"Great catch," or, Robert strokes his ego

The biggest compliment you can give a copy editor is to tell him or her "Great catch." Those two words are music to our ears, and it's the only bit of gratitude we get in an otherwise thankless job. A copy editor lives for those words, and often shares stories about how he or she singlehandedly saved the paper from being wrong/looking stupid/getting sued, etc.

Last night I snagged one of the biggest catches in a long time, so indulge me as I share my story. (Now's your chance to hit the "back" button on your browser.)

The paper was running a story that focused on the bizarre gimmicks politicians are using to attract attention in a somewhat uninspiring House race. With no major issues galvanizing the campaign, few people seem to care what these guys have to say. That's why they're doing such bizarre stunts as challenging other candidates to a Wiffle ball tournament.

The story and its accompanying graphic that was a game ("Match the politician with the gimmick" and it had little photos of Wiffle balls and other stunts along with photos of three candidates) had been vetted by the metro editor, news editor, Page One editor, graphics editor and the designer. The slot (head of the copy desk) gave it to me to edit and headline about 8 p.m.

I'm meticulous for checking facts in copy. Unless the name is obvious, like George Bush, I check it. Even in wire stories. And when I started checking the names of the politicians in the story and graphic, I discovered a startling and embarrassing error: the photo of candidate Jamie Eldridge showed a smiling woman with long, brown hair.

The problem was Jamie Eldridge is a man.

I showed the Page One editor, and we jumped into the photo archive and, sure enough, the wrong photo was used.

He jumped up from his chair and walked over to graphics and asked "Who's in charge of bailing our asses out?"

Everyone on the desk was really happy I caught that, not only because it saved the paper face, but it reinforced just how important copy editors are. We're not just pedants who chase stray commas; we truly are the last line of defense.

"Great catch," the executive editor sent to me in an e-mail today. "You really saved the day."

Man, I love those words.