5
10flhe Daily Tar HeelWednesday, April 27, 1983
UlttiP
CDar
91st year of editorial freedom
Kerry DeRochi, tor
- Alison Davis, Managing Editor'
LISA PULLEN, University Editor
Christine Manuel, sa w National Editor
Mike DeSisti, Sw Editor '. .
BILL RiEDY, News Editor
Jeff Hiday.
John Conway, cuy Editor
KAREN FISHER, Features Editor
jEGKOVE, Arts Editor
CHARLES W. LEDFORD, Photography Editor
Live and let
A federal law went into effect last month requiring that all hospitals
receiving federal funds post signs reading: "Discriminatory failure to feed
and care for, handicapped infants in this facility is prohibited." Such
legislation was in reaction to several incidents in which the parents of in
fants born with brain damage or life-threatening handicaps have denied
their consent for low-risk surgery for the infants, who subsequently died.
The law, however, failed to recognize the complexity of the issue it ad
dressed, and a federal judge struck it down earlier this month. In turn, ;
several congressmen have introduced bills designed to set up similar
restrictions concerning the choices of an afflicted infant's parents and
physicians. .. ,
This current controversy is yet another example of the darker side of
the two-faced coin which symbolizes the impressive advances of modern
medicine, the side of the coin which asks society to answer the most dif
ficult of ethical questions. How vigorously should doctors fight to sustain
a life which cannot support itself? And is it more right to intervene
medically and postpone the moment of death than it is to let nature takes
its course?
There is a practical dimension to this issue, a dimension which requires
some objectivity. When an infant needing extensive, out-of-the-ordinary
medical care is so severely handicapped that he will never lead a life with
any independence or normalcy, the cost of maintaining his existence must
be evaluated. Is such a life worth the emotional and financial toll it will
take on parents and siblings? Should the money of taxpayers be used to
prolong such a life?
In question here are sensitive ethical matters about which no legislation
will ever be sufficiently comprehensive and judicious. No single law will
ever be able to anticipate the breadth of circumstances which render each
individual case unique.
It's up to lawmakers to delineate some guidelines, based on the nature
of the infant's affliction and the extent of his dependence upon unusual
medical procedures, concerning the fate of the child. Certainly, the handi
capped infants who remain alive solely by virtue of their attachments to
machines might be allowed to die. But when a baby is merely mentally
retarded and the medical measures required to save his life are low-risk,
commonplace procedures, he should be treated.
Outside of these general guidelines, the decision concerning the infant's
fate must rest with his parents and physicians. They are the only ones
who will fully comprehend each situation's circumstances. And these ,
people, those closest to the infant, are the ones who will be responsible
for the care upon which he will be dependent for the duration of his life.
Blocking busing
Th$ Charlotte-Mecklenburg school system has long been acclaimed as
the nation's model of a busing plan that works. It's ironic then that while
this system prepares to graduate its second class of students who have at
tended integrated schools all their lives, mandatory busing programs na
tionwide face opposition from those who advocate voluntary plans. The
arguments for voluntary busing however, are short-sighted and better
suited for a Utopian Society where there are no prejudices, no racism
rather than a U.S. inner city. To say that voluntary desegregation can
work is to deny that past separation and inequality never existed.
Mandatory busing has always had opposition, ever since the 1954
Supreme Court ruling which gave it its legal power.
Traditionally, it has been the parents who have opposed busing, citing
the inconvenience and ineffectiveness of such plans. They've argued that
it isn't good for children to ride a bus for more than 10 minutes; the
children wouldn't like it. And besides, they've added, surely the gas costs
too much.
It's by concentrating on busing's logistics that has enabled the op
ponents to deny the foundation for their opposition: the fear that sending
blacks to white schools would downgrade the white school's education
programs, and that sending whites to black schools would not be fair for
the whites. It's the philosophy that began with the Jim Crow laws of the
late 1880s and the philosophy that still segregates much of society today.
