Free . . . And His Lovely Wife by Connie Schultz Page B

Hackett’s own pollster said that Sherrod was ahead by an almost 2-to-1 margin. With those kinds of numbers, Hackett couldn’t possibly raise the money he needed to wage a primary race. And without Hackett, the Democratic field was clear for Sherrod. There would be no primary.
    Sherrod greeted Hackett’s news with relief.
    â€œWell,” he said, “at least Hackett’s behind us now.”
    He couldn’t have been more wrong.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    S TUART W ARNER CALLED ME EARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING.
    â€œWould you reconsider your leave of absence? The coverage will die down for a while now that there’s no primary.”
    Karen Sandstrom also asked me to stay longer. “Doesn’t this change things?”
    For a whole twenty-four hours, I thought maybe they were right. Maybe I could continue to write a column for a while.
    Then one of my oldest friends at the paper, editorial writer Joe Frolik, wrote a blistering attack on Sherrod—without identifying himself as a longtime family friend. Our families had celebrated many birthdays and holidays together. His take on the race was a two-fisted thrashing of Sherrod, a litany of my husband’s flaws through Joe’s eyes.
    I had no idea it was coming until I woke up that morning and turned to our op-ed page. The lengthy column, wrapped around a large photo of Sherrod and his friend Congressman Ted Strickland, was titled, “Brown Has a Little Time to Get Back on His Game.”
    When I arrived at the newsroom, several colleagues and a couple of editors mentioned the column to me. All of them said they were surprised by the vitriol, and they raised the same question ricocheting in my own head: Why wasn’t that writer held to the same standard of full disclosure as I? Why didn’t he reveal his family’s long-term friendship with the candidate’s wife?
    When I read Joe’s column now, all these months later, it doesn’t ignite the rage I felt at the time. He is a smart and gifted writer, and I wish him well. But his column still stings. I had tried to step as carefully as possible in the newsroom after Sherrod announced his candidacy. I had stopped attending newsroom meetings about political coverage, to avoid even the appearance of scouting for the campaign. I knew that Sherrod’s race would be scrutinized at every turn, which is what good journalists do—and I worked with some of the best. But I could not accept that after more than twenty years of friendship, there was no warning that my friend’s column was coming. And if I could not accept that, it was time for me to go.
    I told Stuart and Karen Sandstrom that my decision was final: The next day’s column would be my last. Even friends in the newsroom who had argued earlier in the week that I should stay until the summer now agreed there was no way I could.
    Stuart asked to speak to me privately. I thought he was going to lobby me to change my mind, but he was doing what he has always done for me in the newsroom. He was looking out for me one last time.
    â€œIf you don’t remember anything else I’ve told you in the last four years we’ve worked together, I want you to remember this,” he said. “The media are not your friends anymore. The people here are not your friends. They are journalists covering your husband’s race, and your history with them does not matter.”
    I hated that he said that, and I hated that he was right. I felt as if I were losing an entire community of friends.
    The day before my last column ran,
The Plain Dealer
’s reader representative, Ted Diadiun, announced my impending departure in the “Daynote,” a daily in-house e-mail to the newsroom:

    A FOND (AND TEMPORARY) FAREWELL:
    As you will read in her column tomorrow, Connie Schultz will be on sabbatical through the end of the political campaign in order to avoid the inevitable charges of conflict of interest