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Norma Roberts: Thoughts from a proud Pawnee

November is Native American Heritage Month, a time I celebrate on this blog with something special. This year, I’m sharing some correspondence from Norma Roberts, a proud Pawnee who for years was the R.N. on duty at Fort Worth’s legendary Stock Show. Norma’s retired now and as sharp as ever. Highly intelligent, kind and perceptive.

There's a great picture of Norma on her Facebook page.

I first heard from Norma several years ago while I was the Fort Worth Star-Telegram’s ombudsman. She contacted me after reading a column I’d written that was focused on a Native American issue. She treasures her Native heritage. She mentioned that as a little girl she’d been a student at the Pawnee Indian School in Oklahoma where children were not allowed to speak their language and were not treated with the dignity they deserved. She didn’t go into detail, but Norma’s mention of her experience touched me deeply and has continued to do so. Here’s another alum’s personal memories of the place and some photos. 

If there was a biography of Norma, I’d buy it in a second. It would trace her exceptional life on an Oklahoma farm and in the Pawnee school before she went on to graduate from TCU’s vaunted nursing program and pursue a medical career. Took a lot of courage and spiritual strength. Many people and many important leaders know Norma and respect her.

When Norma e-mailed me last August, I was on a road trip conducting some research for what I hope will be a book about my mother, the late songwriter Jewell House of Texarkana, Texas. My Cherokee blood comes from my mother and her mother, the late Minnie Mae Treece Hancock who was born and reared on Sand Mountain in Jackson County, Ala., and on back. My paternal grandfather, Roy House, was Indian as well, but he was killed in El Paso in 1925, and never shared any information with the family about his heritage, which was a very common practice rooted in fear of vicious prejudices that were and continue to be deeply rooted in white culture. I don't know his Nation. Maybe he was Cherokee, too. Looks to be. Just not sure. There's a picture of him on my Facebook page.

So there in August I got an email from Norma, which led to a few more, which rekindled my interest in Norma’s story. Over the months, as we’ve had time we’ve exchanged some thoughts. I’ve kept them, hoping to post them to mark Native American Heritage Month. Here, with Norma’s permission, are Norma's e-mails virtually unedited so as to keep that good sense of Norma that one gets from reading her correspondence. They stir compelling thoughts to help keep Native American Heritage Month going long after November's behind us.

Aug. 14

David, if you've checked the INDIAN NEWS I mentioned, there is an article about a young Navajo Indian, JACOBY ELLSBURY, baseball player, noted as a CANDIDATE for A.L.MVP.! It mentions he's from the Colorado Indian Reservation; I had worked on that reservation in the USPHS Indian Hosp.! It's about time our young Indians are being recognized. Not since JIM THORPE, has anyone been mentioned; I had gone to the Indian School in Pawnee with some of the Thorpe boys.!! I'll be checking on Jacoby's career.
Also THANK YOU for the prayers, I appreciate that and likewise to you and family. ( : ) ++

I knew about Sam Bradford, just failed to mention him. There was another Indian Q.B. Sonny Six Killer played Pro, but don't recall for what team. I do try to keep up with the different athletes. My father
taught me a lot about sports when I was a teenager. I was the oldest of us 4 girls; no boys at home. I like to think I was his favorite; he always called me by my Indian name.
The Indian school was not a great place to be, but my parents sent my younger sister and me there when my Father joined the Army and my mother went to work in the Defense Plant in Okla. City. I think they thought we would be well taken care of/go to school. WRONG.!
I consider you Indian, David, so don't dwell on the "mixed blood" thing. I'm also proud of our Indian men.....I've never heard of any of them refusing to enlist or burning their draft card. If it happened I never knew it.
Not sure if I ever told you, both my Grandfathers were chiefs in our tribe. Lot of info about them.
I'm just rambling on, but I like people to know about my heritage.
Later.....CHUTUKSEWAH. we don't have an alphabet, so we try to write what we hear*****That's my Pawnee name

August 15

I sometimes write when I've thought of something.

My Grandfather, Wm. Mathews, was the Medicine Man/Doctor in the tribe. When he performed some healing on a person and the family could not pay monetarily, they would pay him with horses, cattle, other livestock. That's how he/family built up the farm/ranch. He was my mother's father; she did tell us SOME things that he did. His Pawnee name was translated as BUFFALO CHIEF.He died when I was 18 mos. old, so I don't remember him. Don't know why my mother wouldn't tell us more. However, she did tell us that when he was called to perform the healing on a person, it was quite unique. He always danced in the circle while the men sang his special religous song; he took on the image of a horse. No one else could do that and when he finished his dance, the Tribe always remarked, "OK, it's finished." Then people could talk again and leave the ceremony. I do remember my Grandmother (his wife ) telling us he put a SACRED BUNDLE in the upstairs of the house. We were not to bother it or untie the blanket around it, it was placed on a Buffalo robe on a trunk filled with some of his personal things. I would have liked to see him perform his special dance. It was called appropiately THE DOCTOR DANCE. He never spoke English and mother told us he would speak Pawnee to all the animals and they seemed to understand and obey him. He was from the Kitkehauke and Chaui bands. Our tribe is or was divided into 4 bands: Kitkehauke, Chaui, Pitahaurerat and Skidi.

NOW, comes my paternal Grandfather, Rush Roberts, Sr. he was the principal chief of the tribe until his passing at the age of 99! He comes from the north and was an orphan at the age of 15 or 16. He survived the Sioux massacre by grabbing onto a horse running by and made himself lay straight against the horse. The U.S. govt. intervened and transported the remainder of the tribe to Nebraska. I'm sure you've heard stories about Indians dying of cholera and other diseases. The tribe lost a lot of the people and once again the Sioux traveled to Nebraska & killed a lot of my tribe. So the govt. sent the remainder to Oklahoma on the reservation. I guess the Sioux decided not to go there.

