We Regret the Error

Cedar Valley News
Fictorial Number 419 · September 21, 2026
We Regret the Error
By Teresa Nikas

Every week, at the bottom of a page where almost no one ever looks, I print the things we got wrong.

A misspelled name. A wrong date. A street I called Elm when it was Elm Court. Last week it was the high school principal, whose name is Karen, and whom we printed as Karin, and who deserved better from us. This week, in small gray type, the paper says so. Last week we gave the wrong spelling of the principal’s name. It is Karen. We regret the error.

Nobody frames those little notices. Nobody shares them. They are the least glamorous words in the whole paper, and I have come to believe they are among the most important, and I want to tell you why, by way of the most famous correction ever printed.

In 1920, the New York Times ran an editorial sneering at a rocket scientist named Robert Goddard, who had dared to suggest a rocket might one day reach the moon. Impossible, said the Times. A rocket needs air to push against. Goddard, they wrote, seems to lack the knowledge ladled out daily in high schools. They were wrong, he was right, and they made a fool of a great man.

Then, on July 17, 1969, the morning after Apollo 11 lifted off toward the moon, the Times ran its correction. It confirmed, with a perfectly straight face, the workings of a rocket in a vacuum, and ended with the line everyone loves to quote. The Times regrets the error. Forty-nine years late.

People hold this up as the shining example of journalistic humility. And it is truly wonderful writing. But I am an editor, and I have printed a great many corrections, and I will tell you what I actually see when I read it.

I see a joke. A very good joke. Look at when it ran, the morning after the launch, pinned neatly to the biggest story on earth. Look at how it is written, gravely confirming the findings of Isaac Newton, as though the old man had been waiting all this while on the paper’s verdict. This is not a person on their knees. It is a grand institution winking at itself, spinning its own old blunder, cleverly and charmingly, into one more bright thread of the moon-shot story. The correction did not cost the paper a thing. It made the Times look wise, and rueful, and endlessly quotable. It strengthened the story.

And there, I have learned over the years, is exactly how you tell it apart from the real thing.

Because the honorable correction is never the one which makes a good story. It is the one at the bottom of the page, about the principal’s name, which no one will ever quote, share, or admire, set in small type for one reason only. Because it is owed. No cleverness, no timing, no wink, nothing to be gained. Only a woman who was named wrongly in front of her whole town, and a paper willing to stand up, quietly, and say, we got it wrong, we are sorry, and here is the truth.

The famous correction is famous because, in the end, it served the paper. The small one is invisible because it serves only the person we wronged. One is a performance. The other is an apology.

And we are all, every one of us, always choosing between those two. There is the sorry which is well-timed and well-worded and somehow leaves us looking better than before we said it. And there is the sorry which costs us something, gains us nothing, and is offered anyway, because it is simply, plainly owed.

So here is my quiet question for you this Monday morning.

The last time you were wrong, and said so out loud, which was it?

Was it the one which made you the better story?

Or the other one, small and unshared, which only set the record straight, because the person you wronged deserved the truth, and nothing more was in it for you?

I know which one I respect. I know which is harder. And I know, most weeks, which one actually gets printed.

Cedar Valley News is free, and it comes to your inbox every morning, six days a week. If this morning’s fictorial was worth your time, please forward it to someone who would value it. And if someone forwarded it to you and you’d like your own each morning, you can subscribe here.

Cedar Valley News has a Letters to the Editor page, and I would be glad to hear from you. When did you last offer the small, owed apology, the one with nothing in it for you? Write to us. And if we have gotten something wrong, write and tell us, and we will run the correction.

This fictorial is part of the fictional Cedar Valley News series, written by Evan Swensen, Publisher, and Claude Marshall, AI Developmental Editor. While Teresa and her town are fictional, the history is real. On January 13, 1920, a New York Times editorial mocked the rocket pioneer Robert H. Goddard for suggesting a rocket could reach the moon, dismissing his grasp of basic physics; the paper wrongly assumed a rocket needs air to push against, when in fact it works by Newton’s third law in a vacuum. On July 17, 1969, the day after Apollo 11 launched, the Times published a brief correction affirming a rocket functions in a vacuum and regretting its earlier error, some 49 years later. Goddard, mocked in his lifetime, died in 1945. Sources include The New York Times, the Smithsonian, and standard histories of Robert Goddard. The Cedar Valley principal example is illustrative and fictional.

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