Inside journalism circles there is much weeping, wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth over the National Enquirer’s Pulitzer Prize nomination for an exposé of John Edward’s loose zipper. As someone who built an investigative reporter career based on journalism prizes, I say, “Who gives a flying…whatever?”

I evolved over 30 years of muckraking from reporter to ”investigative” reporter to “award winning” investigative reporter to “Peabody” award winning investigative reporter  to “four-time” Peabody award winning investigative reporter to ”retired” four time Peabody award winning investigative reporter. At various junctures, all the above phrases were used in job-seeking letters and various other capacities—including egotistical boasts about my prowess as a journalist.

But the fact of the matter is I didn’t deserve all (emphasis on all) the accolades, which is easy to say since I no longer send résumés to prospective employers. Indeed, these days my boasting is confined to Facebook, mass e-mails, my website, this blog, book peddling in radio and TV interviews, during personal appearances and in conversations with everyone in earshot. Why? Because the prizes give me a sense of legitimacy.

And legitimacy is what the National Enquirer seeks. That ain’t going to happen, whether it receives the Pulitzer or not. The weekly tabloid will continue to be a supermarket curiosity that features blazing headlines to  titillate shoppers standing in line at check-out stands. Who among us has not been tempted to buy the Enquirer after seeing a particularly provocative headline? I’m reasonably certain I have bought an issue, though I don’t know when and why. Maybe it was after I received a $50.00 check from the Enquirer.

 An Enquirer reporter had contacted me about some aspect of the Jimmy Swaggart sex scandals. My recollection is that I was not much help. Surprisingly, though, a check arrived a few days later and I faced the dilemma of taking money from a trashy tabloid. I considered my options for at least a full minute before racing to the bank to cash the windfall.

Anyway, regardless of what pointy-head journalism professors and self-righteous reporters say, I believe the Enquirer deserves a Pulitizer. The damning pictures and accompanying stories about John Edwards knocking up a woman who worked for his Presidential campaign significant. It is not comparable to the Washington Post’s Watergate reporting by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward. Still,  the Enquirer’s enterprise exposed the hypocrisy of a leading candidate and even the possible misuse of campaign funds.

In my mind, that fits the definition of investigative reporting, although a better definition would be ”investigative skulking.” The reporters nailed down the story by staking out the offices of obstetricians and a hotel lobby where Edwards was photographed before and after a visit with his paramour.

In my early days as an “investigative reporter, skulking was a television speciality. The first two Peabody medallions I collected were for secretly collecting video in Miami while concealed in a “snoop van.”  My initial spying adventure caught south Florida’s top state prosecutor and a prominent judge meeting on a weekly basis with bookies, who had close ties to notorious mobster Meyer Lansky. My reporting consisted of learning about the meetings from law enforcement sources, then sitting in the back of the van in a shopping center parking lot for several Saturdays as a photographer filmed the encounters. I expended a little bit more effort in documenting the story by tracking the gamblers back to meetings with Lansky.

By primitive television investigative reporting standards, my reporting and the video passed for high art. So much so that TV Guide did a lengthy article praising me and reporters at other Miami stations for our innovative skulking.  

My second Peabody was also a  result of spying—this time on so-called mafia racketeers. My enterprise consisted of adding pictures to law enforcement intelligence reports that were leaked to me. Again, I spent considerable time in the back of a van, as well as going out on my own with a hand-held camera to catch the bad guys on film. In retrospect, neither of my early “investigative” stories would warrant consideration for major journalism prizes today. Despite these disparaging comments about two of my Peabody awards, both remain displayed on the wall of my office. I never considered returning them to sender.

More deserving were my third and fourth Peabody awards—one for an investigative documentary about TV preacher Jimmy Swaggart’s financial dealings and his spiritual manipulation of followers, the other a documentary exposing the corrupt dealings between Louisiana’s Insurance Commissioner and a company he was supposed to regulate. The regulator and executives of the insurance company all went to prison.

These kind of results are an important consideration in awarding journalism prizes. There is no doubt that the National Enquirer  investigation of John Edwards got results, even though the mainstream media was slow to acknowledge the truth of the stories. Now that we know the truth, I hope the Pulitizer panel will give the tabloid its just reward.

In today’s journalism environment, the threshhold of legitimacy has sunk so low that anything deserves award consideration if it goes beyond the speculation of idiot pundits and the opinions expressed by airhead anchors and correspondents. 

I have deliberately omitted the “F” word because bad journalism applies to every television network.