Bungled, Botched, Blundered
Nels Noseworthy is a musician. A father of four. A guy well liked by his co-workers. He orders our office supplies and sorts our mail. He works at the front desk, screening our calls and politely telling nut jobs who want to storm the editor's office that she's in a meeting. And when some seedy-looking character walks in the front door to advertise his or her escort business in our classified section, he patiently walks them through the process, takes their payment and pockets barely enough to buy lunch at Sonic down the street.
He's a nice guy. But apparently he's also Public Enemy No. 1.
Why else would the Metro Police Department vice squad devote an appalling 18 months of time and resources to "investigate" and take down someone who was basically just acting as our receptionist? This lanky, soft-spoken character with a penchant for jazz—this is the guy fueling Nashville's prostitution problem? To quote John Stossel—who, by the way, would have a great time with this story of government intrusion and waste—give us a break.
Whether Noseworthy knew that some of his clients—or those who worked for his clients—were engaging in prostitution is something we don't know. We haven't seen the evidence. But that's beside the point. Even if he somehow breached Scene policies and did know there was illegal activity, we fail to understand how it's the place of a newspaper to serve as whistleblower for a flesh trade that operates in broad daylight, 365 days a year, on the police's watch.
We can't accept that the means were worth the end. We're not righteously indignant about the facts of the case (which we don't know). It's the fact that there was a case made at all that we find reprehensible. Indeed, it would seem laughable if a guy's life, family and reputation didn't hang in the balance. Police and—let's not sugarcoat this—a grand jury have concluded that Noseworthy apparently profited from prostitution businesses by accepting commissions on their advertisements.
First off: what profit? Noseworthy is not driving a BMW; he's not wearing fine threads and or vacationing in Aruba. He is not Superfly. If police investigators were looking for profiteers—under their ridiculously vague definition of the term, which applies to half the city—they should have dispatched their detectives to New York, headquarters of our parent company Village Voice Media. Or they should have headed straight for the Scene's upstairs corner office, where outgoing publisher Albie Del Favero (who's also part owner of VVM) spends his working days. After all, the Scene published the ads in question, not Noseworthy. He's just the guy who works the front desk.
From the overwhelming response we've gotten, public opinion is clearly on the side of our guy. And the reason our phones are ringing off the hook with messages of support and goodwill is because targeting Noseworthy was a heavy-handed waste of government resources. Period. It does not make our streets safe from vicious criminals. It doesn't stop or even slow whatever businesses should theoretically be affected. There's a reason prostitution is called the world's oldest profession. Incidentally, if it's so obvious that the businesses in question weren't exactly operating Bible schools, why did it take a year-and-a-half for police to put together a case?
According to incoming Scene publisher Chris Ferrell, this newspaper is suspending these types of ads pending review of our procedures (see the "Publisher's Note" on p. 7 and our house ad on p. 74). This stands every libertarian fiber of the Scene's edit staff on end. We understand that the move makes sense from a practical standpoint. But it gives blatant intimidation tactics a victory, however temporary.
It must be said that this all might have gone down differently if the Scene's publisher hadn't gotten piss-poor advice from the VVM corporate counsel in New York—namely, not to talk to police when they called two weeks ago to discuss these ads. In this town, when we have a problem with each other, we sit down and work it out. We raise our voices, maybe even slam down the phone once or twice. But we don't hide from authorities who have legal issues to discuss. Had the sales gurus of this newspaper followed their own instincts, instead of feeling pressure to defer to someone 885 miles away who knows nothing about Nashville, this whole situation might have been like the ghost of Christmas future—a bad dream never realized.
Instead, the reality is a nightmare. Pimps, prostitutes and tricks operate unimpeded, while Nels Noteworthy is the one facing jail time. And if Noseworthy profited, as the police claim, then under their loose interpretation of the statute we all did. Our paychecks come from the revenues of this newspaper. Following the logic of the PD, we're all guilty and could be escorted from behind our desks, cuffed and hauled away. (Please call ahead, so we can primp for our mug shots and perp walks.)
This newspaper has evenhandedly reported and even lauded Nashville's crackdown on prostitution businesses. Trying to portray us—or, worse, Nels Noseworthy—as the enemy is just folly.
Instead, the reality is a nightmare. Pimps, prostitutes and tricks operate unimpeded, while Nels Noteworthy is the one facing jail time. And if Noseworthy profited, as the police claim, then under their loose interpretation of the statute we all did. Our paychecks come from the revenues of this newspaper. Following the logic of the PD, we're all guilty and could be escorted from behind our desks, cuffed and hauled away. (Please call ahead, so we can primp for our mug shots and perp walks.)
This newspaper has evenhandedly reported and even lauded Nashville's crackdown on prostitution businesses. Trying to portray us—or, worse, Nels Noseworthy—as the enemy is just folly.
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