The Yang Slinger: Vol. XLI

I was raised to hate the nut graf. H-a-t-e it. But with age and experience, I'm no longer entirely sure where I stand. So let's grab a bowl of cashews and discuss.

He still remembers being a young writer, sitting at his desk inside the offices of The (Nashville) Tennessean back in the mid-1990s, wondering what his fourth paragraph should convey.

The first paragraph served as a catchy opener. The second paragraph backed that up as a reinforcement. The third paragraph was a quote.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Jeff Pearlman said. “I was confused by what my editors were telling me.”

What they were telling the green writer was that the fourth paragraph was required by Gannett newspaper law to be the “nut graf”—basically a paragraph early in the article that informs the reader what, specifically, the piece is concerning. The nut graf exists so the reader isn’t confused by the topic or thrown off by a meandering scribe uncertain of where he is headed. It is usually followed by a fifth paragraph doubling as another quotation.

“I hated the nut graf then,” Pearlman said. “And I just might hate it now, too.”

It’s all true.

I was a young writer at The Tennessean.

I was told by my editors that—according to a rule enforced by Gannett and reenforced by Craig Moon, our lord, savior and grouchy publisher—every single story needed to have a nut graf. By “every single story,” I don’t mean every single story written by Jeff Pearlman. No, I mean every … single … story that appeared in The Tennessean—period.

And with that ordinance, laid out via Frank Sutherland (our editor in chief) in a staff meeting in, oh, 1994, the mighty nut graf blitzkrieg commenced. I was working in the Living (aka: features) Section at the time, and on approximately 873 occasions one of my editors would call me into an office and say, bluntly, “Your article is fine, but it lacks a nut graf.”

To which I would think: “Go fuck a mule.”

To which I would reply: “No, it’s there.”

“Where?” my editor would say.

To which I would think: “Seriously, go fuck a mule.”

To which I would reply: “Right there, below the lede.”

I’d point to some words. He would read, then mumble, then mumble some more, then curse his lot in life, then wonder whether it was too late to enroll in dental school, then say, “Jeff, that’s not a nut graf.”

And, if I’m being honest, my editor was 100-percent correct. It was not a nut graf. Because I didn’t merely resent the idea of a nut graf—I was, as a scribe with big dreams and a bigger ego, legitimately offended by it. Writing, in my young mind, was art. And I was an artist. If I wanted to tell the story of, oh, a blind, one-armed Franklin milk maid without force feeding some fourth paragraph down the readers’ collective throat, I was gonna do it and do it well.

Hell, from the time I was sports editor of my high school student newspaper, I’d believed in the singular concept that there were myriad ways to unravel a story, and that one method was no better than another method. So, to suddenly turn professional and be told that—nah, breh—there’s only one way, and it’s the nut graf way … eh, it didn’t sit well.

In order to fight back, I tried to unravel the history of the nut graf. I’d been led to believe that, once upon a time, some corporate goober boy (perhaps named Nutty McNutt) in the penthouse of the Gannett skyscraper took five seconds off from reading the latest we-need-cutbacks spreadsheet to announce, “From here on out let’s incorporate an early-article explanatory statement, and we’ll call it ‘The Nut Graf!” But, truth be told, the idea of the nut graph seems to harken back to 1941, when a Wall Street Journal managing editor named Barney Kilgore was tired of his writers using too much space and too much time to get to the point of the story. Wrote Chip Scanlan in a 2003 piece headlined, THE NUT GRAF TELLS THE READER WHAT THE WRITER IS UP TO …

Somewhere along the way, the nut graf (also spelled “nut graph”) took off and took over. In 1982 a Tampa Tribune reader named Virginia M. Payne wrote a letter to the editor, complimenting the newspaper on its overall usage of the nut …

Seven years later, Lou Ziegler, editor of the Springfield News-Leader, urged the newspaper’s readers to, “watch for our ‘nut graphs’ to gauge how we’re doing.”

