Newspapers / Daily Tar Heel (Chapel … / Feb. 19, 1982, edition 1 / Page 6
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6rrhe Daily Tar HeelFriday, February 19, 1982 Jim Hummm. :.. Si NAN MAUNEY. Uiiuynx Mm (iKl I RF:Y MtXIK. .Usi,u,- Mihv BH II BURRFLL. Assmuw Uiw Edwin a Ralston. vmwnityVJiM RACHF.L PERRY. City Mil Charles Herndon. AuMnJNjn'iwcJiw Clifton Barnes. eJiw Leah Talley. i Jif.r Keith King. Fwturw EAwr SCX)TT SHARPE. Photography Editor Ann Peters. Swr-Af eJiv ClUJCK JAMES. Ombudsman Satlu Olar MppI 89th year of editorial freedom Changing of the guard Today marks the annual changing of the guard at The Daily Tar Heel, and for a group of seniors that has devoted thousands of hours to the production of this newspaper it is time to end a special part of our lives and move on. We leave with the deep satisfaction of having played a part in publishing a college newspaper with a long and respected tradition. During the past 90 years, the Tar Heel has been an integral part of UNC, and anyone who has worked at the DTH quickly appreciates the sense of devotion that so many people have for this paper. At the same time we depart with a sad, somewhat nervous feeling, knowing that many of the things we have been able to do here have been once-in-a-lifetime experiences. As we leave the paper, we also leave behind a part of us that will never be recaptured. Editors here come and go, but the spirit and purpose of the DTH re mains the same. And often with the pressures of trying to meet deadlines and fill a newspaper without flunking out of school, many of us have wondered why we would be insane enough to make so many sacrifices all to produce copy that quickly yellows and fades from the average reader's memory. This is the time of year, however, that the TarHeePs tradition becomes terribly important to editors who relinquish their positions somewhat reluctantly to a new crop of talent that brings with it energy and ex citement to serve as a breath of fresh air for the coming year. Today Susan Mauney, Edwina Ralston, Charlie Herndon, John Royster, Beth Burrell, Geoff Mock, Clifton Barnes, Scott Sharpe, Nor man Cannada, Leah Talley, David Jarrett and Chuck James leave their editorial positions. They join Mark Murrell, Jonathan Rich, Tom Moore and Donna Whitaker, all of whom have left the paper already. Unfortunately, the DTH editor often is the only person visible to the majority of students on campus, by the nature of his position as an elected official. He is the one who is invited to the banquets, serves as an ex-officio member of every conceivable board and is first in line to receive praise or criticism, regardless of whether he has had direct contact with a given story. But the editors listed above and the staff writers, advertising represen tatives, composition crew and printers serve as the heart and soul of this newspaper. Long after the glamour of seeing your name in print wears off, they are the ones who have put the DTH before all else. Over the past 12 months editors have seen their love and respect for each, other and this newspaper grow, as we have sweated through writing on deadline, struggled to decide editorial policy and coped with the tensions that plague every family. In many ways we have tried to give this campus the best possible news paper and stimulate students' thinking, something that is vital in any academic community. At times we have fallen short, at other times we have been able to expose and comment on things that make a real dif ference to every person at this University. Because the DTH is such a big part of our lives it is hard to accept that we soon will become distant from something that has been so close to our hearts. As we leave, though, we know that the DTHt under John Drescher and his staff, is in good hands. Like the hundreds of people who have come before them, they know the joy and responsibility associated with being an editor at the DTH. Over the next several weeks you will probably see people wandering around campus with glazed looks on their faces wondering what to do with the enormous amount of time that has just been given to them. Chances are it will be a group of former DTH editors, who have had two free afternoons in the last four years. But in that period of time, they have learned about themselves, as well as how a newspaper works and the tradition that is attached to it. This talk about tradition may seem strange for people who are not familiar with the inner workings of the DTH. But for the outgoing seniors it has served as a signal and a reminder that we were here to publish the best paper we could and to maintain the editorial freedom and re sponsibility that The Daily Tar Heel has enjoyed since 1893. It is a tradi tion that we are proud to have been a part of. (D) hit y ai later By JIM HUMMEL "Excuse me, I came to see about joining The Daily Tar Heel staff, " the timid redheaded freshmen said to the secretary, almost expecting her to break into gales of laughter. "Wait a minute, let me answer the phone, then I'll be with you, " she said, trying to act friendly while doing, five things at once. "Maybe I can come back later, the freshman said, as he looked into the of fice and saw two staff members engaged in a heated discussion. "No, stay here just a minute and I'll introduce you to our state and national editor, David Stacks, " she replied. I had heard horror stories about The Daily Tar Heel stories about how you could never get a job unless you had an inside track and could pull strings with someone on the staff. I looked about 12 years old, was mildly interested in jour nalism, but wasn't sure whether I could handle working for a large college news paper while trying