COMM 150, 209, 291, 297, 393: Which means I want everybody to read it because it's the future of journalism ...

In this month's Illinois Issues magazine, a profile of Rich Miller, who reports and writes Capitol Fax, a newsletter on state government and politics that simply outclasses the so-called "mainstream media," i.e. the papers in Chicago, Springfield (and hardly anywhere else in recent years) that maintain bureaus in the Illinois Statehouse.

Nut graf, followed by a really good quote:

Miller’s readers are the legislators, staffers, lobbyists, reporters and business owners throughout Illinois who pay $350 a year to subscribe to Capitol Fax, the two-to-three page daily faxed newsletter that’s unknown in most of the state but ubiquitous in the Statehouse.

How many subscribers there are remains a guarded secret. Miller reveals only that there are fewer than 2,000; his home on Lake Springfield suggests it’s maybe not many fewer. In any case, friends and foes alike acknowledge that the newsletter generally delivers on its mantra of “Political Intelligence.’’

“In caucus, people will say, ‘Let’s keep this confidential, I don’t want to read this in Capitol Fax,’ and afterward, sure enough, there’s a special edition’’ revealing what went on in caucus, says state Senate President John Cullerton, a Chicago Democrat. “He’s obviously got his sources.’’

McDermott also says:

... Miller, a former door-to-door salesman (“Better journalism training than anything,’’ he insists), started Capitol Fax in 1993 with $7,000 borrowed from his parents.

At the time, the newsletter’s mix of information, analysis, opinion and even advice to the state’s political leaders was unusual-bordering-on-sacrilegious under the rigid rules of mainstream political journalism. Today, those very media are morphing at the edges into something like Capitol Fax, with snarky blogs, real-time insider political analysis and other relatively new offerings.

“I think Rich was probably ahead of the curve,’’ says Don Craven of the Illinois Press Association, “and the curve is catching up with him.’’

Miller's way of reporting is more traditional, even time-honored, although we see less of it than we used to because newspapers have cut back so much on their coverage of state government.

If the legislature is in session, he’ll drive to the Capitol by midafternoon and stop by a series of what he calls “watering holes.’’

“It’s like hunting — you know, you go to a watering hole, and you wait for the animals to come to you. You don’t go out in the middle of the desert searching for animals.’’ The watering holes include the brass rail outside the House and Senate chambers, certain hallways, certain lawmakers’ offices, “the little nooks and crannies of the Capitol.’’ And, later, the bars.

The story is by Kevin McDermott, bureau chief for The St. Louis Post-Dispatch. It, too, is a model of good political journalism.