PERSPECTIVE ON THE PRESS : Salaciousness, the New Standard : Are allegations of adultery more newsworthy than education, crime or fiscal policy?

Nancy Reagan, Ted Kennedy, Chuck Robb--all have one (and probably only one) thing in common: having their personal lives scrutinized in front-page and prime-time media reports in the past two weeks. The coverage has focused on personal behavior, especially sexual behavior, and allegations concerning the same made by anonymous “sources” or characters of questionable repute. And none of the allegations about sexual conduct had anything to do with the performance or failure of performance of public duties in public office.

We have come a long way from the days of John F. Kennedy, when stories of sexual behavior or misbehavior by politicians were discussed among reporters but never disclosed to their readers or viewers, even if they impinged directly on the public performance of the politicians. But we have come too far.

Ever since the Gary Hart expose, stories about politicians’ (and now their spouses’) sex lives have become an increasingly dominant news peg for both electronic and print media outlets. Along with the three latest luminaries, the roster includes former Ohio Gov. Richard Celeste, former Rep. Donald (Buz) Lukens (also of Ohio), Massachusetts’ Rep. Barney Frank and the late John Tower of Texas, among many others. Many of the stories were real and legitimate news reports, about public officials being arrested for their alleged misdeeds, or about their public performance being called into question or directly involved. But other stories made no pretense of tying private behavior to the public job; allegations of Celeste’s extramarital affairs were reported as he was leaving office, no longer a candidate for anything.

Two additional disturbing factors have developed in recent times. Increasingly, stories about politicians’ sexual conduct are front-page news, no matter how serious the charge or how it is related to the public job.

Every newspaper reporter and editor knows how much emphasis and effort goes into defining the front page, and deciding the leads. Placement of news is a powerful signal to readers as to what is truly important and what is less significant. The signal these days is that allegations of adultery by public figures, whether they are elected or not, whether they are formal leaders or not, whether there is any direct relevance to their jobs, is more important than education, crime or fiscal policy.

Even more troubling, old standards banning publication of rumors unless and until they can be independently confirmed have been replaced by a new standard reaction: We just heard a hint about an innuendo about a rumor--go with it above the fold, and forget the caveats. Much of what was reported about John Tower fit that new standard, as did many of the early stories about the Kitty Kelley book and Nancy Reagan.

I cannot see any case, other than titillation value, for publishing allegations on the front page of a major metropolitan newspaper about Ted Kennedy’s state of dress in Palm Beach, or about Nancy Reagan’s penchant for sex on long car trips decades ago, or whether Chuck Robb had more than a massage in a hotel room he visited with a beauty queen in 1984. Watching a sanctimonious reporter ask the former Miss Virginia in a prime-time NBC broadcast whether the former Virginia governor had committed adultery tells me that by television news standards these days, Geraldo Rivera is the equal of Edward R. Murrow.

Salaciousness sells, to be sure; this is an axiom the National Inquirer and its competitors learned many years ago. But surely, in today’s journalism there is some room for honest and prudent standards about what is true and verifiable, what is newsworthy, what is front-page material and what is simply salacious.

NBC News’ “Expose,” the New York Times’ front page recounting of Nancy Reagan’s alleged peccadilloes and front-page Chuck Robb stories in the Washington Post suggest, sadly, that salaciousness is increasingly becoming the mainstream standard.