By viewing integration as a potential harm to a school system, op
ponents deny its very strength and support the need for a mandatory
plan. Integrating the schools provides for further integration of society.
Under a voluntary plan, that just won't happen. It hasn't before. To call
mandatory busing some type of tyranny imposed upon school children is
to downplay the significance and benefits of a system which has en
couraged black and white children to work together and perhaps accept
each other as equals. Certainly that is worth a 15-miniite bus ride.
The Daily Tar Heel
Editorial Desk: Frank Bruni and Kelly Simmons, writers;
Jonathan Takott, staff columnist :'..-:;
Assistant Managing Editors: Pete Felkrier, Lisbeth Levine, Melissa Moore and Eddie Wooten ,
Special Projects: Mark Ancona and Keith Bradsher
News: Tracy Adams, Cheryl Anderson, Pete Austin, Joseph Berryhill, Ashley Blackwelder,
J. Bonasia, Joel Broadway, Paul Cocke, Tom Cordon, Kate Cooper Ashley Dimmette,
Lisa Do wis, Charles Ellmaker, Suzanne Evans, Katherine Farley, Bonnie Foust, Sherri
Goodson, Julie Haack, John Hackney, Ivy Hillard, Kevin Johnston, Bob Kimpleton, Kim
Kleman, Rita Kostecke, Susan Kuhn, Stuart Long, Eugene Marx,' Gary Meek, Karen
Moore, Kim Morrison, Thad Ogburn, Ellen Orahood, Rosemary Osborn, Heidi Owen,
David Poole, Sarah Raper, Sharon Rawlins, Mike O'Reilly, Mont Rogers, Lynsley Rollins,
Cindi Ross, Mike Sharsky, Lori Schantz, Sharon Sheridan, Jodi Smith, Don Solomon,
James Stephens, Mark Stinneford, Susan Sullivan, Carrie Szymeczek, Amy Tanner, Keith
Taylor, Lynda Thompson, Stuart Tonkinson, Michael Toole, Perry Twisdale, Beth Walters,
Mickey Weaver, Scott Wharton and Lynda Wolf. Liz Lucas, assistant University editor,
Hope Buffington, assistant state' and national editor.
Sports: Frank Kennedy and Kurt Rosenberg, assistant sports editors. Glenna Burr ess, Paul
Gardner, Lonnie McCullough, Draggan Mihailovich, Kathy Norcross, Robyn Norwood,
Michael Persinger, Lew Price, S.L. Price, Lee Roberts, Allen Dean Steele, Mike Waters and
Tracy Young. ' . V', '- . : . ; Y''" - '' '
Features: Debbie August, Dan Bishop, Dawn Brazell, Toni Carter, Michelle Christenbury,
Tom Camacho, Tom Grey, Cindy Haga, Kathy Hopper, Dana Jackson, Warren Miller,
Mitzi Morris, Jane Osment, Stevie Roe, Debbi Sykes, Randy Walker, Clinton Weaver and
Edith Wooten, Mike Truell, assistant features editor.,'. . .
Arts: David Schmidt, assistant arts editor; John Altschuler, Steve Carr, Jim Clardy, Todd
Davis, Jo Ellen Meekins, Karen Rosen, Gigi Sonner and D.F. Wilson. t V
Graphic Arts: Jamie Francis, Jeff Neuville, Zane Saunders, Scott Sharpe, Al Steele and Lori,
Thomas photographers. Dick Anderson, Greg Calibey, Cabell Finch, Doug Hilburn, An
thony Moses and Janice Murphy, artists. - 4
Business: Rejeanne V. Caron, business manager; Anne Sink, assistant business manager,
Linda A. Cooper, secretaryreceptionist; Dawn Welch, circulationdistribution manager;
Patti Pittman and Angie Wolfe, classifieds. '
Advertising: Paula Brewer, advertising manager; Mike Tabor, advertising coordinator;
Sharon Duckworth, Keith Lee, Terry Lee, Jeff McElhaney, Doug Robinson, Deana Setzer
and Maria Zablocki ad representatives. ' ' - "
Composition: UNC-CH Printing Department r
Printing: Hinton Press,-Inc. of Mebane.