A short time after the tribe was settled, the U.S. Army went to Pawnee to recruit for scouts to go up north to fight the Sioux. My Grandfather's aunt/uncle persuaded him to enlist, though he was the youngest scout. The Pawnee were long-distance runners and great scouts. They helped to capture some of the Sioux chiefs. Grandfather was the youngest scout and lived to be the oldest. When he died, a lot of the Sioux came for his funeral. They told the family they had a lot of respect for him and wanted to be there. Grandpa was Skidi and some elders who have long passed away said our tribe was closely related to the Arikara tribe up north; they were able to speak/understand each other whereas no other tribe could. My Grandfather's Pawnee name: LATAH-COTS-KAH-LAHARA was known as FANCY EAGLE, CHIEF OF THE GRAND PAWNEE. He was also the only tribesman to give someone a Pawnee Indian name. He gave me mine***CHIEF'S DAUGHTER.

The Skidi band of the Pawnee are considered the Top/Superior-more sophisticated of the 4 bands.!!! I was given the choice of which band I wanted when I was a teen-ager and I chose the Skidi. Riled my mother throughout the yrs.!! My father and I would tease her and she didn"t like that!! there were times when my parents were speaking in Pawnee, my father would say a word or phrase my mother didn't understand and he would have to explain to her. Must have been a hold-over from the Arikara side.

I do have one regret among many: Every morning, my father would go outside, facing towards the east and sing Pawnee songs. I never thought to record him. He had a great voice. Another regret, I could speak Pawnee and Wichita at a young age and when I went to the Indian school, we were not allowed to speak our native tongue, so I lost all that. If we ever got caught by the Matrons at the school, we were severely punished. I sometimes remember words or phrases, have forgotten how to carry on a conversation.

Incidentally, the Indian news report that an Oglala Sioux youngster shot some police this afternoon. Apparently, he was drinking!

More later....

August 15

Did I ever mention the govt. issued the names to the Indians because they could not pronounce or spell their Indian names.? My father was named after his father/my grandfather. His name was Rush Roberts, Jr., Pawnee name was GOOD HAWK. I don't know how to pronounce his Pawnee name. He was an hereditary chief of the Tuhitspiat clan of the Skidi Band of the Pawnee. He died in Fort Worth, All Saints Hospital, Dec.4,1975. He always wanted me in the hosp. room with him so he could call me; he would call CHUTUKS.

I stayed with him night/day. He helped me go to TCU-HARRIS COLLEGE OF NURSNG and I was so greatful. When he sensed he was dying, he spoke to us individually. Most of the Oklahoma relatives came to say their good-byes. When he started talking to me, I started crying so hard, almost made myself sick. He told me not to cry but to help take care of my mother and sisters. He went very peacefully; I was a complete Basket Case. There was a very nice writeup in the Star-Telegram. A lot of people came to pay respects; lot of them we didn't know. He was dressed in his full Pawnee clothes for his trip back home. He was at Harveson-Cole. My mother's brother came from Anadarko to dress him. We always dress our own family; don't know if other tribes do that. One of our traditions is the deceased will wear moccasins.
Just a little " history info " for you.
Later....

August 16

My computer CRASHED last eve., after my last msg. to you. I managed by myself to re-start it and I know absolutley zilch about these monsters!

August 18

If you ever have time to ck your computer, you might like to read up on the Pawnee tribe history, etc. Go to Pawnenation.org. I've been reading/learning about my own people!! The Skidi are called the Wolf band. I signed up on Twitter and tried to add your name/email address......

August 18

Sorry, just noticed I didn't spell Pawneenation correctly

August 18

This fact /info is true and I hope you'll remember it always***the Pawnee were noted to be the most cunning,famous HORSE THIEVES known all over. They could take a horse from a sleeping person without making a sound; the horses would co-operate and not make a sound either.!!!!

August 20

If you ever check your msgs., I have another Indian story to e-mail about the Crow Indians in Montana. We are supposedly distant related via Grandfather Fancy Eagle, then there are the Arikarah tribe I told you about being closer relatives. I guess the Crow nation helped at Little Big Horn and got the best of old Custer.!! The celebration is 5 days/5nights, if you can pull up the info on the Crow Celebration, it displays how the tribe sets up their Teepees; it's very elaborate. CK. IT OUT.! When the dances are completed for the yr.,they take down their Teepees and throw all their poles away. They never keep them to use again; it's always new poles for the next time.

Later ( : + )

November 20

David, I'm so glad to hear from you, I couldn't imagine what happened with you; and I'm certainly sorry to hear about your (illness). ... My nurse background and training sometimes take over. I hope I never lose that.

The Crow celebration is usually in August before the harsh winter sets it, since the reservation is so close to Canada. That wind comes with vengeance.!!! The tribe usually starts preparing for the winter right after the celebration. It's referred to as " The Crow Fair."

The Pawnee would always build their Living Quarters on the side of a high hill, and is known as an EARTH LODGE. They built them so large that their horses/livestock lived in there, too, with several families. They took great care of their horses. That's just a small info for you!!

I kinda got off the subject when you asked about the Indian School & I told you other things.
About the Indian School, I remember 2 things that could have been a tragedy for me. I contracted measles with 2 other young girls about my same age.....9 or 10. We were put in one room, 2nd floor of the "little girl's dormitory." One small bed that we shared, taking turns on the floor. The door was locked from the outside. Our meals were brought to us on trays, set on the floor, and the person left after knocking on the door. They treated us like we had leprosy.!! And we were let out about 3 times a day to go to the bathroom. What if there had been a fire? We had one small window to look out.

The other I remember.....I got very ill with pneumonia; my parents were working.....Think Mom was in OKC working in the defense plant, father was in the Army. We were allowed to march to town on the weekends. My Grandmother would come from the farm every weekend to see me and visit. That one weekend when I didn't show up in town, Grandmother asked some of the girls where I was...the girls told her I was sick in the dormitory. She got very upset. She called for the taxicab and went out to the school. Once again no adult ever checked on me; G-mother scooped me up in her arms and carried me out to the taxi ( she told him to wait ) and they took me to the Indian Hosp., which was nearby. The Dr. checked me and told G-mother I had pneumonia and I might die. I was put in an oxygen tent. I heard G-mother singing Pawnee songs, praying and crying. So you see, I guess I was too ornery/mean to die.!! I had always had a strong attachment to my Grandmother and after that incident I had a stronger, loving respect for her.

So David, I had a tough childhood; there are so many things that happened and I had not thought about them until now. This may not be what you wanted to know about the Indian School.

