Good evening, 919 Gang. Settle in, folks, we have a large selection
of fine reading tonight.
Last
night Carl Larsen mentioned that Jerry McCormick was interviewed on Channel 8 for his thoughts about the death
of super-star actor Chadwick Boseman, who died Friday of colon cancer at 43.
JERRY
McCORMICK
writes:
Hi Jack!
Thanks Carl!!
I'd like to share this essay I wrote on my
Facebook page about Chadwick Boseman.
I'm not sure a lot of ppl here remember or know
who I am, but I started at the U-T in 1999 and left in 2009.
Chadwick's death was shocking to me because as
a comic book fan it was a very tough blow.
I'm urging people to go get checked out because
as I'm learning, life is just a series of unpromised moments stacked together.
May he rest in peace.
********************************************************
Hurt. Devastated. Destroyed.
Those are a few of the emotions that I woke up
to after learning last night that Chadwick Boseman died suddenly at 43 years old.
The news hit me like a ton of bricks.
It occurred to me that 2020 is like a villain
stealing away our best and brightest.
I stayed up well into the night watching old
video clips of Boseman, trying to learn more about the man who not only became
a hero within the Black community but to all of the world as well.
I’m 52, but my 10-year-old self was weeping
inside.
This man meant a LOT to me, I just wasn’t fully
aware of it.
You see, I’ve believed in superheroes most of
my life.
In fact, I learned how to read by reading comic
books. I grew up poor in a small South Carolina town.
Life was dull for the most part there, but
those .10 books took me to alien worlds, to big cities and more.
The first book I bought with my own money was
Justice League 159 (Oct. 1978)
A few months later, I would see a live-action
superhero on the big screen with “Superman: The Movie” which came out in
December 1978.
That movie ignited my love of superheroes and
also planted the seeds of what would later become a 30-year journalism career.
(Thank you, Lois Lane.)
While I loved that film, I noticed there were
no people who looked like me other than a pimp and a couple of prostitutes who
appeared for one quick scene as Superman rushed to save the day.
Fast forward nearly 40 years, and I’m sitting
at a movie theater watching another movie which would change my life.
It was “Captain America: Civil War” and it was
the debut of Black Panther to the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Finally!!! There was someone who looked like me
and went toe-to-toe with Captain America!
Little did I know that Marvel was about to
introduce us to a whole new world.
When “Black Panther” the movie came out, I KNEW
I had to be present. I had no idea the cultural phenomenon it was about to
become.
Living in San Diego, you aren’t surrounded by
tons of Black people, but I remember going to the theater and seeing all of
these beautiful Black faces in the audience.
“Our” Superman had arrived.
With him he brought Wakanda. This beautiful
country which illustrated the possibilities of what life could have been in
Africa if it had been untouched by slave-holding hands.
Wakanda was a vision of hope and possibilities.
It was a land filled with beauty and science.
Wakanda was a land of peace and it was defended
by this all female fighting force called the Dora Milaje.
The movie also showed several strong women from
the Queen Mother to Suri, the country’s princess.
Not since “Coming to America” in 1988 had I
seen an African society portrayed this beautifully and richly.
And it was led by a king who was a superhero
who believed in love and family.
Boseman, like myself, was a native son of South
Carolina.
And a graduate of a historically black college
like me.
I knew he was a fine actor stepping into the
shoes of fellow South Carolina native James Brown in “Get on Up” or portraying
civil-rights icon Thurgood Marshall in “Marshall.”
I have to admit I was a bit taken aback when he
was announced for the role because he looked nothing like the real Thurgood
Marshall, but five minutes into the movie I forgot all about that and was
enraptured by the way Boseman brought this man to life.
And it’s not lost on me that he died on the day
baseball honored Jackie Robinson, another real-life person Boseman brought to
the silver screen.
Unlike comics, Boseman won’t be brought back to
life.
We had no idea, he was a superhero in real life
and was fighting for his life battling cancer.
In the end, that villain won and left a lot of
us with broken hearts.
Check on your Black friends today folks,
because we are HURT and this caps off a rough week for Black people in America.
As long as I live, I’ll embrace Boseman’s
legacy.
I’ll make sure I get checked for cancer and
encourage others to do so.
It’s the Wakandan way.
#WakandaForever
-------------------------------------------------------------------
CLARK
BROOKS
writes:
Halfway through the
year 2000, Jeanne and I decided to leave the U-T and move to South Carolina. We
had a grandson there, and another on the way.
I was the first to find a job, public
relations for the state Guardian ad Litem program, recruiting volunteers to
represent abused and neglected children in family court. I was assigned a desk
in the Spartanburg office and worked for the GAL coordinators in six Upstate
counties.
