I am fairly certain that everywhere in the journalism industry—whether print, broadcast television, radio, or digital communications— there are publishers, editors, or even reporters that have some affinity for history. After all, history is nothing more than the stories we pass down to the generations that follow.
It was Washington Post publisher Philip Graham that said: “Journalism is the first rough draft of history.”
He said it in 1963, a decade before the Post’s reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein earned a Pulitzer Prize for investigative journalism for their coverage of the Watergate scandal.
The kicker to this fun fact is that Woodward and Bernstein had been documenting their investigative work for a year before they earned the award. Even more interesting is that although the scandal ended with President Nixon’s resignation, Nixon had actually crushed George McGovern during the November election that was held amidst those early Washington Post reports.
Which shows that even historically, public attention has been a challenge to gain, and civic action often takes considerably longer, even if the message is about drafting a blueprint for better tomorrow.
Founding Fathers Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison drafted 85 essays that would later be known as the Federalist Papers. From 1787– 1788, these works would be published in newspapers: The Daily Advertiser, Independent Journal, and New-York Packet.
It took nearly two years, three men writing thousands of words, and multiple news outlets to capture the attention of the public. It took another two years to drive the action the series called for.
Fortunately, for our present day, that historical moment—that stretch over three years—ended in 1790, when the Articles of Confederation were officially replaced by the ratification of the U.S. Constitution.
Its First Amendment created an avenue for the public to be kept in the informational loop ever since, assuring a free and independent press. Of course, civic change only occurs with civic action, meaning that reporters report—which can be the catalyst for change—but improving the quality of outcome is in the hands of the readers.
Nearly 100 years after the Constitution—along with its First Amendment— was ratified, Nellie Bly changed the press forever in 1887.
Claiming her name as Nellie Brown, Bly seemed to have suffered an acute mental breakdown, spiraling into a state of what local police and physicians called “insanity.” She was committed to Blackwell’s Island asylum in New York.
Brown likely could have won awards for her acting skills had she also not been a proficient writer and pioneering investigative journalist. In her subsequent book, “Ten Days in a Mad-House,” Bly published her experiences that exposed the deplorable conditions of mental health institutions of the time.
A few years later in 1906, Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle drew from his undercover work in Chicago meatpacking plants and exposed the exploitation of immigrant laborers, corrupt wealth, and unsanitary meat production. Its revelations helped build public pressure around the time Congress passed the Pure Food and Drug Act and the Federal Meat Inspection Act.
The Washington Post’s two-year coverage of the Watergate scandal led to Nixon’s resignation in 1974. However, while the Times was investigat- ing Vietnam and the Post was investigating Watergate, the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission was investigating… Texans.
The SEC filed a complaint in the Dallas federal court, which broke the story of the Sharpstown scandal and the “Dirty Thirty.” It would also create heat and pressure that would transform the political mud into transparency laws.
The 1971–1972 Sharpstown scandal exposed a bribery and stock-fraud scheme involving Texas officials, including Gov. Preston Smith and House Speaker Gus Mutscher. Houston banker Frank Sharp provided loans to officials who profited from stock tied to legislation favorable to his banks. The scandal led to convictions, fueled the rise of the “Dirty Thirty” reformers, and helped push major Texas ethics and transparency reforms, including the 1973 Open Records Act, which was later renamed the Texas Public Information Act.
The Texas Public Information Act remains a key transparency law, though it has been changed over time by legislation and court rulings. As of 2026, it still calls for records access to be interpreted broadly in favor of the public, while advocacy groups continue working to protect and strengthen it.
And one of the best parts of the TPIA, like the U.S. Constitution, is that it applies to “we the people” equally. The press remains free, most records remain public, and when the two come together with reporters publish what the records reveal, the power to draft the future’s history rests in no one’s hands but your own.