The firing of Akram Boutros as MetroHealth CEO Monday night is a case that offers insight into the role of a newspaper/website editor, and offering insights into our newsroom is why I write this column each week.
I’ve led our newsroom for going on 10 years, after spending the previous 10 years in a series of editing roles. Before that, I was a reporter for 20 years, including six in Cleveland. What that means is I’ve spent four decades schmoozing with people. A key part of a journalist’s job is talking to sources. We can’t tap into what’s happening if we don’t have sources we talk to -- a lot.
I talk to people every day. Sometimes it’s a mayor. Sometimes it is people I’ve met through my daily texts about what the newsroom has in the works. Sometimes it is people who read this column. Just about everyone I speak with provides information and insights that inform our reporting.
Oddly, though, despite all of those conversations, an editor’s lot is a lonely one. We talk to a lot of people, but they are not friends. Sure, our conversations often start with the niceties, about how the children are doing, the fortunes of our sports teams or the weather -- the things you discuss with friends. But these are not friends. Chances are that our newsrooms will write about them at some point. Our responsibility is to our readers, meaning that when we write stories, we show no favor. It doesn’t matter how often I talk to someone if they become the subject of a news story. We cover it straight.
My best example of this is Cuyahoga County Prosecutor Mike O’Malley. Back in 1999, he was a new Cleveland City Councilman when I was the new City Hall reporter, and because of our shared newness, we started talking. If I was covering a committee meeting that entered doldrum territory, Mike would leave the table and come over to chat.
I kept talking with Mike when he joined the administration of Mayor Jane Campbell, the Parma Law Department and the prosecutor’s office of Bill Mason. I talk to him still. But we’re not what you would consider friends. I’m certain he’d be the first to tell you he gets no favor. Twice in the past year, he has been spitting mad about stories we published. We had several calls where he pointedly made his argument and I pointedly disagreed. To his credit, he has always taken my call, even when he was seething.
Akram is someone else I have talked with regularly. We hit it off as part of the Leadership Cleveland class of 2015 and have had countless discussions since. When I had the titles of editor and president from 2017 through 2019 at Advance Ohio, I served on several boards with him. He always impressed me with his laser-focused dedication to lifting people from poverty. I was not alone. He impressed people all over town. For 10 years, he has been a force for immeasurable good in this town.
To make sure we kept connecting in spite of busy schedules, about five years ago we put a monthly date on the calendar to catch up. At first it was in person for coffee. When the pandemic hit, it went to the phone. We discussed many topics, mainly having to do with civic issues – what ails the region and what it needs to prosper. I often learned about something newsworthy at MetroHealth, leading to a story, or background about a continuing news story that kept our newsroom on the right track.
Of course, we had the niceties. We talked about how our families were doing. A few years ago, I discussed a relative with a chronic health issue that was not being addressed, and Akram connected me with a specialist to help. It permanently changed the lot of my relative, and I’ll be forever grateful for Akram’s help.
None of that mattered when Akram made news, and me made news often. As a longtime Cleveland leader, he inevitably had newsworthy controversies. We covered them. Straight. He did not ask for – nor did he receive – any favor. He knew our newsroom would cover him accurately and fairly, which is all he wanted.
He now finds himself embroiled in the biggest controversy he’ll likely ever face, fired over allegations that he took $1.9 million in bonuses without approval. My phone blew up as the news spread, with calls from people who have long known and respected Akram. They were stunned. Most people I spoke with said they did not believe it. The said the man they know is not capable of that. Their hearts were broken that his decade as a celebrated Cleveland leader is ending so horribly.
I understand. I would not have thought that the Akram I’ve known for more than eight years is a thief. He forcefully denies the allegations. He says the MetroHealth board approved the bonus payments and is vilifying him because he blew the whistle on illegalities in the search for his successor.
Personally, I want to believe him. I hope this story ends with him exonerated despite how it appears now. But professionally, my role is to get to the truth, whatever it is. We don’t have all of the facts yet. We will get them. The truth will out.
I’ve laid all of this out to illustrate just how unusual an editor’s job is. I’ve spent dozens of hours meeting and talking with Akram. I’ve marveled at what he has done at MetroHealth. I’ve talked to countless people who adore him. Yet, none of that can matter when it comes to covering this story. I’ll sound cold saying this, but I am not Akram's friend. In my role, I can’t be. He’s one of the many people I talk with to keep abreast of what is going on in this town. My duty is to you. The newsroom I lead owes you its best effort to ferret out the facts and provide them to you fairly. And I promise, we will do that, wherever this story takes us.
Thanks for reading.