In a blissful Jan. 24, 1988 column for the El Paso Times, John Laird took the nut graf to task without literally taking it to task …

And, I guess, the questions that linger and linger and linger are: Is the nut graf good or bad? Does it help a story or harm a story? Can a piece flow with a nut graf? Can it flow without a nut graf?

I mean, at 22 I was recoiling at the very idea of having to insert a nut graf in an article. But, sitting here at (almost) 51 and an adjunct journalism professor at Chapman University, do I teach my intro students about the nut graph? Um, eh—yeah. I sorta do. Because most of them don’t really know where to go or how to manage after a lede. And by explaining, “This is the point where you show the reader where they’re headed …”—I dunno. It clarifies (glub) the process more than I like to admit.

It’s actually funny: Earlier today I DMed Harvey Araton, the author and former New York Times columnist, to ask his thoughts on the nut graf. Harvey is one of the all-time greats, and I figured he’d be a strong anti-nutter. And while he’s not exactly a full-on proponent (“I’m not a fan,” he wrote), he had a pretty good saga to share …

“I recently did a short piece on LeBron James for the Times—not sports, but the page 2 inside-the-story feature,” he DMed me. “The space is pretty tight, I wrote a tad long and needed a trim. Here's what the editor trimmed: Late-20th-century basketball stars lounged in locker rooms chatting up small clusters of reporters. We had close access, and the stars were more humanized in our stories. Today’s N.B.A. luminaries, especially James, are powerhouse commercial brands with handlers carefully controlling access and message. It’s harder to humanize a brand.

“The piece rambled some but if I'd had to pick a nut graph, this would've been it: it illustrated the difference between covering Bird/Magic/Michael and LeBron. When I politely pointed that out, the editor, to his credit, said he got what I was saying and restored it. But again, people take what they want from what we do. One man's nut graph is another's waste of paper and pixels.”

Added ESPN’s Tom Junod: “Many years ago, I wrote a story for a business publication here in Atlanta.. The editor of the publication was a notorious blowhard but he thought the story showed promise and asked me to meet him for breakfast. I accepted and he told me something about my story I never forgot. ‘Your writing is terrific but you neglect to say what people really care about at the beginning of a story.’

“‘What’s that?’ I asked.

“‘That the story is going to end,’ he said.

“And that’s what the nut graf does, I think. Sure, it helps the writer define the story. But I think it also assures the reader that, eventually, the story is going to end.”

This Substack entry is a bit undefined and wobbly, and for that I apologize.

The thing is, as I sit here writing I find myself legitimately confused. There’s the old me, barking about the nut graf. There’s the newer me, resigned to the nut graf. There’s the even newer me, feeling as if some stories are naked without nut grafs. There’s my ol’ ESPN pal Seth Wickersham, a brilliant longform pen sizzler telling me that, “A nut graf can often frame your thinking and help you actually write the story.” There’s Brian Moritz, journalism professor at St. Bonaventure, noting, “The way I teach it, the nut graph is often the ‘so what’ of an article. Why, as a reader, am I reading this story right now? The nut graph provides that context, that newsworthiness.” There’s Jeff Gordinier, former Esquire food and drinks editor, adding, “Early in my writing career I think I got the impression (being an annoying young punk) that the concept of the nut graf existed simply to soothe the anxieties of the more traditional editors, and so I devoted myself to subverting and attacking and generally discombobulating the nut graf as much as I could, which I think paradoxically led to more interesting writing — and of course to my eventually giving in to the gentle logic of having a nut graf.”

In search of nut graf clarity, I turned toward my office closet, where a small stack of ancient Sports Illustrateds sit in a corner. I picked up the Jan. 29, 1979 issue, featuring the Pittsburgh Steelers’ Rocky Bleier on the cover.

I began to read.

And read.

And read.

There was this story, on legendary high school basketball coach Morgan Wootten …

It contained a pretty clear nut graf …

There was a piece on Truck Robinson joining the Phoenix Suns …

It contained a pretty clear nut graf …

Truth be told, nearly every story in the 45-year-old issue contained a nut graph—whether the magazine’s writers knew the term or not. It just … wound up there, briefly explaining why, dear God, you might give a shit about the topic at hand.