Th
esilentsii
fferers
By KEITH TAYLOR
The welts on Dominique's head protruded like brown
bubbles the size of marbles through his curly black hair.
The blood stains on the shirt he was wearing when the
crewleader beat him up had dried into a sickening red
brown. ' . . '
But by the time the Haitian migrant worker's case came
up in Wilson County District Court, the welts from two
months earlier had all but healed. Dominique's counsel
from Legal Services had photos of the welts at their worst,
and they had the bloodied shirt. But the crewleader's at
torney had a point: No one could prove that the welts- in
the pictures had been those on Dominique's head. As for.
the shirt, it could have belonged to anyone, he said, and
the blood could have come from anywhere. It proved
.-nothing.' ' . . s ; ... ;" , -' -'.
Nothing except that someone had brutally beaten
someone else. r
The judge had to let the crewleader go. There wasn't
even a slap on the wrist. Once again, a case of violence
against migrant farmworkers in eastern North Carolina
had gone unpunished. Y Y :
Why was Dominique beaten? He had come to the
refuge of a friend who had likewise been beaten after
complaining about his wages. Migrant farmworkers are
generally paid by the bushel for gathering such crops as
cucumbers, peppers and sweet potatoes, sometimes at the
ridiculously low wage of 30 cents for a large bucket. It's
certainly all right (and legal) to pay farmworkers by the
bushel as long as they receive minimum wage. But most
do not; the law gets ignored;
The predominantly black crewleaders who work for
predominantly white fanners and landowners use in
debtedness, force or the threat or violence to keep the
workers under control and to prevent them from leaving
the camps. It's a virtual slave system comprised mostly of
blacks, Haitians and Hispanics. It allows many of the
landowners to deny that such a system exists on their pro
; perty, or to claim (sometimes truthfully) that they did not
know it was going on. The farmers' drops get harvested
cheaply while the crewleaders handle the workers.
In 1975, a migrant worker named Charlie Jones tried to
ask crewleader Freddie Lee Black about his wages. He
asked twice. The second time, Black shot him to death.
For the killing, Black pleaded guilty to involuntary
manslaughter. He paid a fine of $1,000 and court costs
and received a suspended prison sentence.
While murders of migrant workers in eastern North
Carolina have been rare, other cases of mistreatment have ,
been more common. Most migrants are forced to accept
substandard, unhealthy housing often reconverted
animal' pens or tobacco barns. For this housing, the
migrants are often charged more than they earn for their
work in the fields, so that at the end of the growing season
they."owe" money to the crewleaders or the farmers. In
. some cases, the migrants drink and bathe in contaminated
water which has nevertheless met with the approval of the
health departments. The question of who's responsible is
complex, as ure most of the problems the migrants face.
; ' The state government could go a long way in rectifying
at least some of this inhumane treatment. No single agen
cy is responsible for addressing the problems of migrant
farmworkers. Complaints are usually handled by the local .
sheriff or other authorities, who often seem to handle calls
however they wish, often according to the dictates of per
sonal prejudice. Most migrants know this. As a result,
cases of mistreatment go unreported. The workers prefer
quiet endurance to making complaints that will likely
result in retaliation from the crew boss. Y
The migrants will be back again this summer. As usual,
their welcome will be mixedFarmers are glad to have the
cheap labor of migrants. But letters to editors in eastern
counties have complained about the problems that the
migrants themselves are blamed for bringing into the
state. The writers of these letters obviously have no
understanding of the myriad reasons why the problems
- exist in the first place.
The general attitude of many people is like that of The
Sampson Independent, which said in an editorial a few
years back: , v Y
"Having the migrants with all the accompanying ills ,
and trouble is the price that the county is having to pay for
being an agricultural county with an emphasis on pro
duce." - Y'-:" '. -
Many people cannot see ways of helping the migrants,
or reasons for doing so, because they can see only the
' "problems" they themselves encounter as a result of the
migrant system (such as large numbers of migrants hang
ing out at "respectable" shopping centers on Sunday
.afternoons). As a result unless there is an unexpected
change of attitude, little will be done to effect any real im
provement in the migrant situation.
