A couple of weeks ago, a plane landed on the Hudson River, just a stone’s throw from where I was sitting at Space 38|39. I did not learn about it from CNN or MSNBC. I found out about the “Miracle on the Hudson” from Facebook, just minutes after it happened. My friend Peter’s status read, “Did a plane really just land on the Hudson?” and I immediately went to work trying to find out what he was talking about.

I went to all of the news sites I trust – CNN.com, NY1.com, MSNBC.com, and even NPR.org – to get the story, but none of them had anything about a plane landing on the Hudson. Finally, about an hour later, there it was, on all of these sites – complete with live video streams. But the scoop was on Facebook long before it was on any of these professional news sites. I learned about the Miracle on the Hudson from a minister sitting in his living room in Corona, NY.

Interestingly, just two days prior to this extraordinary event, I attended a dinner at the Harvard Club sponsored by the Committee of Concerned Journalists. The evening was centered on a panel discussion moderated by journalist and living legend Tom Brokaw on “lessons from an historic campaign.” The august panel included Nina Totenberg (NPR), Dan Balz (The Washington Post), Dean Baquest (The New York Times), and several others who have been covering the world’s news for decades, and one of the main points that kept coming up again and again throughout the evening was the changing face of journalism. Several times, the question was posed or intimated, does journalism, as we’ve known it since pre-Facebook days, still matter?

I had decided to attend this event at the last minute; I’ve been a member of the CCJ for several years, but rarely do I get to actually go to their functions, and I wasn’t even sure whether I belonged at this event. After all, I am not a real journalist; in fact, I like to say I’m an “accidental journalist.” Like a surprise pregnancy, my journalism career “just sorta happened,” but when I saw my first byline, a tiny little heartbeat on the ultrasound of a budding career, I was in love. Of course, I’m generally covering faith and artsy cultural things, like noteworthy leaders in the Christian community or photography exhibition openings. Politics is not my bag, and I wrote very little about November’s historic election (a few blog posts notwithstanding).

Still, the invitation came, and I felt curious. So I went. And I discovered upon entering the very crowded cocktail hour that I had been correct: I did not belong there. I perused the framed and autographed political cartoons up for auction (to benefit the CCJ) and had one very poignant conversation with a man in a suit and tie that went something like this:

(Me) “Where’d you manage to score that glass of wine?”
(Him) “Right over there.”
(Me) “Thanks.”

I sat down and checked my email about thirty-five times on my iPhone, trying to look like I was a very serious journalist on deadline (I was, in fact, typing on my friend Frank’s wall). The truth was, I did have a hard deadline, but my research was over and it was time to actually be sitting at my laptop writing, not scanning through my inbox on my iPhone at an event I really should not have been attending.

When they finally dimmed the lights – our cue to move into the banquet hall – I was so relieved; this was why I had come. My table was filled with fascinating people with long legacies in politics and journalism, and I enjoyed hearing them dish the inside scoop on the Madoff scam, foreign relations, and of course the election. A few times I got to give some input and I was delighted (and surprised) by how much I actually knew about these topics. (Though I admit, there were a few times where I pulled the old, “well, you know when he… yeah…” Nodding, wide-eyed, eyebrows raised, waiting for my counterpart to fill in the blanks and then, when he did, followed up with, “…exactly…”

Works every time.

The meal was delicious (mmmm, crab cakes), and as I was sipping my second cup of decaf, the lights once again dimmed in the banquet hall, and the panel discussion began. Tom Brokaw did a great job as moderator (I took notes, since moderating is one of my roles at IAM). The panelists went in several different directions, even, at times, disagreeing with him (like the time Tom Brokaw made the statement that “all reporting is investigative journalism to some extent” and then Dean Baquet took the microphone and said, “I totally disagree.” That was fun.)

Throughout the evening, I sensed a simmering discomfort beneath the surface of much of the conversation I heard. Those whose careers have been built on the tried and true elements of journalism are now frightfully aware that their skills may be irrelevant if they’re not first on the scene. It is getting harder and harder to be the first to report the news, because whichever Tom, Dick or Harry is closest by when news happens is going to scoop even the most ardent first-responders in the media with his cell phone images and Tweets.

The face of journalism is not just changing; it has changed. And from what I could see that night at the Harvard Club, the pros are aware that there is no more “business as usual.” In the old days, reporters showed up at newsworthy events or press conferences with a notebook and pencil. Now we have digital voice recorders, video cameras, and cell phones. We can research stories in seconds, thanks to Google and online archives. We can post our stories within seconds of the event happening, assuming we have the freedom from our editors to do so.

Of course, while we’re running spell check, Joe Blogspot is liveblogging in the corner, and by the time Professional Reporter has run his piece online, Joe has already blown their punch line on his personal post.

But with all this said, it is still vital for journalists to be there, fleshing out stories, getting the bigger picture, researching backgrounds, even if they’re not breaking the news. Even though I had already moved on to other news by the time all of the “Miracle on the Hudson” stories emerged in mainstream press, it was good to get some more specifics about the captain of the plane and the survivors on NPR’s Morning Report. As a frequent flier, it matters to me why the plane went down, and it will take good journalism to discover whether it was really a collision with an unfortunate flock of low-flying geese or something more sinister. If US Airways is letting planes with bum engines take off, I want to know about it. I am counting on journalists to let me know whether I can trust US Air; their reporting will influence my comfort level the next time the pilot tells the flight attendants to “prepare for takeoff.”

So back to the big question: is professional journalism obsolete?

Not by a long shot. The world still needs real journalists, but not necessarily to report the news first. People with iPhones just might start taking over that responsibility. But it will still fall to journalists to get the full story, and to report the meat of the matter. All I learned from Facebook was that a plane had landed on the Hudson. But an hour later, on a major news web site, I learned that all of the passengers had made it to safety, that they thought it was caused by birds flying into the engine, and that Capt. Sully was a highly respected pilot and, in general, salt of the earth type of guy. These are things the public wants to know.

At the Harvard Club, the general consensus was that the face of journalism is, indeed, changing, but the people who mattered – the big guns of the evening – did not seem scared in the least. In fact, they seemed totally at ease with the fact that their professional lives as they knew them were in flux. I think true journalists thrive on flux. Journalists are some of the most creative, innovative, resourceful people I know.

Gone are the days when the public would first hear the news from the six o’clock network news. Gone are the days of superstars anchoring the eleven o’clock p.m. hour. Instead, news is flowing 24/7, and with everything that is happening in the world, the world needs people to tell them about what is happening.

The whole story of what is happening.

And that is, and will always be, the responsibility of those who bear the title of “journalist,” a breed of professionals the world will always need.

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