In fact, I’m now wondering whether nut graphs have been a part of journalism since the very beginning, and—pre-Kilgore—we simply never took the time to label them. Perhaps our brains are wired to explain in simple terms and digest in simple terms, and whether we refer to it as a “nut graf” or a “nutty funk dove” or “Mike Pagliarulo’s spleen”—it’s a thing that’s real and tangible and important. Perhaps young and angry Jeff Pearlman was being young and angry for the sake of young anger.

Hmm.

As always, when in doubt I use this Yang space as an opportunity to pick the brain of Mike Vaccaro, the New York Post sports columnist and journalistic voice of reason.

He had a story …

“When I was in Kansas City I was a takeout writer in addition to a columnist. I literally had license to write as much as i wanted, as long as I wanted, if I had a worthy subject. I was still relatively young and had no business having that kind of freedom. But I also had an editor, Mike Fannin — then the deputy SE, later the SE and, ultimately, editor of the whole paper — who was my ‘nut graph henchman.’ His term. And he was brilliant at it, an absolutely genius line editor.

“And he told me from the start: ‘It’s almost like you go out of your way to bury the nut graph.’ He could be funny: ‘I swear one of these days you’re going to write a column and you aren’t going to make your point until the last fuckin’ word before the -30-.’ He could be angry: ‘I bought a pick ax and a shovel and started mining this endless piece of shit and I STILL can’t find the lead.’ He was devoted to his job. Once he called me at 3 in the morning and read a section of a story that I particularly liked he said would have to be moved down because nobody would ever actually read the story if I didn’t get my fancy writing out of the way and explain why I was doing this story in the first place. He waited while I dragged myself downstairs, opened my laptop, and moved the story around.

“Thing is he was ALWAYS RIGHT. And after awhile I started to understand: don’t mess around. Don’t waste people’s time. Don’t overthink — or, worse, underthink — this. Value and respect the reader’s attention span and thank him in advance by hitting the nut graf before he moves on to something else.

“The moral of the story? I hear Fannin’s voice in my ear every day, 25 years later. Just last week I did the ‘fancy writing’ part of a column first, realized I hadn’t gotten anywhere close to my point in 300 words, and wrote a whole new lede on top of it — leading with the nut graf. I work at a tabloid now so it’s even more important to realize the importance of: get in, quick. Every time I do that I feel like I need to call him thank him for teaching me so well.”

And maybe, just maybe, I was wrong about the nut graf. Maybe I was 22 and cocky and unwilling to listen to anyone or anything that conflicted with my narrow journalistic viewpoint.

Fuck, maybe ol’ Barney Kilgore knew whereof he spoke.

Maybe the nut graf is perfectly fine where it is.

Between paragraphs three and five.

Pissing me off.

The Quaz Five with … Stephanie Stradley

Stephanie Stradley is a Houston-based attorney who spends (some of her) free time blogging about her beloved Houston Texans. You can follow her on Twitter here.

