bed,
But tackled our Christmas and Hanukkah cards instead.
I dug out the address book and holiday stamps
And settled down to write cards till my old fingers cramped.

Next morning, I “mailed” them with a bit of a clatter
In the box on my porch, thinking what will it matter.
But someone swooped by, lively and quick,
And stole all the cards – and it wasn’t Saint Nick.

Leaving mail in the open was naïve if not crazy,
With a mailbox on the corner, I was really just lazy.
Some Grinch who was grabbing for gift cards or cash
Ripped off all the cards and dumped them as trash.

One envelope did hold a year-end donation,
So I thought I should notify the city police station.
First I webwised my bank to note payment should stop,
Then I called the dispatcher, who sent over a cop.

Worries about the stolen check started to mount.
What if some crook could rip off my account?
The bank mailed me a form that would give them the sway
To doublecheck signatures on checks sent their way.

Two days after Christmas, I went to the bank
With the bank form in hand, feeling slightly a crank.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But the stolen check, with a bit of a tear.

“Does this look familiar?” the teller implored.
It was found taped that morning to the bank’s big front door!
Thank you, kind person, who gave of their time,
Thus closing the book on this holiday crime.

The holiday season has truly been fleeting;
The time’s past for Hanukkah and Christmas greetings.
But this doesn’t mean the Lombardos don’t care.
So I’ll wish you all now: Happy, healthy New Year!

Two Saratogian staffers, reporter Suzanna Lourie and photographer Erica Miller, are among journalists statewide who will be honored Friday at a gathering of NYSARC. I'm so proud to have The Saratogian recognized by this group.
NYSARC describes itself as "a family-based organization working with and for people who have intellectual and other developmental disabilities."
That is a wordy but more accurate description of an organization that, when established in 1949, was commonly known at the Association for Retarded Children, and then retarded citizens. They have successfully purged "mentally retarded" from their lingo because of its negative and inaccurate connotations. And they are fighting a winning battle to raise community consciousness about how to thoughtfully and accurately refer to people with disabilities.
An abbreviated version of NYSARC's mission is "to improve the quality of life for people who have intellectual and other developmental disabilities and their families in every manner possible, including but not limited to: education, training, rehabilitation, family support, recreation and guardianship."
The statewide organization has annual media awards to recognize photographers and print and broadcast stories that further the goal of "awareness through communication."
County branches of the organization submit local work for the judging. The winners are invited to an awards luncheon that is part of NYSARC's annual convention. I'll be joining Erica and Suzanna. Their work, as well as many others submitted statewide, are examples of how the media can and should inform the public and while treating people with disabilities with dignity.

“You take the high road and I’ll take the low road,” has been on the tip of my tongue for days. No, it is not the athem for journalists. It’s the famous tune from Scotland, and I’m still on a high a lovely week in the highlands — including a mini-Minnehaha-like tour of Loch Lomand, the lake with the bonnie, bonnie banks.

Our whirlwind Taste of Scotland was with Mary Huber’s Edventures. All 11 on the tour had traveled with Edventures before and knew one another; Jim and I enjoyed Florence, Lucca and Rome in 2008.

Our “Edventure” quickly became an “adventure” when shortly after takeoff from Newark we had a bird strike. “I heard a noise and saw fire coming out of the engine,” said the fellow sitting in the window seat next to me.

The pilot said we were heading back to Newark rather than cross the Atlantic with one good engine. No argument there. He explained that our plane, loaded with fuel, was heavier than normal for a landing and the fire engines and ambulances that we’ll see on the ground will be there merely as a precaution. Okey dokey.

Everyone was calm, though I did a few extra rounds of the “sh’ma,” the No. 1 Jewish prayer. We landed safely and, luckily, an identical jet, sans birds, was available. So off we went, only two hours late. Not bad.

