Sad news from Stanford yesterday that journalist and professor Bill Woo has died, at age 69. Bill and I were colleagues from 2002-2005, jointly serving as Lokey Visiting Professors teaching undergraduate and graduate journalism courses. When I arrived, Bill had already been there six years or so, and he took me under his wing.
He was unfailingly gracious and generous with his time and knowledge, helping me create course guides and learn the curriculum. We worked together closely over nine quarters; in the process we were able to establish an active website, The Cardinal Inquirer, for students to post articles to. Bill and I both also published columns there. His were invariably wise, witty and whimsical -- all at the same time.
The stereotyped journalist is hard-bitten, cynical, self-important. Bill exhibited none of those qualities. Although he had enjoyed a stellar career, and was held in high esteem by all who knew of him and his work, he was a man of unfailing modesty, integrity, and decency.
He loved teaching. He worked hard at it and he was good at it. Inside a classroom, he was one of the most thoughtful journalists a student could ever hope to meet. Outside of class, he spent hours and hours editing and grading and revising and cajoling better stories out of his students.
Many times he sauntered down the hall from his office to mine, a wry smile playing on his lips, and popped in for a chat. Sometimes he was upset, often about how a student was performing. As I listened to him worry that this student or that student was simply not performing up to their ability, and shared thoughts with him about how we might help them improve, it struck me again and again how much this man cared -- about the students and about our craft.
He cared not only in a way that made him a popular and respected teacher, but in a way that led him to always demand more of the young journalists studying with him. He knew that these are perilous times for all of us who believe in the highest standards of journalism. Many forces combine in the present era to undermine the ability of serious journalists to do great work. He held to the highest traditional standards of excellence, and expected the next generation to do so as well.
We have lost a fine and decent man who was a credit to the worlds of journalism and education. I hope Bill knew how many of us he inspired, and how much he will be missed. I count myself as among the lucky ones, for having known him, worked with him, and learned from him.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Living History, Memory and Forgetting
One line from my Salon story last December that continues to haunt me as much as when I wrote it is: "One thing about living in a society that regularly scrubs itself of its collective memory is we keep having to relearn the lessons of the past."
It is difficult to be a serious journalist in modern day America. There is a lot of media noise but not much signal. In fact, there is so much noise that people can (almost) be forgiven for not being able to keep track of which stories matter.
Almost forgiven, but not quite. We are surrounded by wealth, by possessions, by temptations to distract us. We virtually demand to be constantly entertained. Our political leaders carefully measure our attitudes and calibrate their messages accordingly. Our attitudes are shaped by legions of PR, advertising, and messaging experts.
In effect, we are surrounded by hustlers, all vying for our attention and our time. Maybe the reason we find panhandlers irritating is they are simply the visible reminders that everyone is after us, even though most of those demanding our money and attention slide well under our radar into our "lifestyle" choices.
As for history, journalism is supposedly the "first draft" of history. When it comes to the disaster that struck the Gulf Coast, the draft may be rough but the outline is clear. Race and class determine who loses. Poor people lose. Minorities lose. Amertica is not an egalitarian society where opportunity is equally free to all. It is a class society enthralled with the baseless myth of classlessness.
As most of us sit wherever we live and watch silently as the poor of Mississippi and Louisiana are displaced in the greedy aftermath of Katrina, while new casinos go up and developers create new recreational facilities and housing subdivisions for the wealthier residents, we are witnessing our country's living history. This is the worst natural disaster of our time, within our borders. It is the worst disaster period -- far more significant in every way than 9/11.
Yet we are as a society following in lockstep behind political leadership that has lied to us about what matters. You can see what actually matters with your own eyes. Go to Biloxi, or Waveland, or Bay St. Louis, or the Ninth Ward of New Orleans. But, then again, as Americans, with our short attention span, perhaps we instead think that was last year's story? Time now to move on, no? There must be something more entertaining on an other channel.
It is difficult to be a serious journalist in modern day America. There is a lot of media noise but not much signal. In fact, there is so much noise that people can (almost) be forgiven for not being able to keep track of which stories matter.
Almost forgiven, but not quite. We are surrounded by wealth, by possessions, by temptations to distract us. We virtually demand to be constantly entertained. Our political leaders carefully measure our attitudes and calibrate their messages accordingly. Our attitudes are shaped by legions of PR, advertising, and messaging experts.
In effect, we are surrounded by hustlers, all vying for our attention and our time. Maybe the reason we find panhandlers irritating is they are simply the visible reminders that everyone is after us, even though most of those demanding our money and attention slide well under our radar into our "lifestyle" choices.
As for history, journalism is supposedly the "first draft" of history. When it comes to the disaster that struck the Gulf Coast, the draft may be rough but the outline is clear. Race and class determine who loses. Poor people lose. Minorities lose. Amertica is not an egalitarian society where opportunity is equally free to all. It is a class society enthralled with the baseless myth of classlessness.
As most of us sit wherever we live and watch silently as the poor of Mississippi and Louisiana are displaced in the greedy aftermath of Katrina, while new casinos go up and developers create new recreational facilities and housing subdivisions for the wealthier residents, we are witnessing our country's living history. This is the worst natural disaster of our time, within our borders. It is the worst disaster period -- far more significant in every way than 9/11.
Yet we are as a society following in lockstep behind political leadership that has lied to us about what matters. You can see what actually matters with your own eyes. Go to Biloxi, or Waveland, or Bay St. Louis, or the Ninth Ward of New Orleans. But, then again, as Americans, with our short attention span, perhaps we instead think that was last year's story? Time now to move on, no? There must be something more entertaining on an other channel.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Tonight
I start with a hopeful mood. It's a warm night, for a change, in San Francisco. I should find out more details about what's happening in Biloxi and maybe I'll post something later on. I've heard from a few contacts down there recently. People are already worried about this year's hurricane season, now just a few months away.
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