• by Kendall Allen , April 12, 2010

If you happen to check in with me here on Mondays, you may recall a piece I wrote in January called "Regarding Magic." A lauded and beloved journalist named Steve Lovelady had just died. I had paused here to ponder a frequent Lovelady testimonial fervently espoused by his Knight-Ridder brood -- that he was "magic." It struck me then that our most seasoned, sharpened business selves would do well to heed that intangible, transcendent quality in others -- no matter what our line of work. On an otherwise level field, magic just might just be the difference for talent taking flight.

Well, this past weekend, the folk who lived what many consider the glory years of newspaper journalism -- the '70s and '80s at The Philadelphia Inquirer under executive editor Gene Roberts -- gathered in New York City to honor Lovelady. Along with my mom and dad, who also reported to Roberts during that era, I considered it a great privilege to attend the ceremony, held at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. This was coincidentally just one day before the 2010 Pulitzers were to be announced.

Lovelady and his team at the Inquirer were no strangers to Pulitzers. As managing editor, he'd worked closely with Donald L. Barlett and James B. Steele, the paper's legendary investigative team. The pair credit Lovelady with honing their two Pulitzer Prize-winning series on the inequities of the tax system, as well as pieces that won two National Magazine Awards when the three later worked together at Time. The number of Pulitzers many believe Lovelady to have had a hand in is something like twelve. That is a history this extended crew, a journalism family of sorts, certainly holds dear.

As I emerged from the 116th Street subway,  I overheard Donald Drake, an esteemed former medical editor for the Inquirer, remark, "It seems we must gather for death and Pulitzers." This implied a certain shared vigilance.

This brings us to what was for me the prevailing thought of the day, mentioned a few times but whose theme pervaded its entirety: the journalistic compass.

As Barlett & Steele, Roberts and others honored Lovelady, they spoke again of his magic, his art, and his composure in the face of complexity by which others would have been hobbled. But, in the end, it always seemed about his quiet attention to the journalistic compass, which was his steady guide. I found it reassuring that this singular value was identifiable and understood by everyone in the room. They did not blink under its reference.

This brings us to today. One of my own operating beliefs has always been that the only thing you really have is your own integrity. Integrity is something you keep and feed through all business ventures, questionable situations, and collaborations. We might note that in today's fragmented media environment -- populated with a widening mix of vehicles, institutions and interests -- what we never hear articulated is a universal ethical value. What is the one tenet we all hold dear? Or, has that singularity ceased to be important?

We may point to our own credentials or demonstrations of integrity. But guess what? In the end, it's all counted out by others. Just as you don't get to announce your own clever nickname to the world, you don't get to decide how good you were. The best you can do is decide what you are going to be -- and go be it. Live your compass, as it were .