Which is a shame. The Raleigh News and Observer, in a
September 2, 1981, editorial, said North Carolina holds
the "unenviable distinction of being first in exploitation of
some of the nation's least fortunate people." The
' newspaper called for consolidation of state responsibilities
regarding the migrants into a single agency. That would be
a good start toward correcting the abuses of migrant
farmworkers; but so far, the Legislature has not taken any
action.. .
Hie problem of fair treatment for the migrants is not an
. issue that will go away until the people of North Carolina
decide they are willing to make it go away. With language
barriers, lack of political and economic clout, and a seem
ingly infinite number of other disadvantages, there is little
the migrants can do to pull themselves up by their own
bootstraps.
Keith Taylor, a senior journalism major from Wilson,
worked as a volunteer assistant for Farmworkers Legal
Services the last two summers. ,
LETTERS
TO THE EDITOR
What do pro-lifers care about?
To the editor: '
After reading the "pro-life" letters in
the DTH on April 25, it occurred to me
that, rather than sitting at home burning
with righteous anger or spending a couple
of dollars on posterboard and marching in
the streets, those fine people might be the
very ones to start and operate a program
which will really put an end to the problem
of abortions.
First is the establishment of an adoption
service in which the names of concerned
pro-lifers are placed in a register. When a
woman becomes pregnant, instead of
seeking an abortion she will visit a pro-life
center and learn the identity of a person
randomly selected from the register who
will pay all medical, nutritional and other
expenses associated with her pregnancy.
When the child is born, this person will
adopt it and see to it that any losses the
natural mother may have suffered (job,:
family, etc.) are restored. What if the per-
son selected isn't ready for a baby? What
if she can't afford jt? What about the
problems of raising a child, the lifetime
; commitment? Certainly "inconveniences"
such, as these aren't worthy of considera
tion. Even better than an adoption service is
To the editor:
On April 11, 1983, sometime bet
ween 8:30 and 9 p.m., I was denied the
right to speak at a Chapel Hill Town
Council meeting. I was item No. 4 on
the agenda that evening and 15
minutes was allocated (according to
the agenda), to the topic of a
modification for an existing develop
ment permit. Politican (and Mayor)
Joe Nassif breezed through agenda
item No. 4 like the east west trade
winds, spending at most one-and-a-half
minutes on an item the staff
thought deserved 15 minutes.
When Nassif began reading item
No. 4 1 rose from my front-row seat in
the audience to take the speaker's
position at the podium in front of the
council members. Nassif did not even
ask if anyone wanted to speak on the
issue , but instead called for a vote to
extend, for three months, a decision on
the request. I said nothing, walked
away from the podium and left the
council room.
This action by an elected official
violates the very cornerstone of our
free society. When it becomes such
that people are penalized for disagree
ing and opposing an established order
we all lose a part of our freedom; a
freedom that we may never again
regain.
It should also be noted that not any
of the other council members rose to
defend this constitutionally
guaranteed right. It was like a picture
out of a history book depicting an
earlier time in our history when politi
cians pushed aside Indians, blacks or
other people in our society who were
seeking a more humane balance bet- ,
ween themselves and an inbred power,
structure, of self-perpetuation.
I ask the citizens of Chapel Hill, is
this the sort of behavior you will
tolerate from your Town Council? I
don't think so.
. ' '
Roger D. Messer
. Chapel Hill
having pro-lifers volunteer to' pay for a
cesarean ; section for the prospective
mother as soon as the decision is made to
have an abortion. Surely a six-week-old
embryo (excuse me ' person) can be
removed from the uterus and placed in a
loving home at that time. After all, the
woman's blood and the person's never
.mix. There just might be a low survival
.rate for this operation, although since an
embryo is no more dependent for life on
the body housing it than a newborn baby
is on its mother, I can't imagine why.