Later******

November 22

I had mentioned to Norma in a Facebook exchange that Andra, my wife, had given me a 1-hour Discovery Flight in a Cessna 172 as a birthday gift and how excited I was, because I'd always dreamed of flying like my dad, Charles House (who was a commercial pilot), but was denied that dream by a baseball injury when I was about 15. Always had thought it would be impossible to ever get my private pilot's license, but now, at age 67, had learned that it may be possible. Norma's reply: 

I think one should live out their dreams before it's too late and I know you're happy with your wife's gift. I'm glad for you.

My Father worked at Convair and was fascinated with the planes. I never heard him say he would like to fly. He did work on the B-36 and entered a contest to name the plane; he was 2nd with his entry of GOLIATHAN. That plane interrupted our class at school. I went to C.F. Brewer. Seems like I told you before about my Father/planes; did I ? None of the family was allowed to use his tools out of his toolbox. He knew exactly where the tools belonged! I guess most mechaniclal engineers are like that. My favorite was the B-38, the HUSTLER. I wished I could fly when I was a lot younger, but I didn't pursue that.

About "the school," it was called Pawnee Boarding School; and other tribes went there. I don't know when it was built. It's a brown-stone building ( girl's dorm ), 2-story. The "little girls" stayed in the bottom and the "big girl's" were upstairs. I don't know about the boy's dorm; never went inside. The 2 dorms were seperated by the dining hall. We had to line up in front of the dorms, including the boys, and MARCH to the dining hall.!! The school acquired the name GRAVY U.!!! That's what was served most of the time. Whenever an Indian met another and asked, "Did you go to Gravy?," they knew what they were talking about. The school is about a mile east of the town of Pawnee. It's still there, but the buildings are now used for Govt. business.

When my parents had to leave for the Army (Father), mother had to go to work. I was taken to the boarding school for "safe" keeping since almost all the children stayed there all yr. I did learn to take up for myself.! Prior to that school, I spent about 2 yrs. with my mother's Uncle/wife in Anadarko. I started school there and when I went back with my parents in Pawnee, I went to the boarding school. When I enrolled, the teacher decided I was more advanced than the others. I was promoted to the next grade, so I skipped a grade. Then when my parents changed my school again, I went to a country school -- STAR-A-STAR.! Once again I was promoted to the next grade. Seems like I was more advanced than the class. Even when my Father took me to T.C.U., I was too young to start college. Spent that year downtown in a business college.

The boarding school took in students from the first grade through 9th grade, I believe. I don't know how many students were there.

The farm was the homestead, not quite 100 acres; Govt.-issued to my maternal grandparents. I think it was called an allotment. I remember a lot of good things on the farm. Learned to ride horses---Indian style---no bridle or saddle. We did put a rope in the lower jaw of the horse, that's all.

You can ask me most anything about our tribe. I think my grandfather was ahead of planning the building of the house. It was 2-story with a commode, bath tub and there was NO running water. we had to pump the water and carry the water into the house. Thank goodness, the windmill /pump was a few feet from the kitchen.

I never got to know my Grandfather. He died when I was about 20 months old. He was the Medicine Man of the tribe.

Writing this has brought back a lot of memories. TAKE CARE.......STAY HEALTHY.

One little tidbit: Did I mention I have a brother? His name is Bob Moline, western artist, lives here in Fort Worth.

November 26

Nowah, David.!!!!! (Osiyo, Norma)

I think I forgot to mention Bob is my adopted brother. Yrs. ago the Inter-Tribal club was trying to get their club together and put on dances and my parents voluntered to help them. Most of them lived close to Dallas. That was how the POW-WOW began at Trader Village. My Father was the tallest person, thus he stood out among the dancers. Bob became very curious/fascinated and asked to do sketches of him. Bob is self-taught. The mutual admiration started over 30 yrs. ago. My parents soon became attached to him and decided to adopt him into the family. They took him back to Pawnee and introduced him to the tribe and told Bob if he went among other tribes to mention he is from the Roberts' family. When he did go to Santa Fe, he was surprised how welcomed/treated he was. Grandfather Roberts was the stable master at the Indian school and a lot of the older Indians remembered my Grandfather and his wife, my father's mother; she was the "dining room matron." My father even went to school there. Bob has many paintings of father and he gave me one for my birthday, few yrs. ago and another for just being his sister!!!

Bob told me he had gone up north last summer and stopped at a museum in Nebraska and was surprised to see a large picture of Grandfather. I asked him if it was authentic and he said yes. I asked him if he told the curator he was his Grandson, said of course said they were glad to meet some of the family. They gave him a lot of pictures and sent him more when he got home.

Incidentally, Bob is Comanche! He wants to be considered PAWNEE. He wants a Pawnee name and asked me to help him. I told him we would have to ask the person that gives names. I asked him which Band he would like to be and he didn't hesitate and said SKIDI.!

Bob is a renowned saddlemaker and has made saddles for several Country/Western entertainers. He has his own designs and he's not cheap!! He also does bronzes, used to do watercolors, charcoal, but I don't know if he still does those. Have to brag on him....he did several oils of Father and they were on display in the COWBOY HALL OF FAME IN OKLAHOMA.

Well, David, i'll sign off for now; that pecan pie is calling me. I trust you and famiy had a great Thanksgiving.....

Yes, Norma, we did. And we all are doubly blessed this November, having these great stories from you. Thank you for taking the time to write them and for your permission to share them. To me, it's so very important for us to share stories about our heritage.

Respectful comments from anyone who reads this are most welcome. If you're Indian, what are some of your heritage-related memories?

-- David

NCAI webcast this morning

 Go here for this morning's live webcast of the National Congress of American Indians State of Indian Nations address, beginning at 9:30 a.m. Fort Worth time, from the Newseum in Washington, D.C.

I'd be tweeting this as well, but Twitter says it's over capacity at the moment.

 

Mourning the loss of Phil Record

Today's Star-Telegram carried news I've dreaded -- an obituary about the death of a Fort Worth newspaper giant, Phil Record. Phil was 81 and had lived a full life blessed with loving family, admiring colleagues and many honors during his long journalism career.

