It is clear from documents recently released by the Madison school district that spokesperson Tim LeMonds, now on leave, had a problem with NBC15 reporter Elizabeth Wadas. In fact, he seemed determined to keep her from doing her job. In an extraordinary scene caught on camera, LeMonds can be seen physically blocking Wadas from approaching Superintendent Carlton Jenkins at the State of the District event on Jan. 31. LeMonds said that Jenkins was speaking to the public. Wadas insisted she was a member of the public, too.
What was unusual in this encounter between a public information officer and a reporter is that LeMonds got physical in blocking access. Much more commonly, PIOs employed by government agencies restrict access to sources and information in much more passive ways — by ignoring emails, refusing to allow reporters to speak directly to frontline workers, requiring that reporters submit written questions and sitting on requested documents.
You can get a glimpse into how LeMonds views his role as a PIO from a recording attached to a 14-page complaint against him by current and former staffers. In the recording, he talks about countering the “negativity” directed at the school district and expresses frustration that reporters have not pursued stories he has suggested to them. “We got to a point where we had really good stories, we would pitch it to every reporter in town, and they were making choices not to report,” he said in the recording. “And in a conversation with Dr. Jenkins, I’m like ‘screw it, we’re going to hire our own reporter.’”
Clearly LeMonds feels one of his charges is to paint his boss and workplace in a good light. But there is more to the job. As spelled out on the district’s own website, the communications department is supposed to serve “students, parents, the community and the media by delivering clear, timely and accurate information.” On that score, LeMonds’ performance as the leader of the communications department has been abysmal.
The Wisconsin Freedom of Information Council, an organization that promotes openness in government, awarded the school district a “No Friend of Openness (Nopee)” honor in March with this description: “It’s rare for a public institution that depends on taxpayer support to be as awful as this one when it comes to public records and accountability. The district, through spokesperson Tim LeMonds, has become notorious for outrageous delays and excuses, prompting multiple lawsuits alleging violations of the records law.”
That tradition seems to be continuing, even without LeMonds at the helm. It’s been nearly three weeks since news broke that LeMonds has been placed on leave and I’m still waiting for a response to one simple question: Is LeMonds on paid or unpaid leave? That should not be a hard one to answer.
Public information officers have proliferated in recent years, in Wisconsin and around the country. Former Isthmus news editor Bill Lueders wrote about the trend back in 2006, relaying how a state worker whom he had interviewed before referred him to a public information officer on a subsequent call.
“It’s happening more and more,” he wrote. “Frontline employees, especially at the state level, are fobbing media contacts onto public-relations experts, who generally don’t know as much as the original sources.”
I recall a similar progression. In the early 1990s, when I was covering the state’s dismantling of Wisconsin’s welfare system, much of my on-the-record material came from agency staffers who were eager to share their expertise in the area because they were concerned about the changes. That would never happen today.
“Over the last 25 years or so there has been a relatively rapid trend toward prohibiting staff members from communicating to journalists without reporting to some authority, often public information officers,” the Society of Professional Journalists says on a web page devoted to the issue. “The restrictions have become, in great part, a cultural norm in the United States. They also have become an effective form of censorship by which powerful entities keep the public ignorant about what impacts them.”
Carolyn Carlson, now a retired journalism professor from Kennesaw State University, is one of the few researchers who has tried to quantify the problem. Between 2012 and 2016 she conducted seven surveys of reporters — police, science, education, local and federal— as well as public information officers.
Carlson, a former journalist and past president of the Society of Professional Journalists, embarked on her research amid growing complaints from reporters that public information officers were increasingly blocking access to sources who had the expertise they were seeking.
In a 2014 survey by Carlson of 445 reporters who cover local and state government, police and courts, and do general assignment work, three-fourths agreed with this statement: “The public is not getting all the information it needs because of barriers agencies are imposing on journalists’ reporting practices.” In another survey the same year, 76% of 190 Education Writers Association members agreed with the same statement. Also 60 percent of the education writers agreed that the controls imposed on the reporting process constituted “a form of government censorship.”
On the flip side, Carlson also surveyed public information officers. In 2013 63% of 154 PIOs questioned agreed that “controlling media coverage of the agency is a very important part of protecting the agency’s reputation,” and 67% felt “justified in refusing to allow reporters to conduct an interview” if they felt it could “compromise agency security or reveal damaging information.”
Also, 39% of respondents agreed there are specific reporters they will not allow their staff to talk to due to their past reporting.
Public information officers can be helpful to reporters (providing documents, lining up relevant sources, and clarifying legislation are just a few things that come to mind) and residents (distributing notices about road closures, plowing, vaccines, etc.). But there is an inherent tension between reporters and public information officers.
“As a journalist you want to provide information to the public that you’ve vetted and you want to give them objective information,” says Carlson. “That is not your priority as a PR person. Your priority is to present your client in the best possible light. That is a very diametrically opposed goal because it inherently means that you’re not telling the public anything that puts your client in a bad light. You’re not necessarily concealing information; you’re omitting information.”
I wanted to get a rough idea of how many PIOs are currently employed by the city of Madison and Dane County. The city sent a chart listing nine positions, representing such departments as police, parks, planning and engineering. The salaries range from about $74,000 to just under $92,000. One position is currently vacant.
The response from Dane County was less straightforward. Dan Lowndes, risk manager for the county, explained in a cover letter that the county, in general, “does not centralize the functions performed by a public information officer. Rather, each county department decides on their own how to respond to media requests.”
Ariana Vruwink’s title, for instance, is assistant to the county executive. But she nevertheless performs many PIO functions. Lowndes emailed nine job classifications for county staff who perform PIO duties as part of their jobs, including public health communications coordinator and strategic engagement officer for the land and water resources department. The salaries range from about $59,000 to $133,500.
I didn’t try to clarify how many public information officers work for the school district. I figured I would not hear back anyway.
