Pia K. Hansen: Media scrutiny comes with high-profile public jobs

When I was a kid my dad was politically active. In my foggy memory it seems like he was always running for one office or another, but in reality he was only once elected to the local school board, and later once to a political seat that resembles what we know as a county commissioner.

I grew up in Denmark and my dad’s short political career coincided with my last years in the local school system. My dad ran for “Fremskridts Partiet,” a right-wing, ultraconservative party that opposed taxes, social services and government. In a social democratic country with a strong labor movement, that platform was new and unusual. And my dad’s views were very controversial.

The paper wrote about him. Not-so-kind letters to the editor were published about him.

This was small-town politics at its worst. Or maybe at its best?

In the late ‘70s, my dad’s second and last divorce was followed immediately by a third marriage, and it all coincided with an election.

It wasn’t the most graceful divorce, but what no one had imagined was that my family’s disintegration would end up in the local newspaper as part of the election coverage.

I was terrified. An awkward 13 years old at the time, I was approached by strangers who asked not only about my dad’s political views but now also why he couldn’t stick to one wife. I guess I could have told them this was wife No. 3, but I’m not sure that would have come across the right way.

My dad was livid. People stared. The party lost. Neighbors talked. I ducked.

Today, almost 30 years later, I can still recall entire sentences from one particular news story that blamed the local party’s demise on what the paper called my dad’s complicated personal life. After that story ran, I began approaching the afternoon paper with a sinking sense of dread that lasted until my dad dropped out of politics.

In an ideal world, this would be the point where I tell you that I decided to become a journalist to make up for the violation of privacy my family suffered so many years ago, but that would be a lie. What’s not a lie is that today I make a living in a business that’s notorious for digging into people’s private lives.

Sometimes people don’t like what shows up about them in the paper. Perhaps they are embarrassed by a habit exposed or a piece of background information they’d rather have left in the past.

The press has amazing freedom and access in this country. So it shouldn’t come as a big surprise that you lose some privacy when you accept a high-profile job in city administration, bankrolled by local taxpayers.

Does public employment automatically make you a public person? No, I don’t think so.

It’s perhaps not fair, but people are more interested in you when you work in the top levels of city management than when you work in, say, the city’s accounts receivable department.

I’m not saying it’s right, but there’s a direct correlation between the level of public interest and the size of the salary the public pays you. The higher you get on the pay scale, the more taxpayers want to know what exactly they are getting for their money. It’s called accountability.

And it’s part of the gig from the get-go. You knew from the time you filed your election papers or signed the employment contract with the city that you’d be under public and press scrutiny.

So don’t act all surprised and indignant when we come knocking on your door asking what you were doing the other night. Even in my business, honesty always works – especially if you have nothing to hide.

My dad? He dropped out of politics and focused on his business. And he’s still married to the wonderful woman he married back then.

And me? I got over the press-induced awkwardness soon enough to be elected the first youth mayor of my county.