Phil's legacy will go on for centuries, maybe forever. His resume on TCU's website provides far more perspective than today's story could offer. It's worth reading and contemplating. Thanks to TCU's skiffvideo, there are two interviews with Phil that are on YouTube. There he is in his Notre Dame sweatshirt (he was a proud alum), talking about his career. As compelling as ever. The interviews are here and here.

No one loved journalism and the Fort Worth Star-Telegram more than Phil. I was amazed at the level of S-T ownership he felt. He was known literally around the world in newspaper circles as a champion of ethical practices. He was a lead player in the Society of Professional Journalists' development of an SPJ code of ethics and was one of the primary writers. He was a leading voice as well in the Organization of News Ombudsmen (ONO).

I'd always heard of Phil wherever I worked -- Dallas, Denver, St. Pete, etc. But I never got to meet him until I began work at the S-T in 2000. That was three years after he had retired, but nothing kept Phil out of the newsroom for long. He maintained a close relationship with the paper. And what a delight he was to meet. Jovial, charismatic, sharing questions and thoughts with a contagious laugh. Several times a day every day, S-T editors gather in the Phil Record Conference Room just off the newsroom to go over the news budgets and decide content for the next day's paper and the online product.

I like to think I had a special bond with him. Phil and I each had 7-year tenures as Star-Telegram ombudsman. He was the paper’s first (1990-1997). I was the paper’s last (2001-2008). In between were Paul Harral (the last fulltime ombudsman) and Lance Murray. Phil gave me plenty of advice, much of which is included in this column he wrote in 1996.

My memories of Phil are a massive jumble –- like the piles of odds and ends in every drawer of the huge old wooden desk that all of we ombuddies had used. Phil was always generous in his response whenever I needed guidance, ideas or encouragement.

We shared deep concern about the toxic erosion of news media credibility and some newspaper organizations' lack of response. We shared concern about newspapers' selling out to soft entertainment news and pop culture at the expense of giving strongly focused attention to hard-news coverage.

We shared the same view of the ombuddy role: it’s a ministry. It’s aimed at caring about people and trying to help them. Humility is essential. You check your ego at the door.

We had the same practice: we would pray for strength before and throughout the workday, and we would pray for the intolerant souls we had to deal with, a problem that increased markedly during my tenure as civility in political dialogue vanished and strident denunciation of the free press increased.

Phil was a man of faith. One spring day in 2001 not long after I’d stepped into the ombudsman role, I was cleaning out a bookcase in the ombudsman office and came across a Bible that was Phil’s, according to the filled-in “This Bible belongs to” line.

I called Phil to see if he wanted me to mail it to him. “Keep it,” he said. “You’ll need it.” And remember, he added (I don’t recall his exact words, but I remember his point): Jesus listened. So do good ombuddies.

Got a memory of Phil you'd like to share? Or a complaint or commendation about today's journalism? 

 

You tell 'em, Leonard

I’m a huge fan of Miami Herald columnist Leonard Pitts, Jr. His op-ed column today in the Star-Telegram is a good example of why I admire his work.

As usual, Leonard writes about a compelling issue with impressive thoughtfulness and clarity that anyone can understand. Today, he’s venting about why “citizen journalism” isn’t journalism at all. What his view boils down to is an argument that deserves a standing ovation:

“You cannot be a journalist -– citizen or otherwise -– if credibility matters less than ideology.”

I can’t think of a simpler, more effective way to speak that truth.

Amplified by the Web’s awesome power and other new media, ideology and propagandists infest our society and culture at a toxic level, focusing destructive energies on divisiveness instead of dialogue. For instance, have you ever heard talk-show propagandist Sean Hannity tear into someone who challenges one of his views? Hannity tears them apart. So goes ideology's attack. It takes to a new level the impact of the lies, rumors and shuck 'n' jive that have plagued humankind since Day One.

 “Every Tom, Dick and Harriet with a blog is a ‘citizen journalist,’” Leonard writes. Well, obviously, not all bloggers view themselves as journalists, but many do, and as I’ve read them, I’ve noted that rhetoric, not verified facts, fill their work. Yes, it's important to share thoughts and reaction. Just don't call that journalism.

There's an entire universe of good blogs that reflect informed work and are worth reading. Check here and find some guidance here. And there’s an excellent local blog -– Fortworthology.

It’s too bad that more “citizen journalists” can’t be authentic journalists digging for and reporting facts -- from pursuing government documentation with Freedom of Information requests to exposing the scandal of potholes. This country of ours needs all the real journalists it can get.

If you’re not a journalist but would like to be, go for it.

I’d suggest, though, that first you read the Society of Professional Journalists Code of Ethics.   Might want to note that the preamble speaks of “enlightenment.” Facts and transparency (and good journalists), not mere opinions, provide the light for that state of being.

What do you think?

S-T losing veteran city hall reporter

Heard some bittersweet news from Dallas just while ago: Mike Lee, the Star-Telegram’s excellent city hall reporter, is leaving soon to join Bloomberg’s Dallas bureau staff to cover the natural gas industry.

For the S-T, that’s a hard loss of deep, credible institutional knowledge and talent, but it’s a great career move for Mike. It speaks volumes about his talent and why he’s held in such high regard at the paper, at city hall and among readers. Mike’s potent work ethic and deep familiarity with Barnett Shale-related matters will fit well with Bloomberg’s stratospheric level of competitiveness, competence and expectations.

There’s no source for business news that bests Bloomberg, in my opinion. They've been around since 1981, but If you’re not familiar with them, take a look at their website and their about page.

I congratulate Mike and Bloomberg. I wish Mike happiness, prosperity and fulfillment on his new path. I’m sure Mike’s going to be just fine with not having to pull obit duty, a rotating S-T assignment among the short-staffed city desk’s team.

Who will fill Mike’s shoes at city hall? That's a demanding beat that needs to be covered by a passionate, persistent and savvy reporter.

There are excellent backups in Anna Tinsley and Aman Batheja, one of the sharpest and most unflappable political writers around. Perhaps one of them will shoulder the city hall beat temporarily if not permanently. Whoever it is, we wish them the best. I have no doubt that Mike’s boss at the S-T, veteran assistant managing editor John Gravois, will find a capable replacement. Lord knows there’s plenty of hungry talent out there in the debris left by newsroom cuts across the country over the past two years.