1. Of all the attorneys who also write about the Houston Texans, you're my favorite. Which begs the question: Why, when you're an attorney, do you also try and chronicle football?: Good question. Both an experience beyond fiction and not a sensible use of time. After I started writing about sports, I discovered that a lot of my favorite sportswriters were also lawyers. Makes sense: Highly competitive, looking for winning edges. Analyze vast information to discover what the answers are. Trying to figure out how to make things better for everyone. Explain to wide audiences of friends and strangers in ways that resonate. When the Houston Oilers left with no way to stop it, like many, I was despondent. My dad was in the military, and we moved around a lot as a kid. Houston was the first sports city I lived in. Los Angeles was supposed to get the 32nd NFL team, and instead, the Texans were created. I was all in. Houston Texas is now my home home. I’ve seen the Rockets win championships, the Astros win, and I want to see the Texans win. My writing career started accidentally. My sister Deb created a blog back when few knew what those were, and internet connections were poor. Just about goofy things in her life, trying to use it to do good things, like helping people who came to Houston after Katrina. Her audience got huge after she got sick with a rare form of leukemia. She shared what it felt like to go through chemotherapy and then a stem cell transplant. Writing on heavy drugs from a hospital bed and hearing back from people across the world in real time. When we were hanging out in the hospital so much, she encouraged me to write a Texans blog for the Chronicle. Blogging distracted from everything awful. The Texans community of commenters, fans, players, sportswriters, team were more supportive to me than what I even realized at the time. Talking sports online is a way to bring people together in ways they often can’t physically, making them feel like they are home home. I’m a wildly enthusiastic fan who writes. Sometimes for camp access purposes, I follow press rules and wear that hat. Do enough journalistic things to know that professional journalism and beat writing done well is not easy. But my biases are open, just using my time and talents to create conversations I would like to read. To support things that are good for fans, which includes wanting professional sportswriting to thrive.

2. My son and I recently made a list—"Teams you just don't think about in the NFL." And the Texans were a clear No. 1. I'm wondering, as a local. Do you feel that? Get that? And what, in your mind, has gone wrong?: If I were overly concerned with what random outsiders thought, I certainly wouldn’t do this. But to more directly answer your question, the Steelers were extremely bad for decades until they suddenly weren’t. Pretty much the whole league has had significant head start over the Texans who had to build everything from scratch and didn’t have the same expansion benefits that both the Panthers and Jaguars did when they entered the league. You can get into the weeds about this topic but ultimately all teams need the following things at the same time: money, the right football leadership in place, roster composition that makes sense, them all working together well, luck, and making your own luck. The Texans have been one of those teams that has struggled to find their quarterback, and 2023 is yet another year to get that right. Ultimately, it’s about the GM, coach, players. Various Texans players have pushed the team into relevancy at times, like Andre Johnson or J.J. Watt. One of their best players and leaders was the 2006 Rookie of the Year, DeMeco Ryans. And now he is the head coach, and I would never bet against him.

3. After graduating from UT Law, you worked in-house for Chevron and, a bit later, Marathon Oil. We (especially we uber-libs) tend to view gas and oil companies as these Death Star-esque monoliths run by people who don't care about the earth. Being 100% serious: What are we missing?: My work for energy companies stemmed from pragmatism. I clerked at large firms and felt uncomfortable with billables and the need to specialize right away. The Chevron lawyer who recruited me gave me this pitch: You don’t have to pick a specialization. You can live a life with somewhat normal hours for a lawyer and not bill hourly. You get good benefits. You get to learn a ton of hands-on work about business and law right away. Which I did. Though there may be people who make decisions for specific companies that “don’t care about the earth,” I never ran into those people. To over-simplify, a main thing we did with as lawyers was to figure out how do we continue to produce different forms of energy while minimizing environmental impacts and harm to others. Even back a decades ago when I worked for them, large energy companies acknowledged climate change science. Okay, what do you do with evolving information and views of how to treat the earth? In practical not theoretical terms. How do we make the economics of this work, minimize harm, evolve technology? You are reading this on a device made from chemicals, using energy from various companies run by people. Houston is the energy capital of the planet, filled with brilliant people who are working on what is now and next. Generally, I loathe the cartoon-like, dehumanizing rhetoric that is often used to talk about people and complex issues. I don’t think most public conversations on this are helpful, and political leaders sometimes reinforce some of the least thoughtful views. Like most divisive topics, the harms are easy to see, the hard truths are hard to talk about fairly, coming up with legislative, technical, and societal solutions feels impossible. People feel as they do, and I’m not sure anything I can write can create better understandings.