I have a plan to solve that problem also.
All pro-lifers should immediately begin
placing 15 percent to 20 percent of their in-.
come into a fund which will sponsor
research for an operation in which a fetus
can be transferred to the uterus of another
woman, who will be randomly selected
from the above-mentioned register. This
woman and the male of her choice (but
also on the register) will pay for both
operations and for all expenses during the
recovery period of both, women. 'The
natural mother would sign papers giving
up all rights to the fetus. Now, this may be
inconvenient for the new parents, but that
is no consideration when a person's life is
at stake. ,
After the operation, the new mother can
either bask in the admiration of others
when she tells of the sacrifice she's mak
ing, or she can play the game as it is really
played and see what reaction friends,
relatives and even strangers will have when
they learn of her approaching single parent
hood. (Married pro-lifers, this is one less
problem for; you.) With all the advances
being made in medicine today and with the
tremendous funding this project' would
have, there is no doubt that such an opera
tion is possible.
Since there will always be women who
want and get abortions, legal or not,
everyone who sincerely believes that abor
tion is murder has a moral obligation to
participate fully in this program. They
may feel that they shouldn't have to take
responsibility for another person's misfor
tune, but if that is the case, what do they
really care about the life of a, child or
seeing to it that any woman guilty of the
heinous crime of sexual intercourse is duly
punished?
M.L. Jones
Chapel Hill
Start planning now
To the editor:
For the moment, forget , about the
tickets that should have been sold, and
look at the 4,300 fans who did go to the
Carolina Concert for Children. Look at
the great time they had screaming, dancing
and, as Bono. (of the group U-2) said,
"singing in the rain!"
From rapping with Grandmaster Flash,
to holding my breath hoping Bono
wouldn't fall as he climbed to the roof of
the stage, the concert was a success! To all
that worked so hard to bring us the '83
concert thanks! I can't wait until '84!
Let's start signing petitions, holding
debates and writing to the DTH in support
of Chapel Thrill. Let's start now looking
for bands to make next year's concert even
better!
Linda Messner
Chapel Hill
teeling the show
By FRANK BRUNI
if.
Max Steele stands at one end of a seminar table, his
eyes deep-set and sparkling above rosy cheeks. He looks
much like one might expect Santa Clause to look without
his white beard and red suit. The perpetual blush of his
face lends to him an air of charismatic jovialty.
"Hello, I'm Doris Betts and a funny thing happened to
me on the way to class, " he says, barely able to contain his
own laughter and obviously pleased with the chain of
hysteria he unleashes among the 15 students.
Betts has asked Steele to substitute one of her creative
writing classes. He has obliged, seizing the opportunity to
do what he does best win affection and admiration for
his warmth and vivacity and openness.
"There's no one point where you decide you're going
to write," Max Steele, English professor and head of the
creative writing program at UNC, says. "You make the
commitments as you find out that you can write well, as
' you find yourself successful."
Indeed, Steele has had many such affirmations of his
talent. He sold his first stories at the young age of 21."
Before too long, his work had been published in such well
reperiodjcals as Harper's, Atlantic Monthly, and
Cosmopolitan. .
"I wrote," says Steele, "because I was making a living
at it and I didn't know how else I could make money."
In 1950, Steele's novel Debby won the. Harper Prize,
beating over 600 entries, for the best novel of the year.
Other accolades, have ensued, with both 1955's "The
Wanton Troopers" and 1969's "Color the Daydream
Yellow" being chosen as O'Henry Prize Stories (an annual
compilation of the year's dozen or. so best works in short
fiction) for their respective years. .
The past few years have found Steele mostly teaching.
For Max Steele, the combination of teaching and writing
is not always an easy mixture. He finds teaching the col
lege students of today to write a particularly difficult
challenge and blames the eminence of the television set in
the contemporary home for much of this. Y
"Students write stories like television characters
speak," Steele complains. "And the hardest thing to get
writers to do is to tell the truth. I'm not sure I believe in
talent. Talent may be the ability to tell the truth."
