THIS JUST-IN: Justin Fenton on Interviewing, Journalism, and the Media

INTERVIEW WITH A JOURNALIST

First of all, you can listen to my iPhone recording of my interview with Justin Fenton here.

Justin Fenton is being chased down a Baltimore city street by a man holding a hammer, who’s shouting that he’s a “motherf---er” and is demanding his wallet and cell phone. No, this isn’t where I interviewed him. But it’s a story he told my JOUR100 class last Monday that received many gasps and captivated our interest. I interviewed him after class.

Fenton has worked as the Baltimore Sun’s crime reporter since 2005, after graduating from this university’s journalism program and working the state government beat for The Diamondback. He calls his career a “crazy job.” Since August 2008, he says, over 500 people have been killed in the city.

I chose Justin mainly because he came in to speak to my JOUR150 class in the summer of 2009, when I was down here for the Young Scholars Program. He happened to be coming in to class again, so it was quite serendipitous. I knew Justin used interviews on a daily basis as a crime reporter—he cultivates sources within the city police, talks to people soon after their family members have died, and generally uses the interview as a powerful journalistic tool.

Generally, Justin and I talked about specific interviewing techniques that he’s cultivated in his time as a professional journalist. We started by talking about choosing interviewees, which he says you should do by “surround[ing] the issue” of your story; as with many other questions, he said that it depended on the story. He doesn’t “have that mechanism” of feeling too intrusive into someone’s life, but tries to “explain to them why it’s important” to obtain the details of a crime scene. Similarly, he says he bases his comfort level with his interviewees on “feel,” an instinctual strength that he’s developed over the years.

We then talked about contacting sources; he says that many people now prefer text messages, but “the phone is definitely the best way to go.” When asked about interviews starting to falter, he said that he must think on his feet, since “you gotta make it count. And that means doing things that are uncomfortable.” Interestingly, he said that “the conversation you have with them is much more important” than filling a quota for quotes. Sources’ overall views, he says, can enrich your understanding of the topic. “What you’re really looking for are the quotes that work the best,” Justin said.

Later, we discussed the role of new social media, which he said is “not journalism,” but a mode of communication; he does think that multimedia is a big thing, though. My most important question was about crossing journalistic disciplines, which he said is integral. He launched into a laundry list of Baltimore’s egregious crimes, and how he got interviews and records to prove and solve cases.

Justin is an expert communicator. Through his communication behaviors, he projected confidence. Since our interview was informal, he used numerous inarticulates, such as “um” and “you know.” His kinesics worked in a complementing relationship with his verbal communication. His fascics showed comfort, he maintained good eye contact, and used gestics to emphasize his points artfully. In proxemic terms, we sat a seat away from each other in the lecture hall, allowing us to talk easily and naturally. Chronemic-wise, our interview lasted as long as he says they should—10-20 minutes. Paravocalically, Justin spoke with a casual tone. His frequent anecdotes amused and educated me.

I learned from Justin, but still used some of his techniques throughout our interview. I only regret using too many inarticulates. I worked on maintaining eye contact while taking notes and adjusting my iPhone. I used comprehension listening and gave him my undivided attention, using a mix of probe and open questions. I feel that we built a rapport and talked naturally. My interview with Fenton didn’t only make this project a success. It reaffirmed my choice to spend the rest of my life in his shoes.