TIJUANA Press Mixes ‘Front Page,’ and Pravda

The man calling the offices of the daily newspaper Al Dia was direct.

“If you want money,” he said, “we’ll tell you where to find it. If you want to be martyrs, keep on doing what you’re doing.”

Reporter Jose Enrique Garcia, author of a number of provocative articles about alleged links between drug-trafficking and government officials, knew the comments could be backed up. The baby-faced, chain-smoking Garcia began carrying a pistol and found a new pastime: practicing his aim at a local target range.

In this case, no violence occurred. Instead, journalists say, opponents of the newspaper’s activist style pressured the owner to sell last May to a local industrialist less inclined to such combative reporting. Garcia and many colleagues jumped to El Heraldo, a feisty afternoon daily.

Welcome to the helter-skelter, sometimes dangerous, generally exasperating and often exhilarating world of journalism as practiced in Mexico’s most populous border city. It is a singular mixture of “The Front Page” and Pravda, of journalistic bravado in the face of danger, of personal vendettas and political bouquets masquerading as news stories.

To a large extent, the style of news coverage evident in the dozen or so local publications circulating here reflects the state of the craft throughout Mexico. But Tijuana’s location on the border, with its dynamic economy and heterogenous population, has resulted in a few novel twists. For instance, one weekly is printed in the United States, partially for protection, and several journalists supplement their meager incomes by contributing to nearby U.S. publications.

Last month, international attention was focused on the normally insular world of print journalism here when shotgun-wielding assailants killed a well-known columnist and satirist, Hector (Gato) Felix Miranda--comparable in local fame to New York’s Jimmy Breslin--as he drove his Ford sedan to work.

Police have arrested the suspected triggerman--a guard at Caliente Race Track who is also a former state policeman--and announced they are seeking an accomplice, the track’s ex-security chief, himself reportedly a former federal and local police officer in Mexico City.

The slaying--universally condemned by news organizations and officials alike--was an extraordinary event, and its repercussions continue to reverberate here. Many believe the named suspects are taking the fall for political or economic power brokers who actually ordered the killing in response to items in Felix’s biting column. Police have denied

any kind of cover-up.

Felix, co-editor and co-founder of the weekly Zeta, was the first journalist murdered in more than 25 years in Baja California. Elsewhere in Mexico, such acts are more common: In the past 16 years, more than two dozen newsmen have been murdered. The killers are rarely found, Mexican journalists say.

While the murder of a journalist is an extreme case, journalists say that other means of control--threats, economic pressure and buyouts of newspapers by powerful interests--are commonplace. Libel and slander laws, while on the books, are used less frequently than in the United States, they say.

Because of political and economic pressure, turnover among newspaper owners is rapid here. Discerning readers must be ever alert: Today’s muckraking publication may be tomorrow’s apologist.

Ownership Is Critical

Ownership is critical, as demonstrated by Al Dia’s evolution from hard-hitting exposes to pro-government pronouncements. A former governor of Baja California is part owner of two dailies here; the current governor is said to exercise strong influence at several others.

As in the United States, most journalists here say they strive for objectivity. But the long arm of Mexico’s long-dominant ruling party often extends to the press. Indirect government control, along with extensive self-censorship and more subtle forms of official pressure, have long been realities for newspapers. However, observers say that varying points of view and independent journalism are much more common in Mexico now than 20 years ago.

“There is freedom of the press in Mexico,” said J. Jesus Blancornelas, editor and co-founder of the weekly Zeta, whose unrelenting exposes about corruption and government mismanagement have drawn praise and condemnation alike. “But you have to be willing to take the risk.”

‘Vicious Thieves’ and ‘Rats’

Blancornelas has shown he is willing. Felix had been Blancornelas’ colleague for many years. The two co-founded and co-edited Zeta. Many fear for Blancornelas’ life.