to adjust to living 700 miles from home. I didn't know a single person and was undergoing something of a culture shock. "What did you do for your high school newspaper?" asked Stacks, wanting to see some of my work. "My high school didn 7 have a news paper, " I said, wishing I could slink quietly out of the office and back to Massachusetts without anyone noticing. That was three and a half years ago, the first day of my freshman year. To day is the last day at the DTH for me and a number of other seniors who, come Monday, will begin wandering around trying to figure out where the last four years of our lives have gone. And as many of us look back, we realize that much of that time, for better or for worse, has been spent at the DTH. With the exception of a three- month leave of absence to run for editor last year, I have spent every day of my college career at the DTH. At first it was a nominal commit ment: covering speeches and rewriting press releases. Gradually I began to spend more time at the office, partly be cause I worked my way into more time consuming editorial positions and partly because I was sucked in by the magic that touches almost every person who has ever worked for this newspaper. I was excited to be on the cutting edge of the news to learn about events be fore the majority of students on campus did. Being a reporter allowed me to talk with a variety of people and served as a good outlet for developing my writing style. But I also quickly learned about the drawbacks of working for a nationally respected college newspaper with a cir culation of 20,000. I was open to criti cism every time my byline went on a story, and I was expected to put the DTH before many other things, in cluding academic and a social life. A student newspaper trying to compete in a professional world. By the middle of my sophomore year my parents and friends knew they had a better chance of reaching me down here than at the dorm. And I could really tell the person with the American Heart Association that I gave at the office. Looking back over four years, I rea lize that I have learned about almost every major event either at the DTH of-, fice or from a fellow staff member. "Hey, Jim, take a look at this, " and editor said one day my freshman year, pointing to a story that had just come over the Associated Press wire machine. "They had a spill at some nuclear plant up in Pennsylvania, but it doesn 7 look like it's really that big a deal. " Little could either of us at the time have known the consequences that the Life at the 'DTH' of ten a paradoxical experience accident at Three Mile Island would have in the coming months. There were other big events: The same day five Communist Workers Party members were shot in Greensboro in November 1979, Iranian students were taking over the American embassy in Tehran. Who could have predicted the the ordeal would drag on and dominate much of the news during my year as state and na tional editor? I also began to see the paradox of working for a newspaper like the DTH. Being a jounalist has allowed me to talk to everyone from Jesse Helms and Billy Graham to Ted Kennedy and George McGovern. At the same time it has limited my perspective, just by the fact -that I've spent so much time with peo ple who, more or less, view the world from a common point of view. Hang around a newspaper and find out how cynical you can become. As state and national editor it was my responsibility to go through the AP wire copy every day, reading stories dealing with everything from the N.C. General Assembly to peace in the Middle East. As I continually - read about train wrecks, mass murders and crime rates, I quickly became desensitized to what was happening. They were merely stories on a piece of paper with a news value: should it go on the front page or on the inside? There was an ongoing joke in the of fice about Yugoslavian President Josip Tito. In the spring of 1980 the European leader was close to death, with his con dition changing from "grave", to "very grave" to "almost in the grave." For about a month I used to have strange nightmares that we labeled "The Tito dreams." The editors at the time also had bets about when he would die; we all had this fear that he would die either right after we went out of publication for the semester, or just as the last paper was going to press, forcing us to rear range the front page. Callous? Maybe or maybe just a way to deal with much of the bad news that we had to face every day. The next fall I was responsible for su pervising the coverage of the 1980 state and presidential elections. That fall was U i. TPN ,V ' j V f ITS ri irm n wiir n in 1 1 m.Mn.i-wnnimMi nwj. - - r , mmr "'Sy;y- fni-nvi - - - r --r - Election Day, 1SS0 w'Vvw" - , I j s .v.yrw .v.v.-.:-:.v v & . ; g- :owiiCtitOlnii nmn' inmrffnmiin 'I ill I f"- one of the highlights of my time at the DTH. "Who do you think is going to get it, Carter or Reagan?" a fellow editor ask ed me right before Election Day. "I think Reagan might pull it out, " I said, confirming what she probably thought anyway. "What if he wins?" I asked. , "I've got my plane ticket for Toronto purchased, "she said, half jokingly, half seriously. I took over as editor of the DTH just after Ronald Reagan was inaugurated 40th president of the United States. After the president began to unveil his new economic program, I used to wan der through the office, occasionally muttering in a very sarcastic tone that Reagan should be shot. The afternoon of March 30 it actually happened. Like every other person at UNC I woke up that morning excited about the basketball team's game that night with Indiana for the national championship. As I walked into the office I got a strange feeling that something had hap pened. It didn't take long to find out what, and I quickly felt a pain in my stomach a feeling I hadn't had for years. i:v.x-y wdMoxttM smut lywoit vm -tmtm mmm VA : SnVh & Ji v 7 spa 4 i fit J Hi ' ' t s 4 ro .. 