A columnist walks into another columnist's newsletter…

Boston Globe

3 days ago

Marcela:
Before you became an opinion columnist, you spent time at the Globe covering music, film, and television. What is the best celebrity story you have from that time?
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Renée:
Not even close — interviewing Prince. From the time I became a journalist, he was at the top of my interview wish list. The only problem was Prince didn't do interviews. But in 2004, his publicist suddenly called and asked if I could be in Houston the next day to interview Prince before the latest stop on his 'Musicology' tour. I would have said yes even if the location had been on the dark side of the moon. When I arrived at the arena, I was brought to a backstage area where I expected a publicist to escort me to him. Instead, it was Prince himself, smiling with his arm extended for a handshake. I thought I'd be lucky to get a half hour, but we talked for 90 minutes in his dressing room, just the two of us. He even skipped a soundcheck so we could continue our conversation. (The only condition was that I couldn't tape record the interview.) Overall, it was what a former colleague used to call 'a career-affirming day.' Prince was funny and forthcoming. He asked me questions about myself. He would play his guitar or keyboard (a private concert!) to emphasize a musical point or story, and he smelled better than any human being I've ever met. I'll never forget it.
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Q. What is your biggest journalistic regret?
A.
As a young Globe metro reporter, I was sent to do a story about a woman who was killed in her home by a stray bullet while eating Thanksgiving leftovers with her grandchildren. On a Friday night, I visited her family and spent hours listening to their stories. They could not have been kinder to me, a stranger intruding in their time of grief. As I was leaving their home, I asked for a photograph that I could use with the story and they graciously gave one to me. I thanked them and they hugged me. But when I got in my car, I literally tossed the photo in the back seat, cranked up the radio, and drove back to the office thinking only about the page one Sunday banger I was going to write. In that moment I saw a big story — not a beloved woman tragically taken from her family. I hated how that made me feel. Journalism often requires compassion, but never callousness. Two weeks later, I left the metro desk and became a features writer.
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Q. Complete this sentence: 'The worst person in Boston is ______.'
A.
This is a tough one. I've lived in Boston most of my adult life and I've found many people to be the worst. But since I am loath to name names (although you probably already know who you are), I will go with a particular type of 'worst' person — anyone who rides public transportation while blasting at full volume some content from their tinny phone speaker instead of using headphones or earbuds. Riding the T can be challenging enough without being trapped in a metal box while being force-fed 'The Joe Rogan Experience.'
Q. What's the worst lie someone told you to your face?
A.
Marcela calls me a 'catastrophizer,' a fancy word for someone who worries too much. I do not worry too much; I worry just as much as any situation requires. But what I've learned during my many decades of brow-furrowing and hand-wringing — especially in these past six months — is that the road to hell is paved by people who insist that you're worrying too much. Look around you: We should be worrying more. So anyone who still has the audacity to tell me everything will be fine or work out is straight-up lying to my face. And that's the worst.
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Q. If you were participating in the Revere sand sculpture contest, what would your sculpture depict?
A.
Q. If you weren't a journalist, what would you be and why?
A.
My obvious answer would be a Lego master builder despite the fact that I lack the skill set required for such an endeavor. (But I'm working on it.) In the meantime, I think I'd be a film curator. (Time to put those college film classes to work.) My parents were both big film buffs and often took me to age-inappropriate films like 'The Godfather' and 'Cabaret' when I was 9. That had a huge impact on me and my love of film. I'm also a former movie critic, so I'm always curating film festivals in my mind by eras, subject matter, country, or performers, and boring my partner to tears geeking out about the minutiae of a favorite scene.
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Q. A runaway trolley is hurdling down a track. If you do nothing, it will hit a basket of puppies. You could flip a switch, though, and it will instead hit an endangered right whale. What's the moral thing to do?
A.
What's an endangered right whale doing on the tracks? Why would someone leave a basket of puppies to die? I morally reject this question. What's wrong with you, Alan?
This is an excerpt from
, a Globe Opinion newsletter from columnist Renée Graham.
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Renée Graham is a Globe columnist. She can be reached at