The coordinators, all
women, were short on people to handle growing caseloads. They were excited
about getting some publicity.
Carolyn, in Greenville
County, explained the challenge of helping every child without overloading her
volunteers. She put in 10 to 12 hours a day, including the cases she handled
herself.
Volunteers received 30
hours of training. The coordinators scheduled group sessions for people who
expressed interest, and tried to get the word out to enroll more. Carolyn
recommended some newspapers and magazines I might contact. Anything I could do
would help, she said.
But it wasn’t until I rose to leave,
and she looked up to tell me one last thing, that I began to get a measure of
the stuff inside the GAL coordinators.
“My dream is to have a
billboard.”
She was serious, this
single mother of three making $33,000 a year. What she needed was a winning
lottery ticket. What she wanted was a billboard to make life better for
children she was in a unique position to help. My unspoken goal had been to
deliver her a 15-inch newspaper story, with art.
Most of the billboards in Greenville
and Spartanburg had “Fairway” at the bottom. I drove to the company
headquarters, no appointment, and made a pitch. There’s an undeniable power in
representing abused kids.
Fairway Outdoor Advertising donated
two billboards, one for Greenville, and one for Spartanburg. I wanted to tell
Carolyn in person. She came out of her chair screaming.
The Greenville News sent a photographer to
the unveiling before the billboards were put into frames on busy roads. The
graphics were superior. A gigantic headline read, “Speak up for a Child!”
The billboards would
remain in place for one year. The value of this gift exceeded $50,000.
Next, I went about getting press
coverage for the smaller counties. More than a few weeklies were scattered throughout
the Upstate. Staffing was such that it was a struggle to fill the pages. So
rather than pitch stories, I wrote them. It was a simple matter of profiling a
local volunteer.
Jeanne got a job at Clemson
University, and moved out to join me. She became part of a group who
coordinated interviews with professors, and generally promoted the school. That
didn’t last long. She had worked for The Greenville News before The
Tribune. The editors wanted her as their city columnist. She waffled. They
insisted.
We bought a house in Greenville, and I
moved into the Greenville GAL office. I had been on the job two years when the
PR funding dried up. They kept me on, helping out in the Greenville office. But
I couldn’t contribute as much, nor get the same kick out of it.
I wasn’t going to find another PR job
like that. The Greenville News had an opening for an assistant city
editor. I dropped off a resume, and the executive editor called. I knew that he
had recently chosen a candidate, but couldn’t meet her salary demand.
At the end of the interview, he said,
“What are your salary appetites?” He sort of exhaled it out. I had been making
$28,000 in PR. Naturally, a newspaper would offer at least twice that. I told
him I didn’t think salary would be a problem.
The assistant city editor job was
everything I thought it would be. After several years with no professional
highlights, I volunteered when the weekend editor job came open.
I worked solo on
Saturday, and had a reporter on Sunday. I also worked three days during the
week, editing stories and sending them to the copy desk. With holes to fill
most weekends, I learned why editors like weather stories, even when you have
to write them yourself.
Layoffs began, and I volunteered to go
part-time. Weekends only. I was thinking 20 hours a week. I also offered my
Sunday reporter to help with a shortage during the week created by the latest
Gannett restructuring.
The executive editor, an excellent
newsman and the undisputed boss of the newsroom, liked the idea. He scheduled
me for 30 hours a week so I would qualify for health insurance.
Occasionally he asked
me to do stories during the week, such as when Sarah Palin came to Columbia to
endorse Nikki Haley in the GOP primary race for governor. At the time, Haley
was polling fourth in a field of four.
Otherwise, I set my own schedule,
including monitoring things from home. The boss said that going forward, I
would answer only to him.
I went in on Friday
afternoons to set up. The Metro editor, who benefitted from my ability to fill
news holes, liked the new arrangement. But the city editor, who worked the late
shift, didn’t seem to. He kept trying to send me out to check on things he
heard over the police radio. “Can’t, I’m setting up,” seemed to irritate him. But
not as much as, “I answer only to the boss.”
So I stopped working on Friday. It
wasn’t necessary. Jeanne and I lived a mile from the office. I went in around 3
a.m. Saturday and Sunday--an old man waking up naturally--and wrote up the
late-night fatal car wrecks and homicides. We had those online before the TV
news. Then I’d set up.
Five really good years passed before
the boss retired. Pretty soon, I did, too. You can’t answer to a retired guy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
CHUCK
BOYD
writes:
I pitched Kansas City for the 1980 GOP
convention. It was there in 1976 and we wanted a repeat!
Flying
on Aer Lingus recently, I was reminded of the time I held the microphone and
talked to a planeload of startled passengers.
