Why associate a homicide with an apparently unrelated business? A recent Enquirer story said an Over-the-Rhine shooting was "a block south of Findlay Market." The headline said it was "near Findlay Market." Nothing in the story said or indicated the victim or shooter had anything to do with Findlay Market except proximity. Would The Enquirer say "a block south of P&G" in a story that doesn't tie a homicide to the corporation? Not likely.  

Cincinnati's only daily newspaper recently performed a valuable public service by shining a spotlight on how some little-watched government boards spent money. At a time when most county workers must forego pay raises and take unpaid furlough days to help balance the budget, employees at some independent county agencies quietly got nearly $941,000 in bonuses.  

My favorite reading includes corrections. Everyone errs. Some admit it and correct their errors. Graphs, maps and percentages figure prominently in corrections, but names of people and places most often seem to trip us up. Get a name wrong, and it becomes journalism history if not local legend. Unless it's corrected, others reporters may rely on that spelling and get into all kinds of trouble.   

The Enquirer today performed its daily newspaper version of multimedia progress, sending a reporter out with a hand-held thermometer on a 90-degree day to measure the heat. Prefacing his discoveries with the acknowledgment that only a fraction of people in Cincinnati didn't already know it was hot as hell outside, this intrepid layoff-dodger recorded such fascinating discoveries as a 113-degree metal picnic table and 133-degree asphalt.  

Splashed across The Enquirer's front page May 23 in a font size usually reserved for the declaration of war or World Series championships was the headline "Poll: Most Oppose Streetcars." The article's tone was quickly set by its claim that Cincinnatians oppose the city's proposed $128 million streetcar project 2-to-1. But if readers delved into the poll's details, which The Enquirer posted online but not in the newspaper, they found some important nuances — like the pro/con opinion was actually almost evenly split. Huge nuance.  

Gannett's Indianapolis Star has a real mess on its hands involving a breach of ethics and the readers' trust, started when the paper "repurposed" a three-year-old feature story and photo spread on summer camps in a new camp guide advertising section without the reporter's or photographer's knowledge. The old story was labeled "special advertising feature" and presented as if it contained up-to-date information. I asked Enquirer Editor Tom Callinan about his policy on the separation of news- and advertising-oriented content.  

James O'Reilly has taught law at the University of Cincinnati for 30 years and has written dozens of textbooks and more than 100 articles on regulation and liability. With that type of expertise, it's not surprising that Hamilton County commissioners chose him to co-chair a task force examining methods for improving the efficiency of county government. But even a mind as sharp and quick-witted as O'Reilly's can be challenged when facing off against entrenched politicians and bureaucrats trying to protect their turf.  

We're watching the meltdown of another story that was too good to be true, too vivid and contemporary to challenge: the runaway California Prius. It didn't take long before the California driver's claims were restated as facts: uncontrolled speed, inability to slow or stop and heroic cop who played a role in averting disaster. It made sense if you believed the hype about Toyota problems. It was too good a story.   

In today's cultural, intellectual and financial world, I can't imagine a media job with less potential than science reporter. When your sources become objects of public scorn and ridicule, what's to write? In a nation accustomed to seeking simple answers to complex questions and a culture increasingly driven by belief rather than evidence, scientists today often are trying to communicate with the willfully deaf.  

General Electric boss Jeffrey Immelt wants major businesses to create a regional cooperative to deal with major shortcomings (limited access, rising costs) of our health system. Something similar was tried in 1992, when the big four employers (P&G, Kroger, GE Aviation and Cincinnati Bell) basically sought to control costs by demanding that hospitals demonstrate cost effectiveness. Facing threats to their fees, unhappy physicians used scare tactics to predict a health care crisis as specialists left for more lucrative cities.