Despite the improvements in Mexican journalism, practices persist in newspapers in Tijuana and elsewhere in Mexico that seem jarring by U.S. standards. While screaming headlines are common in both countries, particularly in afternoon dailies, newspapers battling in the highly competitive Mexican market routinely refer to crime suspects as “vicious thieves” and “rats” before they have even been publicly charged.

After Felix’s alleged killers were named, El Heraldo ran a full-page spread juxtaposing photographs of the murder scene with photos of Jorge Hank Rhon, the president of Caliente Race Track. Hank, a frequent target of Felix, has denied any part in the slaying.

$40 to $70 a Week

Other customs here are also frowned upon in U.S. journalism, although many stem from economic reality. While many U.S. journalists consider themselves underpaid, the situation is much more drastic for reporters here, who typically earn $40 to $70 a week--and write as many as eight articles a day. College degrees are unusual among reporters.

To supplement their meager income, Mexican reporters regularly sell advertising on the side, a practice U.S. journalists say can compromise news coverage. For journalists here, though, the work is often an economic necessity.

“It’s difficult to live on reporters’ salaries,” said Rogelio Lavenant, editor of the afternoon daily El Heraldo, Tijuana’s oldest, with a claimed circulation of about 8,000. “Selling advertising doesn’t affect coverage.”

Bribes Widespread?

Lavenant and other editors do see a problem with another practice: the taking of bribes by journalists. Although few will acknowledge taking payoffs from politicians and others, journalists say the practice is widespread. Miguel Cervantes Sahagun, a reporter for Zeta, recalls being offered a beachside lot in exchange “for future considerations.”

“Everyone knows this is going on,” said Cervantes, 28, who supplements his income by free-lancing for other publications, including The Times.

Editors say they attempt to lessen the temptation by raising salaries and offering other incentives to workers. At El Mexicano, for instance, Baja California’s dominant daily, reporters can get housing, insurance and other benefits through the newspaper union.

‘Borrowing’ Cars

Dora Elena Cortes, managing editor of El Heraldo, recalled another kind of corruption involving local journalists: Some were “borrowing” cars from the state judicial police--cars that had been stolen in the United States and confiscated by police in Mexico. She denounced the practice at a local journalists meeting, causing much embarrassment.

“I think it’s happening a lot less now,” Cortes said during an interview at El Heraldo, which is run out of a cramped, smoke-filled office near downtown that is furnished with heavy typewriters and metal desks that look as though they had been salvaged from the set of “Kojak.”

Cortes, perhaps the most well-known and respected female journalist here, with 13 years of experience, is a veteran of the Baja press wars.

Critical of Governor

During her tenure at the daily Novedades de Baja California, Cortes wrote a series of articles in 1985 critical of Baja Gov. Xicotencatl Leyva Mortera. Soon afterward, she said, columns attacking her began appearing in El Mexicano, the dominant daily, which has strong links to the government.

Among other things, the articles charged that Cortes was attempting to get a job at the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency. (Swipes at Uncle Sam, Los Yanquis and Los Imperialistas are de riguer in many Mexican newspapers; journalists here point to what they characterize as frequent Mexico-bashing in the U.S. press.) Cortes said she later learned that the articles were commissioned by the state government.

“They were trying to discredit me,” she said.

State officials deny involvement in any such campaign. “The articles were written by a journalist completely on his own,” said Miguel Angel Torres, chief spokesman for Leyva.

Dominant El Mexicano

Cortes did what many here do: She took her story to Zeta, the independent weekly.

Inevitably, discussions about journalistic ethics turn to the dominant role of El Mexicano, which has a claimed daily circulation of 80,000 throughout Baja. The newspaper features a colorful, USA Today-style format and, critics say, a seemingly unshakable belief in the wisdom and benevolence of Mexican officials.

“We don’t like to be too negative or too positive,” said Enrique Sanchez Diaz, managing editor of El Mexicano, as he sat in his small, glass-walled office, where photographs of the governor, president and presidential candidate were displayed prominently. “We try to maintain an equilibrium.”