5 V 7f i XX,. K '.tit '' 'W.lVW.V 'V '..Vi-.'.' C'; . .. v.. .r X -nrV - yrS 4 '-l 1 r -r 4 V v. v' v y. , "-"- S8f 4 y sx , 1 y As- But I didn't have much time to sit around and think about what had hap pened. I had to detach myself from the situation and decide whether to give big ger play to the UNC game, in the event of a victory, or the attempted assassina tion on the president. Here a man was lying in a hospital with a bullet in his chest, and I was concerned about a bas ketball game. Fortunately, we never had to make the decision about story place ment it was made for us that night in Philadelphia. I often wonder what I would have done if UNC had won. The stories go on and on, but as we have sat around the office this week, re miniscing about our experiences at the paper both good and bad I realize just how much I've grown up in the last four years. The timid redheaded freshman who almost couldn't force himself to walk in the front door of the DTH and apply for a job is now the cocky and often cynical senior who doesn't hesitate to express his opinion on any issue. But it is also becoming clear what a joy and privilege it has been to work for this newspaper. Sure, I've become more cy nical, too much at times, but in the pro cess of gathering information for the hundreds of stories and editorials I have written, I have been forced to think and care about what happens in this world. My perspective has been nar rowed in some ways and broadened in others. Someone asked me last week whether I had regretted spending so much time at the DTH, doing what he saw as, more or less, one thing over the past four years. Sure, I said, there were tunes I had much rather been watching a ball game or a movie than writing a story. But I wouldn't have traded my time at the Tar Heel for anything in the world Working for a newspaper offers op portunities that few other people will ever get. Whereas 90 percent of the work "force in Ameria knows what it will do at work the next day, a journa list often doesn't know until he steps in the door of the office what will be in store for him. I often take that for granted. In a profession that has been criti cized for sensationalism and emphasis on the bad rather than the good, it is hard sometimes to maintain a balanced perspective. But working at the Tar S Heel, for all of us, has been a learning 8 experience, and regardless of what story 8 we've written or position we ve taken, we've been forced to think. And in a o world where apathy is the rule rather I than the exception, I think that's what a it's all about. at 8 z o Jim Hummel, a senior journalism and political science major from Grafton, Mass., is editor of The Daily Tar Heel Kian shooting In Greensboro; Nov. 1979 Why the liberals fabricated a movement By GEOFFREY MOCK The Democratic Party had a lot of explaining to do after the 1980 elections. Not only had it lost the White House to the Republicans, but in a matter of four years it had blown a two-to-one majority in the Senate. By any possible standard the 1980 elec tions were a major defeat for the Democrats. But behind every political defeat lies political failure. The pressure is overwhelming not to accept this failure, but to blame it on some external force. Thus, the defeated liberals, to explain gross poli tical mistakes and to serve as a rallying point around which to regroup, created the movement of the New Right. The justification for the fabrication of a New Right movement comes from the defeat of several liberal incumbents in recent elections and the pres sure from elected officials for broad social legisla tion to correct a perceived moral decay in this na tion. These claims are indisputable. But the origins of the popular anger against the defeated liberals lies not in the stirrings of conservative evangelists, but in the liberals' inability to listen to the legi timate social needs of a broad range of Americans. There is supreme irony in this. Thousands of Americans are expressing through politics discon tent with their lives and their desire for the govern ment to intervene and solve their problems. Liberals, who never give a second thought to government intervention in the economic sphere, have completely abandoned this bloc of Ameri cans. Nevertheless, the fear of a person for the type of world he lives in is worthy of the same poli tical attention given his economic woes. People who burn books, cling to pathetic reli gious superstitions and migrate to crank authori tarian figures do not receive a good image in con temporary society, and deservedly so. But too often liberals stereotype these people and overlook the real frustrations that drive them to such poli tical behavior. When these people look for politi cal aid, the liberals give them ridicule. The result is that they have no choice but to turn to conserva tive leaders who cynically exploit them. People who burn books, cling to pathetic religious superstitions and migrate to crank authoritarian figures do not receive a good image in contemporary society. But too often liberals stereotype these peo ple and overlook the real frustrations that drive them to such political behavior. "It was the social issues that got us this far," conservative fund-raiser Richard Viguerie said. "We talked about the sanctity of free enterprise, about the communist onslaught until we were blue in the face. But we didn't start winning majorities in elections until we got down to the gut-level