A Washington Post removed a letter on how D.C. is depressing because people don’t smile on the Metro or something Sunday after questions about the author’s identity were raised.
Poynter’s Jeremy Barr says he reached out to the Post after he couldn’t find an online footprint for “D.C., you’re depressing” author Jason Huntmann, who said he was a recent California transplant. Michael Larabee, the Post’s Letters and Local Opinions Editor, told the site: “We also noticed the absence of a Web presence, so we asked the author to send a copy of his cell phone bill to verify his name—which he did. However, your question has prompted us to make further inquiries, which are pending.”
And pending still, as of Monday morning. “I hope that once it’s resolved we’ll be able to put it back online but I don’t know yet when that would be,” Larabee told DCist today.
When asked what the vetting process involves, Larabee said they ask “writers to provide information about who they are” and then check “that and making further inquiries as warranted.” Letter writers are asked a number of questions including, “We need to know that you are using your real name.”
Now instead of the piece, there’s an editor’s note that says “This article is no longer available.” But you can still read the entire thing below and see the original comments here.
It’s been just a few months since I came to the District from California, and already it is Crystal City clear: D.C. is a downer.
Look no further than the Metro at 7 a.m. for a pure view into the city’s heart and soul. You will pass a slumped homeless veteran holding out a McDonald’s cup for money. The signage as you enter the station warns you to secure personal belongings lest they be stolen. The odds of being victimized are particularly high if you are a senior citizen. Classy.
After committing to pay a senseless amount of money for the day’s trip, you are inside the gates; easy going from here. Say “good morning” to the people gathered in the gloom, and you will quickly learn that this is not acceptable behavior. No hellos, no smiles. Every morning it’s the same: people with blank stares and the saddest-looking faces imaginable.
They are like cattle in a winter storm, gazing into space, waiting for their ride to the slaughter house.
A rat creeps across the track. The grimy train cars make a miserable sound as they grind to a stop. You are shouldered several times as you board and stake out a couple of square feet of stained carpet to stand on. The operator’s voice comes over broken speakers; it is somehow both too loud and completely indecipherable.
The stares and frowns continue the entire ride. No eye contact, no talking — this is Washington. One could superimpose faces from a Save the Children commercial onto the riders, and it would improve the mood.
Upon arriving downtown, you are bumped and nudged as you squeeze off the train. Fall in line at the escalator behind scores of silent, sullen, shuffling people sadly going about their existence. Everywhere you see cheap suits and failing confidence.
The irony runs deep. The capital of America the Beautiful is, in fact, ugly and uninspiring. The city houses elected officials cheering the bright and shining American Dream, but the citizens who work around them appear to be enduring unspeakable oppression.
The Metro is D.C., and D.C. is America. Please, keep your mouths shut and your eyes fixed on whatever little empty space you can find.
