THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, December 3, 1995 TAG: 9512010145
SECTION: PORTSMOUTH CURRENTS PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Bill Leffler
LENGTH: Long : 110 lines
When grandson Jason Carmichael volunteered me to speak to Mary Hollandsworth's fifth-grade class at Court Street Academy, I figured a good way to break the ice was a 13-inch ruler.
One for each class member in sparkling colors of red, blue or green.
``What's unusual about these rulers?'' I asked.
``It has Virginian-Pilot printed on it,'' responded one observant youngster.
But a half-dozen boomed out that the ruler had 13 inches. Most rulers are 12 inches, 18 inches or yardsticks.
``It's 13 inches because that is the depth of the pages in Currents,'' I replied.
These fifth-graders are studying newspapers. I showed them a few of the many changes that have occurred through the years.
Our forerunner, the Norfolk Virginian, started with a mass of type. No pictures.
By 1912, when the price of the newspaper had escalated to three cents, pictures had been added.
Black and white pictures only.
Gradually, color was available, but infrequently.
Now every picture the newspaper takes is in color. Many are converted to black and white; but color dominates most sections.
I learned from speaking earlier at some of the high schools that the best way to keep everybody in the audience awake is to have the students involved in the discussion.
One of our city hall reporters vowed to stay out of the classroom after returning from a talk in which half the class dozed off and much of the other half was involved in spitball warfare or backroom banter.
Not so with the Court Streeters.
Somehow, I betcha a lot of parents know now how hot dogs were named.
I showed Ms. Hollandsworth's class The Associated Press stylebook, the bible of newspaper reporting. It has a listing from abbreviations and acronyms to wholesale price index.
``Under the Fs,'' I said, ``you will find frankfurter. Do you know what a frankfurter is?''
Several shouted out ``hot dog.''
Aha! Did they know that name came from the newspaper?
``They first were called hot dogs in 1906 when a cartoonist, Tad Dorgan, drew a dachshund inside an elongated bun.'' That's what the stylebook says.
There was general interest among the group in hearing how stories are written and how the finished product appears on the doorstep.
But I wondered aloud if they knew what's the toughest task for a newspaper reporter.
The answers were excellent - getting a story correct, writing it so people will be interested in reading about it, having a headline that draws attention to the story.
Nobody said anything about the clock.
The toughest job usually is making a deadline.
I told them about the recent high school football playoff game I covered at Oscar Smith. The story deadline was 11:15 p.m. It was nearly 10:30 when the game ended and I found myself in bumper-to-bumper traffic at 10:50.
How could I finish that story by 11:15?
``You telephoned it in,'' said a student up front.
Nope.
Another voice in the back said I wrote it in the automobile.
He's probably on his way to being a sports writer. Every time I stopped the car, I wrote another sentence on my note pad. When I reached the office, it was just a matter of poking it into the word processor.
I had at least a minute to look the story over.
``But that is how we can get errors in the newspaper,'' I reminded them. And I wondered if my story had been error-free.
The fifth-graders were more interested in the people I have written about.
``Did you ever meet Michael Jordan?''
``Who was the most famous person you ever met?''
``What's the noisiest sport you ever covered?''
``Don't you get tired of going to all those games?''
Some obviously figured there are better places to work on the newspaper than in the sports department.
``How come you didn't pick police instead of sports?''
I told them we're the Toy Department of the newspaper. All fun and games. And that was true until many athletes became so wrapped up in money that sports is becoming just another business.
I had a feeling the class was working this session to the end of the period. One last question, I said.
``Which person that you interviewed do you remember best?''
That was impossible to answer, but I found myself throwing out the name of former Pittsburgh baseball Hall of Famer Roberto Clemente. I asked how many of these 10- and 11-year-olds had ever heard of him. Surprisingly, several hands shot up.
``He came to Portsmouth to play in an exhibition game,'' I recalled. ``But he didn't have time to talk with me before the game. He said he would meet with me after the game.''
After the game, the Pittsburgh team was on the bus and I was headed out of the stadium without my interview.
I heard somebody say, `Hold the bus. Hold the bus.' And out of the bus came Clemente for the interview. The team sat and waited while we chatted for several minutes.
And I felt like I had really lost a friend when the four-time batting champion and 1966 Most Valuable Player died in a plane crash a few years later.
It's nice to know these kids three decades later know about Clemente.
In fact, my visit to Ms. Hollandsworth's class renewed my faith in that upcoming generation. Maybe there are a couple of future reporters in the class.
Maybe Jason will be interested in writing sports.
He already knows twice as much about soccer as his grandpa. by CNB