COCAINE MADE THE MAIL CRAZY

The late Bob Vezina, arguably one of the best city editors this newspaper
ever had, used to threaten the immediate dismissal of any reporter who
screwed up a phone number in a story.

To this day, some 15 years later, I am loath to put a phone number in an
article. However, when I must, I check the number carefully, and phone it
myself (often more than once) to make sure it is correct -- all the while
remembering the sound of Vez's gruff, expletive-enhanced voice promising to
drop-kick my sorry keister into the unemployment line.

Nonetheless, we all make mistakes, don't we?

While it hardly qualifies as a firing offence (even under Vez's stern
rules), one would think my little gaffe here last Friday was one of epic
proportion. The e-mails have yet to stop, and the voice messages from the
Good Readership -- left at all hours of the day and night -- have yet to cease.

The focus of last Friday's column was the police takedown of a Scarborough
crackhouse and the cast of characters that was in attendance when the
battering ram met the door -- drug-addicted B&E artists, strung-out
prostitutes and a ringleader who fuelled their habit in return for their
stolen goods and the proceeds from their pimped bodies.

And, to jazz up the piece, I ran a few lyrics from the J.J. Cale song,
Cocaine. Unfortunately, I credited its authorship to the artist whose voice
I hear in my mind's ear whenever I think of that song -- the voice of rock
legend Eric Clapton.

The response was immediate, and then relentless.

The Letters to the Editor section received only one letter regarding my
brain cramp, and it was duly published -- which was enough to let the Good
Readership know that my error had not escaped notice and had been duly noted.

A Flood Of Mail

My mail boxes, however, were jammed. Both the electronic and the voice
portals were on the verge of overload. Forget the mental portrait of
neighbours living in fear because there's a crackhouse on their street. No,
all that went by the wayside.

Instead, it was all about the Cale-Clapton cockup.

One of the kinder responses came from Erik Maddocks who wrote: "I enjoyed
your article, 'Crack(ed) lives.' Just thought you should know J.J. Cale
wrote Cocaine. I imagine 99.9% of the people think Clapton wrote it also."

Maybe so, but the majority of the writers and callers were not as gentle as
Mr. Maddocks. They ranged from "How could you be so stupid?" to "Does
'check your sources' sound familiar?"

It was quite the onslaught.

Sooner or later, one intuitively knew it was bound to end on the Web site
of Frank, the satirical magazine which relishes the discomfort of others.

And it did.

It was posted on the Frank Forum at 11:33 a.m. on Sept. 15, two full days
after the column first appeared in The Sun, by someone writing under the
pen name of oxleymoron.

Under the subject heading, "Inaccurate hacks," the anonymous oxleymoron
wrote, "Would someone please tell Mark Bonokoski that Eric Clapton did not
write Cocaine. Although many columnists try to represent their opinion as
'fact,' he seems to have taken it to a new level by creating a 'fact,'
which, of course, makes it an 'untruth.' He would fit right in with the
Bush Bunch, for sure."

This, of course, is a bit over the top. According to oxleymoron's way of
thinking, my error of mistaken songwriters somehow ranks me right up there
with the backers of U.S.President George W. Bush and their quest to
spin-doctor the world into accepting their lust to bomb Iraq into one big
oil slick.

Slap Upside The Head

What would have happened if, say, I had wrongly credited Frank Sinatra for
writing My Way?

I'd hate to hazard a guess.

That said, however, I did know somewhere back in the recesses of my memory
that it was J. J. Cale who wrote Cocaine. And I gave myself a slap upside
the head the moment the first e-mail notified me of the dumb mistake I had
so inadvertently made.

Beat poet Charles Bukowski was right.

It's not the major things in life that tend to drive people crazy.

Instead, it's the "shoelace that snaps with no time left."