Here's something I'm sure is weighing on newsroom managers' minds: Whenever a newsroom loses someone of Mike’s stature, a dreaded domino effect can follow as other staffers are inspired to bail out for opportunities elsewhere.

All newsrooms are vulnerable to that even in these tough times. I certainly had to contend with the domino effect back in my newsroom management days. But I’d guess the S-T’s particularly vulnerable in light of increased duties staff must juggle and disquieting daily uncertainty over when another staff cut may occur. At the same time, current tight conditions in the newspaper job market may blunt the domino effect. Time will tell.

This much is for sure: Bloomberg’s getting one heck of a reporter. The Star-Telegram will find a strong one, too. With the City of Fort Worth struggling with so much -– from a budget-busting pension plan to a retiring city manager, mind-boggling infrastructure challenges, and a fed-up citizenry/electorate expecting solutions –- the Star-Telegram must pump all the strength it can into the city hall beat.

 

PR: A few thoughts and recollections from a journalist

After a 43-year career in journalism (mainstream regional dailies in Dallas, Denver and elsewhere) and communications (stints with the Dallas Police Department and political public relations), I’ve been ruminating of late about PR-related experiences.

It’s my wife’s fault.

She’s an APR-certified, down-to-earth and very wise veteran public relations practitioner who, in my purely objective estimation (I kid you not, because professionalism rules both of us), could run any company’s communications department. I respect her mightily and the admirable recommendations she has for the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA) that she’s sharing with that organization, but that’s another story. Don't get me started.

As she has prepared those recommendations, I’ve overheard her anguish over everything from whether her ideas carry validity to the wording and processes involved in presenting them.

On my end, I’ve reflected about how I’ve encountered PR initiatives and practitioners over the years. None are (used to be “is” but no longer) innocent. With feigned self-humility and lavish hospitality, they played me and other newsroom staffers, some of whom reveled in the gifts and strokes that flowed from the ego-fertilizing PR cornucopia -- amazing thank-you gifts, product “samples” and, well, “arrangements” with their attractive colleagues.

Of course, the great newsroom ethics push that emerged prominently in the ’80s, spreading through the ’90s and into the 21st century, soured such practices to some degree. Nowadays, even a non-profit organization’s T-shirt promotion aimed at certain news departments (Features, for instance) will be sacked up and sent to a night shelter or some organization that provides clothing for the poor. Meals with PR reps are Dutch affairs. For ethical purity, no reporter should take a free meal from a practitioner or even at a civic club’s luncheon they’re covering. And no knowledgeable PR practitioner should dangle such temptations. But it happens. But it shouldn’t. But righteous ethics say, “No Freebies of Any Kind. They Compromise Your Credibility, Dear Journalist. They keell you! Eat, Drink and Revel at Your Risk.”

So I think back to my beginnings in the news business, back to the late ’60s when I began my career at my hometown newspaper, the Texarkana (Ark.-Tex.) Gazette. So many memories, but I remember in particular the Christmas holidays when the funeral homes would send their ambulance drivers and sometimes their funeral directors to our little street-level newsroom at night with gifts for us, the hard-working, barely paid news staffers.

And with what did the funeral homes ply us? Wonderful little aluminum calendar thingies that could be bent in just such a way as to clamp around our watch bands. We could have a year's worth of months-at-a-glance right there on our watch bands along with the funeral home's phone number.

Sometimes some of us would wonder: If we’re getting stuff this cool, what’s the publisher getting? What’s the ad department getting? What are the guys in the backshop getting other than drunk? I can only imagine the PR-focused gifts at such levels. Whatever they were, I doubt they outdid the gifts that flowed to sports staff at The Dallas Morning News.

As at the Gazette, I have fond (and humbling) holiday memories from my stint at The News. I recall times in 1970 when I observed cheery PR guys -- not PR womens -- dashing through the newsroom and laden with holidayish bags and boxes as they made a B-line to the sports department on the west end of the newsroom.

From my city desk vantage point near the center of the newsroom, I couldn’t tell what the heck they had for the sports guys, but that didn’t matter. Word got back to us. The sports guys got jugs of Johnnie Walker, Rolex watches and other expensive things. I can’t remember what all piled up over there, according to sources.

But we on the night city desk could not cast stones. We were also plied with PR gifts. Maybe they weren’t as elaborate as the freebies the sports guys got, but they got us past many a deadline in a merry fashion.

Every Thanksgiving and Christmas season, instead of Rolex watches and expensive scotch, we got a platter of SMU’s famous brownies and a turkey, the remains of which were stolen one year by a copy editor after the final edition shoved. I saw him do it. I had ambled to the south end of the third-floor (newsroom) hall to smoke a cigarette and stare out of the huge plate-glass window there when I looked down and saw that editor running through the parking lot with that huge, plattered turkey carcass. I watched him stuff it into the trunk of his car.

“Damn,” I thought. “If you’re that hungry, I ain’t telling nobody. Sure beats 2 a.m. nachos at the Green Glass bar.”

I’m not sure the turkey or the brownies scored any PR points, but they were received by editors and reporters with charitable joy.

Then there was the time around 1972 when I was working on a story related to a Dallas utility’s expensive farm operations. When I met with the head PR guy, a VP, I made the mistake of asking first, “Hey, who’s your secretary?”

Gawd, she was a beautiful long-haired brunette, single, blessed with a natural come-get-me smile and a refreshing air of decency, which, I will say to my certain condemnation, is not generally found among hard-edged, crusty newsroom women (thank God).

“What? Who is she?” the tailored, handsome VP whispered, leaning toward me. “Would you like to meet her?”

I had not matured beyond my East Texas yokel level. “Yes!” I said to the VP. And so it came to pass, on an evening not long thereafter, I was sitting in the secretary’s humble apartment living room in Oak Cliff, listening to her stories about growing up in Oklahoma and the Assembly of God church where women were extremely unlikely to be defiled. I didn’t see her again. Didn’t do that story, either. I was depressed. Tweeeeet! Victory for the utility.

But I learned some good lessons, e.g., always keep hormones in check, never get distracted from the assignment (do not ever test city editors’ patience), embrace sacrifice, hard-ass professionalism and skepticism. If you ever suspect you're being PR'd, you probably are. If you never suspect you're being PR'd, God help you.