4. While in law school you were a member of the American Journal of Criminal Law writing staff. Is there any crossover between that type of writing and, say, writing about a football team?: Wow, that is a throwback reference. Can’t say I did a ton of work on the Journal. Being a part of that law review was mostly a membership, based on crushing my first-year criminal law exam eons ago. Hurray for old victories. When I was in college, I became close with an English professor who wanted me to be a writer and not a lawyer. Her dreams for me were bigger than I could fathom, but I also knew I needed money and stability. I knew would be great at lawyering and helping people. But I loved the writing I did in those classes and being a part of writer communities. Thankfully, I don't need to stay in a box, and perhaps one day I will know what I want to be when I grow up. The easy crossover lawyering and sportswriting, I mentioned in the earlier question. For all my non-legal writing, I need to intentionally unlearn and strip a lot of the lawyer out. For a time working for various media outlets, I collaborated with professional editors and learned so much. Really, if I had my way, I’d love to work on more types of writing with professional editing. I miss working on creative things collaboratively with others and hope to do more of that.

5. OK, in 2001 you won $64,000 on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire. A. Can I borrow $64,000? B. What's your craziest memory from the experience?: Yes, spoiler alert, the win is on YouTube. A. No, the money is spent, mostly on taxes and what we call The Regis Driveway B. All the memories from that experience were beyond the weirdest fiction and changed my life completely. The craziest memory was being met off stage by male strippers. Yep, a picture is worth a thousand words …

A random old article worth revisiting …

I have no idea what entered my brain to cause it to look up an article about Cookie Rojas—but, well, here’s an article about Cookie Rojas, written by Ken Leiker for theMay 29, 1976 Maryville Daily Forum …

This week’s college writer you should follow on Instagram …

Derek Kamakanaaloha Soong, NYU

Talk about amazing titles—Derek serves as the identity and equity editor for Washington Square News, NYU’s student newspaper. And their latest piece, HOW SOUTH AMERICAN VEGETABLE IVORY JEWELRY ENDED UP IN BROOKLYN, is as rich and scrumptious as the very world they’re chronicling.

Writes Derek: “In the verdant hills of Colombia, Daniel Neisa spent his childhood surrounded by a crop called tagua. This species is in the genus Phytelephas, which translates literally to “elephant plant,” and produces a walnut-sized nut that, when mature, hardens into a carvable material similar to ivory. Long used by Aboriginal people for food and jewelry and adopted by European explorers for buttons and knife handles, this tree nut has become the inspiration for The Tagua, Neisa’s jewelry store in the picturesque, touristy Brooklyn neighborhood of Dumbo.”

The kid can straight-up write.

One can follow Derek on Instagram here. Bravo.

Jim Murray speaks with …

A new feature to the Pearlman Journalism Substack—thanks to the warped geniuses at Chat GPT, we can sorta kinda see what would happen if Jim Murray, the late/legendary Los Angeles Times columnist, sat down with three random celebrities. This week, here’s what GPT offers from Jim’s meeting with Fab Morvan from Milli Vanilli, the fly that landed on Mike Pence’s head during the 2020 vice presidential debate and Herschel Walker …

Jim Murray: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Jim Murray, and I'm delighted to welcome you all to this very special interview session. Tonight, we're joined by three fascinating guests: former Milli Vanilli member Fab Morvan, former NFL running back Herschel Walker, and the fly that sat atop Mike Pence's head during the vice presidential debate. Welcome to you all.

Fab Morvan: Thanks for having me, Jim.

Herschel Walker: Pleasure to be here.

Fly: Buzz buzz, glad to be included.

Jim Murray: Fab, I have to start with you. It's been over three decades since the Milli Vanilli scandal rocked the music industry. How have you been coping since then?

Fab Morvan: It's been tough, Jim. That period of my life was a rollercoaster of emotions. There was the initial high of success, and then the crushing realization that we were frauds. It was a difficult time for me and my partner, Rob. Sadly, Rob is no longer with us, but I'm doing my best to move forward.

Herschel Walker: I can imagine how tough that must have been, Fab. I've had my own share of ups and downs in the public eye.

