I was fortunate to make a fat mistake early in my journalism career and doubly fortunate to make it in front of a gentle farmer. I covered the Kutz family during Wisconsin’s drought of 1988 for a Milwaukee Sentinel series. I was as a lowly intern. I had good intentions and thought I got things right. Until I got them terribly wrong.
After one of my first stories ran, Ron Kutz was driving me around his farm in his pickup, showing me the early damage the scorching sun was doing to his crops. I could tell something was wrong because he was painfully pensive and quiet. And then it came,...