I could go on with more anecdotes, but let’s pretend there are word limits in cyberspace.

Your turn.

What do you think of such PR practices from days of yore? Are they still going on (c’mon …)? How have PR ethics changed? What lessons have been learned? What sort of credibility can PR hope to develop?          

Can credibility even be an issue in a craft that’s relies on selective truth? Is there really such a thing as a credible PR practitioner?

Who’s running the PR profession anyway? How do they impact the profession’s credibility? Is that “APR” just a fake credential? Why aren’t there more practitioners with that designation after their name? How many heads of PR agencies claim APR?

 Isn’t “APR” in fact a useless string of letters? What are the issues/anecdotes that come to your mind? C’mon. Share. Madmen’s a true contemporary story, right?

How a deaf/amputee pilot grew his wings

As promised in the previous post, here’s the Q&A with deaf/amputee pilot Mike Boland (at left), an American Airlines mechanic and an inspiration for all of us who would love to learn to fly but feel hobbled by an impediment. Sincere thanks to Mike, a friend of the Deaf Pilots Association, for taking time out of his weekend to share these thoughts. Let me know if you have questions for him, particularly in regard to the sponsorships he’s seeking (see Question #6 below), and I’ll share them with him.

Obviously, there are many, many questions one would like to ask Mike, but, in trying to respect his time, I opted for seven that sketch a bit of background and context about him. Here they are:

1. What does flying mean to you? Why are you so passionate about it?

Flying is very relaxing to me. I just like being up there in the sky, watching the world go by, the changing landscape. Some people use drugs to escape stress. I use flying.

2. You began flying in 1978. As a student?

My brother, David, was in high school in an Airframe & Powerplant course, and his teacher ran an aviation repair shop at the local airport. I wanted to attend the Airframe & Powerplant class, too, but the school district was very selective of who they allowed into the program and didn't think a deaf person like me could succeed in the class. Instead, I was steered into typical "deaf careers" -- offset lithography/printing, and the printing class was right across the hall from the Airframe & Powerplant hanger.

I mentioned to my brother I'd like to fly, but I can't hear on radios. He told me you don't need to. Encouraged, I started flying lessons. My brother soloed in 10 hours, but I had like 30-plus hours and was still having trouble landing and (conducting) other flight maneuvers. I was told by several CFIs (Certificated Flight Instructors ) to give it up, I was just wasting my money.

Mike and three other deaf pilots at the recent Reno (Nev.) Air Races. From left: Guy Pratt of Portland, Ore.; Rusty Reagan of Los Angeles; Nicole Brill of Reno, and Mike Boland of Rhome Texas.

 After my brother got his private pilot certificate, I flew with him. On landing, he told me I was trying steer the aircraft with its ailerons instead of using the rudder to keep the nose lined up with the center line. Two hours with my brother, I had it down. No CFI ever told me anything. We'd just go fly, and I'd be frustrated, not quite understanding what or why doing this / that etc.

3. Where and what airplane did you fly first? What's a special memory from that experience?

I first flew out of the now closed Arrowhead airport in St. Louis. My dad hired a CFI to take us flying when we were kids. I still remember the year -- 1968. Later, I started learning to fly there in Grumman AA-5A Cheetahs and Grumman AA-5B Tigers. About 6 months later, the hanger burned down with all the aircraft in it. I then split my time flight training between St. Charles Flying Service at 3SQ airport in St. Charles, Mo., when I was home from college in summer, and Saj Aviation in LeRoy, N.Y., when I was in college at NTID. I started skydiving about this time, and I was always either out at dropzone in Ovid, N.Y., or at the airport taking flying lessons.

4. You lost your left arm in 1980. What happened? Was your hearing loss related to that accident?

I was about 3 years old. I came down with German measles and soon lost my hearing after that. I grew up deaf. I lost my arm in a dune buggy accident off road. We "blew the engine up" and were being towed back. I thought we had stopped and started to get out and then the truck towing me started going again, and my left arm got caught between the tire and frame.

5. You earned your private pilot certificate in November 1983. This is a corny question, but how did you feel? What went through your mind?

I knew I could do it. I knew I could safely fly an airplane. My student pilot certificate was signed off and my log book endorsed by my CFI for solo local flights and solo cross country flights, so I already had many hours flying alone. The FAA gave me my check ride, which I failed on first try, because on the oral part of the test he asked me a question on FARs (Federal Aviation Regulations) and I said I didn't know, so I was automatically failed. I should have told the FAA examiner, “I'm not sure, I'll look it up,” which would have been acceptable to him. But no one ever told me that. I learned that fact the hard way!

We scheduled another check ride two days later, and I passed the oral test and then the flight test itself. Having my private pilot certificate felt really good, because it was something I worked hard to get and invested a lot of money into doing so. It was a longtime goal of mine.

*6. What do you want to do with your skills in aviation?

I've got my FAA private pilot certificate and FAA Airframe & Powerplant mechanic certificate. I know many deaf people who want to fly, but communications between deaf and CFI are poor. Many deaf people have a hard time finding a CFI with time and patience to write everything down -- old pencil and paper method. They'd rather not waste their time so they can move on to the next student to make money.

I'd like to get sponsorships to get my Instrument and Commercial pilot ratings to become a CFI. I estimate this would cost me around $18,000. I'd love to do it myself, but after I make monthly car and house payments, pay utility bills, food, etc., I have no money left, so I'm looking into trying get sponsorships to obtain these ratings and limit my teaching to deaf /amputees. I would not charge any CFI Fees. I’d pay it forward in return for the sponsorship.

*Mike's already "paying it forward." Here's an example: When Mike e-mailed his responses to me Sunday night, Oct. 2, he mentioned that earlier that day, he’d put his Cessna 172 to good use, taking two young deaf women on their first flight. The deaf father of one had mentioned to Mike that his daughter would like to learn to fly, so Mike took her and her friend on a spin through the skies around Gainesville where he keeps his plane.

7. What would you/do you say to a disabled person who longs to fly but feels that's an impossible dream?

They can reach their dream. You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true.

 Photos courtesy of Mike Boland.