, Steele believes that the writers who make successes of
themselves are not necessarily the ones who handle their
prose the most deftly, "I'm much more interested in
discipline," Steele says. "It's those who have good work
habits who publish later on." ;
Max Steele has asked students to each draw a horse on
the blackboard. In groups of three or four, they scurry to
x
the board and ineptly attempt to etch chalk renditions of
the animal. These students are writers, not equestrians.
But Max Steele has something up his sleeve. , ; :;:
Within minutes, one wall of the Greenlaw seminar
room is covered by a parade of horses. Some are gallop
ing; some stand still. One is backward, its rear end facing
the class. Still another oddly resembles the Peanuts car
toon character Snoopy. e "Y c v
Max Steele steps up to the board. Then, one by one, he
analyzes the personality of each horse's creator. Curved
lines in the drawing of a horse indicate emotional balance;
- jagged, rigid lines with sharp angles represent a capricious,
passionate nature. A galloping horse reveals its artist's
flexibility and continual growth. A still horse depicts
stagnation! "r 'Y'.- Y.-. .:'YY ;
Then Max Steele approaches perhaps the oddest entry
in the barnyard pageant - a horse with no body, a
perfectly round face with human features, and a mane
brushed like a ponytail to one side of its head.
"This, " Max Steele begins, and then shakes his head.
"This is the strangest class I've ever encountered. "
At times, Max Steele wishes he didn't have to worry
about publishing. ;
"I like writing," Steele explains, "but I hate publica
tions. Publishing today has become a bit of a three-ring
circus. It's such a jazzy thing, with the speaking and
readings and book signings."
Still, Steele admits to his need for readers. "Readers are
essential to the writing part. I doubt if I could ever write
anything without publishing it." Y
Although Steele is ambivalent about the publication of
his works, there is no wavering in his dedication to truth
and sincerity in his writing. He recognizes that his newest
short story, "The Man in the Doll House," will be hard to
sell because of its religious references and the prominent
symbol of a crucifix. "I knew that while I was writing it,"
he states matter-of-factly, "but I wanted to write it
, anyway." .
Steele's forte has always been the short story. His fic
tion has frequently graced the pages of Esquire and The
New Yorker, among ' other magazines. Yet Steele's
absence from academia this past semester has been
dedicated to work on a new novel, which promises to be
as serious, thoughtful and, of course, truthful as the rest
of his work. Y .
"It's about marriage," he says, and stops there. Max
Steele has never been one to carry on about himself or his
:work. Y' " Y ; Y --fYY '
Max Steele isn't sure. On the one hand, he'd like to
hear the students read some of their own work, but, on
the other hand, he's holding in front of him this short
' story which he's just finished and about which he seems
extremely excited. ;
"I'd like to read it to you, " he says, "but it's really too
long to read aloud."
After an endless, series of apologies concerning the
length of the story, Max Steele agrees to read. As he
begins, it. becomes evident that he is really a bit nervous.
That he is not, as are so many authors, dramatic and
stylish and arrogant in the reading of his work. His speech
is flawed by earnest. Y .
The autobiographical dimension to his story, "The
Man in the Doll House." reveals itself in the first few
paragraphs when the setting, Chapel Hill, is established
The story itself brims with sensitivity. Its characters seem
uncompromisingly, painfully real.
And when , Steele reaches the final paragraph of his
story, when the conflict between father and son climaxes
in a bitter man's realization of the importance of
forgiveness, Steele's voice assumes a poignant edge.
The class is silent after the story's conclusion. Whether
Steele realizes that he has deeply touched students in the
class or not, he responds to the class's reticence in a
characteristically self-effacing manner. ' , .
"Thank you, " he says. "Thank you for putting up with
me." - : ;
Frank Bruni, a freshman English major from Avon,
Conn., is an editorial writer for The Daily Tar Heel.