issues." Out of this liberal stereotype has come the New Right movement. Perplexed beyond belief at why these Americans are acting so "irrationally," liberals have blindly lumped them together, as suming there are few differences among them. In fact, there is little homogeneity about the New Right. The only thing they have in common is a vented rage against, the world around them. Beyond that the similarity ends. The family from South Dakota that comes to Washington to thank Jesse Helms for his abortion stand is different from the Arkansas father who wants his child to learn the Genesis version of the creation of man. Instead of talking about a New Right move ment, it would be better to emphasize the slightly increased importance of social issues as a general trend. Within that trend there are many distinct issues that require different solutions. At a dis tance these voices seem to call in harmony for con servative governmental action, but up close that unity is destroyed by the variety of interests. Theodore Adomo called these people the "pseudo conservatives." Perhaps it is more apt to say they are part of a pseudo-movement. v But even with these qualifications, it must be ad ded that the ability of these people to influence elections is minimal. They are by and large political amateurs, but to hear the defeated liberals speak of them you would think they were political geniuses. But the liberals' exaggerated claims of radical-right influence only served to play into the hands of radical leaders, who likewise have over stated their importance. . But while both liberals and radical conservatives credited the radicals with being a decisive factor'in recent elections, the victorious conservative poli ticians are not so sure. If anything, radical support hurt these, politicians by creating a popular back lash against the radicals' tactics. In South Dakota, James Abdnor asked the Federal Elections Commission to stop the National Conservative Political Action Committee from us ing his name in his race against Democratic Sen. George McGovern. In Indiana, Republican Dan Quayle said radical support hindered his successful race against Sen. Birch Bayh. And in Idaho, an aide to Steven Symms said NCPAC's support almost damaged Symms' victory over Sen. Frank Church. "I think, if anything, groups such as NCPAC probably hindered Steve Symms," Bill Fay told Congressional Quarterly. "I think people got tired of trash." Post-election polls backed up Fay's claim. , . By creating the myth of the New Right, liberals have found a partial solution to their problem of organization and fund raising. By mobilizing support behind ex aggerated claims of a radical-right peril, liberals have been able to replenish their money coffers. . While Bayh, Church, McGovern and other liberals lost, some liberals facing serious conser vative opposition won by bigger margins than ever. In Maryland, Sen. Charles Mathias took 66 per cent of the vote, and in California Alan Cranston won with 59 percent of the vote. These landslide victories, plus the fart that more than half of the candidates endorsed by NCPAC lost, shows that any liberal candidate with genuine popular support can withstand any conservative opposition. The one area where the radical right has ex tended its influence recently is in fund-raising. But liberals don't talk much about this and with good reason they are to blame for it. Well intended but poorly thought out election reforms supported by liberals have had the effect of increasing the im portance of conservative political action commit tees while demolishing the Democratic Party as a fund-raiser. Campaign reforms restricted single-lump corp oration donations. This forced businesses to can vass money from management and employees for PACs, which turned out to be a more efficient means of political contributions. Meanwhile, liberal reform within the Democratic Party di minished the power of the unions and big-city machines, often a source of liberal campaign fi nances'. This in turn has forced liberals to turn to corporate PACs for contributions, making them more sensitive to conservative pressures. Liberals have made other errors. Again well intended reforms to "broaden the party" have weakened the role of the professional politician in the Democratic Party. It is as if liberals have aban doned the Democratic Party as an organizational unit, and into this vacuum conservatives have in creased their strength. Republicans always out spend Democrats, but the gap between party cone tributions in 1980 was unprecedented. The Republican Party gave Paul Gann $521,755 in his unsuccessful challenge to Sen. Alan Cranston. The most given a Democratic congressional candidate from his party was $39,940 to Pete Flaherty run ning for the U.S. Senate from Pennsylvania. By creating the myth of the New Right, liberals have found a partial solution to their problem of organization and fundraising. By mobilizing sup port behind exaggerated claims of a radical-right peril, liberals have been able to replenish their money coffers. They have successfully imitated the direct mail fund-raising tactics of Viguerie and other conservatives. The failure of liberalism has come not from subversive politics from the radical right, but from the liberals themselves. They can pass off their failures as resulting from unfair tactics of the" radical right, but such a simplistic view will only worsen their failures. " Geoffrey Mock, a senior political science major from Baltimore, h assocfo - editor of The Daily Tar Heel.
Daily Tar Heel (Chapel Hill, N.C.)
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Feb. 19, 1982, edition 1
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