What do you think of Mike, his achievements and ambitions? What else would you ask him? Your comments are welcome. Keep ’em clean and respectful, and I’ll publish them.

Forget the news. Think Fruit!

Wouldn’t you know Bud Kennedy would lead a Sunday fruit page? I’m sure his many enemies enjoyed that. And his many fans (including me and my wife), who probably chuckled when they saw parallels between the ads and Bud’s topic. But I digress. And I apologize for not being able to stitch together the fruit page, but at least you get the idea.

Satr I was scrubbing skillets early this morning (had to make the 9 a.m. mass) from Saturday night’s chalupa fest when my wife, who was leafing through the paper on the breakfast counter, said: “Have you seen this?”

She held up Sunday’s gawd-awful Page 2B. “When I first started reading this page,” she said, “I kept thinking, ‘How does this art go with these stories?’ ” News readers think in such shocking ways. Then it dawned on her: This page had been savaged by invasive advertising – the kind that says: To hell with news columns. We want you, reader, to focus on these oranges, limes and that apple wth a stem in your eye. I know the eye-movement studies. You can bet that apple stem stopped more than a few readers’ eye movement as did the limes and oranges. Suggested to me that space on a page is too valuable to waste on a smart-ass columnist, another murder story and yet another environment story related to “clean-coal” power plant issues. Right? Is any of that new and compelling in its effort to open windows on life? Yawner news? Wouldn’t think so, but I’d be interested to know how readership was affected by citrus fruit rolling into Bud’s space, an apple poking into the murder story and a huge orange muscling its way into the environment story.

We’ve become accustomed to seeing ads like this that cut into news’ space. Bully for you, bully ads.

Time was when you stayed on your side of the page, and news stayed on its side. Not anymore. News (the revenue-reduction department, as I’ve heard news content ridiculed by the bean-counters) gives it up quickly for advertising. And we know why advertising can kick news’ butt these days. The for-profit model rules. Papers are struggling to find revenue wherever and however they can find it. What’s left of the news staff doesn’t care anymore, I’d guess. Let ads invade news columns. Who cares? Staff’s more likely to have a job tomorrow. Credibility may take a kidney punch, but the place is open for business tomorrow. I understand all that.

So why am I so bothered by those invasive ads? Yes, I know that 50% of readers pick up a paper for its news content and 50% of readers pick up a paper for its ad content. That’s an old but persistent and true statistic. Question is, which side is going to take it in the bum when the revenue going gets tough? And, is that even a worthwhile question to raise?

Serious readers are going to read 2B’s thought-provoking Kennedy column and those two stories even if an apple stem’s poking them in the eye. But I’d guess that less-serious readers will get mesmerized by the fruit. “Damn, Dawnie baby. Look at how this fruit kinda jumps off the page at ya. Ain't that fun?”

God bless them for subscribing or buying a single copy instead of just going online for free, but they’ll pay less attention to the news content in a space dominated by nvasive advertising. What’s so bad about that?

Readers may not learn anything. They may not form ideas and opinions based on the news content. They will be less informed, less American. They have this Florida (California?)Orange from Mars at which to gaze and contemplate. I suppose oranges and other fruits aren’t a bad thing to think about and to give thanks for, assuming they aren’t genetically engineered fruit (or, what if they are? Anyone asking?), but perhaps it would be better for less-serious readers in this environment-challenged DFW with its toxic air to be mulling environment challenges instead of the glories of oranges, limes and apples. But if one’s fixated on fruit, to heck with juicy hard news.

Another issue for me is the compromised time readers will spend with a page. It isn’t much. It’s literally seconds. Probably less than half a minute or maybe 15 seconds with Page 2B. The more time many readers spend gawking at invasive advertising because it’s so compelling visually (and we are visual creatures and can’t help that), the less time they’ll spend with news content and whatever provocative information it could impart.

Enough already. I want to see news that respects ad columns and ads that respect news columns. That’s not happening on today’s 2B. And that’s not good. Revenue can pay diminishing returns. Invasive ads send a bad signal and a troubling perception -– the S-T’s not a serious news product, it’s just a cash cow for McClatchy.

I know the S-T news staff, and I know they’re professionals, from the executive editor on down, and they reflect the respectable motivations that journalists bring to the table. But those commendable qualities are lost on much of the public these days as the anti-media forces whack and chop at the media’s credibility every chance they get. And what’s so sad is that a chunk of the public buys into what they hear. Pages like today’s 2B are no help in preserving journalism’s credibility. It’s just all about making money, right? Unfortunately, yes. But if that’s what it takes to keep excellent journalists working, then bring on papayas and mangos. And where are the bananas and bell peppers?

But I urge people who believe that the media’s only interested in profits to take a look at Pulitzer Prize-winning efforts for the past 20 or 30 years, take a look at how less-than-prize-winning coverage keeps public officials more sensitive to the need to clean up their act, take a look at how coverage inspires community forums to discuss local concerns. Case in point: debates over the City of Fort Worth’s pension issues. Journalists keep local affairs clear and honest. As much as they can. 

Of course, for newspapers, all of that happens primarily on the printed page and, yes, to some degree in cyberspace nowadays (but there you have these cursed floating ads that temporarily obscure one’s ability to read the news). My point is that anything that cripples the Fourth Estate’s ability to connect with readers needs to be addressed with mucho cajones and shown the door or laughed down Seventh Street. Ain’t gonna happen, though, I fear. The prevailing idea, it seems, is to embrace money first and First Amendment stuff maybe will follow. 

The for-profit model takes out journalists' kneecaps very proficiently.

But it bothers the hell out of me when I think that oranges, limes and apples are all it takes to inflict a crippling blow on credible sources of reliable news and information. At least we haven’t seen that sort of invasiveness yet on the sports pages and the editorial/op-ed pages where J.R. Labbe, Bob Ray Sanders, Linda Campbell and Mike Norman have been spared the fruit bullying.