Opposition Dwarfed

El Mexicano, fully computerized and situated in a spacious office on the city’s outskirts, is owned by the Confederation of Mexican Workers, a large national union that is one of the principal pillars of Mexico’s long-dominant ruling party. Coincidence or not, coverage of official candidates dwarfs articles about opposition candidates.

Each edition of El Mexicano seems to give prominent play to some new government initiative, imparting the impression of an onslaught of progress. Recently, for instance, El Mexicano gave front-page play to official efforts to improve the border economy, bolster the beleaguered fishing industry, turn land over to urban squatters and improve loan programs for farmers.

“Some people have told me they wonder what planet El Mexicano is writing about,” said Lavenant, editor of the rival El Heraldo.

Objectivity Defended

El Mexicano editors defend the newspaper’s independence and objectivity.

“We are not oficialistas ,” said Sanchez, the managing editor, using an epithet frequently applied to newsmen who work as government apologists.

Certainly, no one has placed the oficialista sobriquet on Zeta, the muckraking weekly run by Blancornelas and, until his death, Felix.

“Blancornelas has no professional ethics,” charged Torres, the governor’s spokesman and a former reporter for El Mexicano.

Thrives on Criticism

Blancornelas, local incarnation of a hard-hitting newspaper tradition that came of age in Mexico in the 1970s, seems to thrive on the criticism. Zeta features a feisty writing style and wide-ranging exposes that reveal everything from drug-trafficking links in government to corruption among the local police, from pollution in Ensenada’s bay to alleged murders by the Mexican military--usually relying on unnamed sources.

Blancornelas has persevered despite what he characterizes as extensive official efforts to quiet his voice. Twice, he says, he has been forced out of newspapers here--the dailies ABC and La Voz de La Frontera--when gubernatorial allies purchased publications that he had turned into harsh critics of corruption. (Officials deny any connection with his much-publicized departures.)

Undaunted, Blancornelas and Felix co-founded Zeta in 1980; its release each Friday is a much-awaited punctuation to the workweek. The newspaper’s estimated 70,000 copies are printed in San Diego, a fact that provides a measure of insulation from official seizure of presses and denial of newsprint.

Bullet Holes Outside

Bullet holes on the outside walls of Zeta’s office attest to an early-morning machine-gun attack last year by unknown assailants. No one was hurt.

Blancornelas, a bearded, slightly built and deeply religious Roman Catholic who looks more like a New Age intellectual than a muckraking editor, refuses to back off from his attacks on government. If Felix’s death was meant as a warning, Blancornelas isn’t taking the hint.

“If I was scared, I would have left here a long time ago,” said the bespectacled Blancornelas, a 51-year-old father of three whose precautions include calling his wife shortly before he leaves for home each day. “If I’m not home in the time it takes me,” he explained in his high-pitched voice, “she knows something is wrong.”

Outpouring of Support

Two days after Felix’s death, Zeta published a stinging edition with a black-bordered front page announcing simply: “The Suspects.” Those named inside include Gov. Leyva; Tijuana Mayor Federico Valdes Martinez, a longtime associate of the governor whom Felix derided as a drunk; and Hank, the eccentric race track owner whose father is considered one of the most powerful men in Mexico.

“Complete speculation,” said Torres, the governor’s spokesman.

Felix’s death has prompted an outpouring of popular support and indignation not seen here in many years. Thousands turned out for his wake and farewell.

In the midst of a heated presidential campaign, the political fallout has rained down hot and heavy on Leyva, whose much-discussed drinking habits were a leitmotif of Felix’s barbed columns--as were the governor’s brother’s purported links to drug traffickers. Protesters have exhorted “Xico,” as the governor is widely known here, to press the investigation--or to resign.

“Xico,” banners and posters at the farewell march asked, “Who killed Gato Felix?”