When
a Convention Bureau goes after a group to come to their city, it tries to show
ingenuity whenever possible. Off the wall works too.
So the Committee to
select where the 1980 Republican
National Convention would be held came aboard the plane in Dallas, after
several days of being wined and dined by Texans who wanted the convention.
I
was with the Kansas City Convention Bureau and we wanted the GOP back again
after they had met successfully in KC in 1976. (Remember the Ford/Dole ticket? Jimmy Carter creamed
them.)
As
long as the group was in Texas, we held back from tooting our horn. It would
have been bad form to intrude or interfere there. But, as soon as the plane
buttoned up, they were subject to our message and it began immediately.
There were straw
"skimmer" hats placed on each seat with a red, white, and blue
hatband and the GOP elephant featured very prominently...right next to the KC,
MO 1980 logo. Colorful bunting was draped around the cabin as well and
KC/GOP campaign-type buttons were being passed around.
I
clicked on the microphone and introduced myself as being with the Kansas City
Convention Bureau and asked everyone to welcome the members of the GOP
Selection Committee who were on board in their midst. Some applauded.
To
our knowledge, this kind of airborne pitch had never been done before.
I quickly added that
since we all were headed up to Missouri, we had arranged to have the inflight
meal changed to a Kansas City Strip
steak with all the trimmings.
Then "Going to Kansas City...."
music started playing.
Later,
of course, Detroit won the 1980 convention and a fellow named Ronald Reagan became President.
(I
borrowed the steak picture from the internet and, truth be told, the airline
served its regular steak. We just called it a KC strip.)
DAVID
HASEMYER
writes:
My T-shirt
drawer coughed up these two relics. One from the 1996 Republican convention is commemorating
The Party and the second is particular to the Trib’s 1988 election team.
------------------------------------------------------------------
CARL LARSEN writes: Condolences go to former U-T reporter Caroline
Dipping, whose mother, Valerie Lemke, died on Aug. 27 at age 84 after a long
illness.
Valerie
was a seasoned PR professional with the city’s oldest agency, Nuffer, Smith
Tucker, where she served as vice president and as a consultant for many years.
She
also was a frequent contributor to the U-T’s Home/Homescape and Food sections
and was a longtime member of the San Diego Press Club.
One
of her more memorable stories was “The Hottest Market,” about selling real
estate in Borrego Springs in August, when the temperature climbs to 115.
She
had a passion for the desert where she was a part-time resident for 25 years
and served as president of the Anza-Borrego Desert Natural History Association.
Journalism
runs in the family: Valerie’s father piloted a plane between airports in the
county for his “Hangar Gossip” show on KFSD radio.
And
Valerie and Caroline both were editors of the newspaper at San Diego High,
where 919’s Susan Gembrowski was Caroline’s faculty advisor. Caroline also
worked for the LA Times’ San Diego edition.
https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/sandiegouniontribune/obituary.aspx?n=valerie-r-lemke&pid=196719335
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PAMELA
DUGAN
borrows David Farmer’s hat:
A contributor to today’s 919 Gang post
used an adjective I’ve heard or read a lot lately: “AP had a fulsome story...” The context indicates he meant abundant
or fully developed. But will others define it the same way?
Webster’s
New World College Dictionary, Fifth Edition:
Disgusting or offensive,
esp. excessive or insincere.
The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language,
Fifth Edition:
Excessively flattering or insincerely earnest.
Disgusting or offensive.
Copious or abundant (usage problems).
YourDictionary:
Abundant or bountiful, or praise that is heaped
on to the point of being excessive.
English
Wiktionary:
Offensive to good taste, tactless, overzealous,
excessive.
Excessively flattering (connoting insincerity).
Abundant, copious.
Fully developed, mature.
Wiktionary notes: “The meaning has evolved from an original positive
connotation abundant to a neutral plump to a negative overfed.
In modern usage it can take on any of these inflections.” And the American
Heritage usage note points out that in its 2012 survey, only 19% of its usage
panel “accepted the use of fulsome
as
a synonym of full”
and
just 21% accepted its “copious or expansive” meaning.
Usage gurus Theodore
Bernstein and John Bremner agreed that it doesn’t mean full or abundant.
And the AP Stylebook puts it this way: Fulsome “means disgustingly excessive.
Do not use it to mean lavish or profuse.”
So...style or no, do we want
to use a word with such divergent meanings? Context helps, of course, but if
the reader or listener has to pause to figure out what we really mean, then we
have put speed bumps on the road of communication.
I’ll now
retreat to my cave.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
REBER: As August
ends, we wish Doug Hope, a man I admire a lot, a Happy Birthday on Aug. 31.
Jack J. Reber
P.O.
Box 2239
Ramona,
CA 92065-0938
United
States
