Records in the paper: Like Mom in the driveway

Sunshine Week ended yesterday, but here are excerpts from a timeless column from Don McNay of Kentucky's Richmond Register that you can save for next year:

I am for all freedom of information, except when it applies to me. It is the same sentiment that many public officials have.

I learned about public disclosure at a young age.

When I was 16, I got a speeding ticket. I did not fear the justice system. I feared my mother.

The Kentucky Post had a section called the Town Crier. It listed people’s secrets and dirty laundry. If you went to court for any reason, it wound up in the Town Crier.

Like my neighbors, my family denounced the Town Crier as a horrible invasion of privacy. Like my neighbors, my family read it every day.

I knew my mom would see my Town Crier debut.

I tried a cover-up. For two weeks, I watched for the news carrier and rushed to catch the paper. I stood in the yard, read the Town Crier and brought the paper in after vetting.

I eventually found my name and proceeded to “lose” that section of the paper. The next day, mom was waiting in the driveway.

She had read the missing section at work.

She grounded me for the rest of my life, but I eventually got probation.

The Town Crier was a better security measure than the police. I prayed I would never be in it again.

Joe Hackett, one of my high school teachers, took the Town Crier to a new level. He would read the list of offenders to the study halls and embarrass the student in front of everyone else.

Public humiliation worked. Few of my classmates made multiple appearances.

The Kentucky Post shut down last year. As papers decline in circulation, the Town Crier sections are the first to go. Few papers print minor traffic violations. If they do, few people read them.

... There was a comfort level when my neighbors were doing the watching. They had standards I wanted to meet.

Peer pressure and social acceptance shape a person’s character.

Almost every president, with the exception of Theodore Roosevelt, came from a small town. A reason has to be that they grew up with a formal or informal version of the Town Crier.

They learned, like I did, that it was difficult to get away with doing something wrong. They learned it was even more difficult to cover it up.

... Sunshine laws work like my mother waiting in the driveway. They ensure that people who screw up will be exposed and they keep public officials in line so they think before they make a poor decision.