Scotland was unseasonably warm and dry, with just enough mist in the mountains to make it picture-perfect. The pines, fall foliage and rolling hills are reminiscent of the Adirondacks, though only one peak, the Ben Nevis, would qualify for 46ers. Sheep are everywhere, up and down the hills — supplemented here and there by goats and cattle. And the winding roads (with everyone driving on the wrong side!) were often one lane wide, if that.

Saratoga County’s town of Edinburgh probably has its share of sheep, goats and cattle. But Scotland’s city of Edinburgh — pronounced Edinburrah — is a walkable city with lots of friendly people, castles, museums new and old, pubs, fine dining, streets lined with gray stone homes, many hundreds of years old. I loved the way everyone sounded like Sean Connery (and we saw the school where he delivered milk and Ian Fleming, the James Bond author, was a student).

A huge piece of Scottish history involves the April 16, 1746 Battle of Culloden, which is explained at a fantastic visitors center through the eyes of both sides — those favoring the British government led by the Duke of Cumberland and the Jacobites, led by Charles Edward Stuart, who hoped to return his family to power. The dual storytelling technique would work equally well at the Saratoga Battlefield or Gettysburg.

The interactive visitor center accomplished what our otherwise patient guide, Morag Brodie, could not, despite two days of trying to get a bit of Scottish history straight in our thick American heads. In our defense, no one in Scottish history has one name. William Wallace is Braveheart, played by Mel Gibson. Check. But over the centuries, monarchs had more name changes than Prince. Roman numerals bounced backwards and forwards. And it took a while for the bulb to light up about the Jacobites (Latin for followers of James): Charles Edward Stuart and Bonnie Prince Charles, are the same guy.

The food in Scotland was quite good, with fresh salmon and top-notch beef. Breakfasts included fried or poached eggs with roasted tomatoes and mushroom on the side. I finished off a serving of haggis but couldn’t do more than a teeny forkful of black pudding. The only whiskey I had was a glass of 18-year-old Glenlivet at the end of the distillery tour. Sorry, but it’s not my kind of drink. Good news, the cosmopolitans at the bar in the Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh, with a piece of orange peel instead of the usual lime, were delicious.

Highlights of the trip were the scenery, the boat ride on Loch Lomand, Stirling Castle and Glamis Castle, St. Andrews, and walking around Edinburgh.

Lucian McCarty was doing his job as a multi-media reporter on the day one man stabbed another in a “road rage” incident in Wilton. He interviewed people, wrote a story, and shot a video.
The video shows the track of blood in the parking lot leading into the Wilton CVS and contains an interview with the clerk who saw the stabbing victim and called 911.
Good work, McCarty.
Next thing I know, I’m handed a subpoena (as head of the newsroom) commanding me (yes, the subpoena includes the phrase, all in capital letters, “WE COMMAND YOU … ”) to appear before the Saratoga County Grand Jury with a copy of the video, including all out takes.



Anyone can see the video on The Saratogian website. But the outtakes? Um, I don’t think so.
A journalist should not impede an investigation or a court proceeding. And sound case law precludes a news organization from being forced to disclose material that it gathers. Exceptions to the rule would be based on this reasonable three-prong test: that the items or information sought is highly material to the case, is critical to the litigant’s claim, and is not otherwise available.
The Saratogian argued that the material sought by the prosecution did not pass that test, and the demand was modified to require only a disk of the video as it appears online.
That was a fair solution. Reporters routinely take more notes and more video footage than they end up publishing. It would be an unnecessary and excessive intrusion for reporters to be expected to work under the cloud of having to turn over their notes or outtakes. Nothing we could have provided would have helped or hindered the case.
Being subpoenad for video was a new experience for us here at The Saratogian. The first time I received a subpeona, I was a rookie reporter ordered to appear before the grand jury for something I wrote. My publisher at the time hired an attorney, a move that blossomed into a relationship (between the publisher and the attorney) and a 30-plus-year marriage.
No romance is in the cards this time around. The subpoena was withdrawn — and my current publisher is already married.