Jim Murray: Yes, Herschel, you've had quite the career. From being a Heisman Trophy winner to a successful NFL player and even running for Senate, you've achieved so much. What inspired you to make that jump into politics?

Herschel Walker: Well, Jim, I've always been passionate about giving back to my community. I've been blessed with so much, and I felt it was my duty to serve others. Politics seemed like the next logical step for me.

Fly: Can I chime in here?

Jim Murray: Sure, go ahead.

Fly: I know it might seem strange for me to be here, but I just want to say that I admire both Fab and Herschel for their perseverance. You both faced enormous challenges, and yet you never gave up. That's something to be proud of.

Fab Morvan: Thanks, Fly. That means a lot.

Herschel Walker: I agree. And you know, it's funny, because people might not think that a fly could teach us anything, but you're absolutely right. Persistence is key.

Jim Murray: That's a great point, Herschel. And speaking of persistence, Fly, I have to ask you: what was it like being in the national spotlight during the vice presidential debate?

Fly: (buzzing) Oh, it was quite a ride, Jim. I never expected to become an overnight sensation. But you know, I like to think that I brought a little levity to a tense situation. And hey, I even inspired some Halloween costumes!

Fab Morvan: (laughs) That's true. I saw a few myself.

Herschel Walker: I have to admit, Fly, I was impressed by your ability to stay in one place for so long. That takes some serious focus.

Fly: (buzzing) Thank you, Herschel. It's all about knowing where to land.

Jim Murray: Well, I think that's a great note to end on. Fab, Herschel, Fly, thank you all for joining me tonight. It's been a fascinating conversation.

Fab Morvan: Thank you, Jim.

Herschel Walker: My pleasure.

Fly: Buzz buzz, anytime.

Journalism musings for the week …

Musing 1: I have made a decision to try and be more positive on Twitter. Which is so fucking hard and will likely last a week. So, oy.

Musing 2: Last week one of my all-time favorite neighborhood dogs, Bella, died after 16 1/2 years on earth. Bella was always around and happy for a pet, a rub, a shake. She was also a reminder of how important, as a writer, positivity remains in life. No matter how dark things can get (and did get through the pandemic), Bella was a happy stop on my strolls, blocking my path mid-step to say, “Hey, Jeff. I’m hairy and I need to poop and I no longer bark so well, but I’m sure happy to see you, big guy. Now get back to writing!”

RIP to a great pup.

Musing 3: The New York Times’ Gail Collins has been my favorite columnist for some time, and her latest piece, HOW 90 BECAME THE NEW 60, perfectly shows why. She’s just preposterously conversational and flowy. The pacing in on point. The message is clear, but she doesn’t hammer you over the noggin.

Musing 4: It’s been around a while, but over the past few days I binged on the podcast, DOLLY PARTON’S AMERICA. It’s simply extraordinary work from NPR’s Jad Abumrad and Shima Oliaee, and if you haven’t given it a shot, trust me. You’ll actually feel good about this country.

Musing 5: Another completely random and dated thought, but I’m all about Tupac right now, and the last few minutes of Kendrick Lamar’s “Mortal Man” give me the chills. Take a listen.

Musing 6: If you’re a fan of fun awkwardness, the actor Adrian Grenier, who played Vince on the HBO series, “Entourage,” finally appeared on Victory the Podcast this week. The show, hosted by “Entourage” creator Doug Ellin and one of the former stars, Kevin Connolly, had been trying to convince Grenier to pop on for years. And he finally did. And, well, it’s entertaining and weird.

Musing 7: So during a recent interview, Donald Trump said that, as he was being arrainged, court employees in New York City were sobbing. And I thought, “God, that’s such bullshit. I wish some journalist would actually examine this.” Enter: Yahoo’s terrific Michael Isikoff, who wrote this.

Musing 8: The new Two Writers Slinging Yang stars Dr. Don Goldenberg, whose book, “Unravelling Long Covid,” bombed. Which makes for a great discussion about publishing highs and lows.

Quote of the week …

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

— “Warning” by Jenny Joseph