Thank God. Those are some of the brightest lights in this city as are Celeste Williams, Randy Galloway, Gil Lebreton and colleagues. But that’s sort of easy to understand. Thinking people, the types who read editorial/op-ed content at least, and sports fans whose passions bulldoze ads’ attempts to stop their brawls, are not low-hanging fruit who can be distracted easily. They’re not worth ad dollars unless those ads can match the passions in whose presence they presume to plop and command attention. Could happen, but those readers set the bar high – way too high for advertising of Madmen’s ilk. And I love that. Show me an ad that can rivet attnetion on an op-ed or sports page, and I'll show you an ad that's damn genius stuff.

Make those ad/pr people work their butts off -- just like news staff does. Fight like hell over the space on news pages. Knock heads. You good enough to get in that fight? Yes? No? 

Bottom line: Make ads work harder in their space. Don’t invade news columns. They need to be strong enough not to coattail on news' muscle. After all, news organization’s credibility gives ads their value. Yes? If you don't agree, you're not much of ad/pr person. If you do agree, you need to tell the S-T to quit selling its space on the (credibility) cheap.  

What do you think? Your comments are welcome.

Spreading our wings

I’ve had pretty much a lifelong dream -- learning to fly. That notion was inspired by my dad, a policeman and parttime commercial pilot. Flying was his passion. He would sneak away from school when he was 16 (c 1935) and take flying lessons from a barnstormer in an OX-5 Swallow, an open-cockpit biplane.

 “Kinda hard to land,” I remember dad saying. “It just wanted to float along. You had to make it land.” But he learned to fly that plane and flew many others before he was grounded in the late '60s by heart problems. My dream was grounded in the ’60s, too.

I was a pitcher. Got a line drive to the forehead, resulting in a scar on my brain that gave me epilepsy, meaning I couldn’t pass a flight physical. Over time, I outgrew the epilepsy, as the doctors had said. But it was part of my history and continued to carry the stigma that has prevailed through the decades. Bypass surgery a while back probably was the final nail in my dream, but I don’t know for sure.

I’ve always rejoiced at news that someone has earned their private pilot certificate. I enjoy surfing websites devoted to airplanes and aviation. One of my all-time favorite poems is "High Flight." I follow Cessna Pilot Centers (CPC) on Facebook, and it was there earlier this week that a CPC post stunned me.

“Here's a thumbs up,” the item read, “to Michael Boland, deaf/amputee pilot who got his ratings at Marcair (one of our CPCs in the DFW area), and who just checked out at Sonoma's Skypark Aviation, our CPC in Sonoma County, CA! Yes, deaf can fly.”

I had no idea that folks with those sorts of disabilities could qualify for flight training much less for private pilot certification. My heart soared for them. Then I Googled “disabled private pilots,” and a new world of information opened up. One website, Flight-Ability, lists 91 disabled aviators around the world, including Boland.

I was amazed. I was encouraged as well. Maybe I could learn to fly after all. I’ll look into it.

I contacted Marcair, a CPC headquartered at Northwest Regional Airport in Roanoke north of here, to ask about Mike Boland and disabled aviators. Charlie Yates returned my query. He remembered Boland and was glad to hear about him getting checked out in California. And he told me about going to the Oshkosh airshow last year and meeting a woman aviator with no arms. She puts her headset on with her feet, he said, and she flies a specially designed Aircoupe, which has no rudder pedals to begin with.

Then I contacted Boland, who’s a mechanic for American Airlines and a North Texan. Very nice fellow with hopes to become a Certified Flight Instructor (CFI) so he can teach other disabled folks to fly. I asked if he would let me blog about him, and he agreed, so here in the next few days, watch for a Q&A with him.

I thought I had a passion for airplanes, a love of flying and a dream of learning to fly, but all of that pales in the light of aviators like Boland, that woman at Oshkosh and the pilots on Flight-Ability’s website. I’m sure each has an incredibly inspiring story to tell. I’m looking forward to this blog sharing a little bit about Mike Boland.

Perhaps reading about his achievements against such odds will inspire anyone to reach for a dream, whether it's learning to fly or whatever. They've certainly given me enough hope to look into whether my dream's possible.

 Any thoughts? Your comments are always welcome.

One way to light up the switchboard

Interesting play art on today's Your Life cover in the Star-Telegram: a photo illustration for the lead story, "Fall books preview." The art was a collage of photos of famous people whose books will be coming out soon.

Take a long look. Is there anything about the photo illustration that bothers you? Perhaps not. But I imagine that the paper's reader advocate phone line quickly filled with furious, outspoken conservatives provoked by an illustration that, in their view, deliberately slighted icons Ronald Reagan and George Bush.

Instead (I can hear them say, because in my ombuddy days I got so many calls like this) the illustration by the liberal media glorified "arch liberals" -- Jon Stewart, Steve Martin, Barack Obama, Barbra Streisand and some brunette who's probably just as bad as they are. And I can imagine the readers' accusations:

-- Your liberal editors deliberately tried to obscure Ronald Reagan and George Bush.

-- George Bush looks like a ghost. George should've been where Jon is.

-- I'm not letting my kids see this liberal-media propaganda.

-- I'm not letting my grandkids see this liberal-media propaganda.

-- I'm cancelling my subscription to the liberal media. I've had it with your liberal bias.

-- Rush Limbaugh's right. There's a "media crisis" in America.

-- This is a sad day in America.

There's no escaping political aspects of anything anymore, it seems. Not even authors. Perhaps there never has been.

In this area, the heaviest conservative market in Texas, the most provocative aspect of this photo illustration, I think, is not just the secondary place given to Reagan and Bush but the near-transparent treatment of Bush's photo. That's asking for trouble. I imagine trouble followed.

If you had been the editor in charge of pulling together this photo illustration, how would you have handled it? Would politicization issues have crossed your mind? If so, would that have made any difference in how you would have designed the piece? What other aspects would you have considered?

Given the demographic with which papers aim to connect (younger readers in general) and given Stewart's popularity among them, I may have kept Stewart as the dominant image for a boost in relevance.

But given the demographic of subscribers (older conservatives) and readers who expect fairness, I would've strengthened Bush's picture somehow to provide as much relevance as possible for them. I'm not sure I would've replaced that brunette, whoever she is, with Bush, because there are only two women in the collage and five men, and correctness dictates that some sense of equivalent prominence be given to the women.

Whatever. I'm sure those and Lord knows how many other issues got a thorough airing today on the reader advocate's phone. Did you think about calling? 817-390-7692