The Boston Globe from Boston, Massachusetts • 93

Ik (the Boston lobe Sunday, November 22, 1981 ptt gP 4 Antiques A3 Confidential Chat A44 Wmlmm mm mis0 Arts Films All In the early days of the Bay State I Banner, publisher Melvin B. Miller had a heavy influence on editorial content. "I have long felt that crime fi in the black community was a very I serions problem. So that has been an I issue we have been after for a long, r. jr GLOBE PHOTOS BY JACK O'CONNELL 5 "1 'y -f I 1 Assistant pub- lisher Cheryl Landy (lef t) dis- ''-OT" ri cusses an up- ,1 I CODling ISSUC y- I with artist Fern Allen.

L- I Li I i 1 The Bay State Banner: The paper and the publisher cent concentrated in the predominantly black areas of Roxbury, Dorchester, Mattapan, and Hyde Park. Because it's a weekly, the Banner's staff has time to be more extensive than a daily paper in its coverage of events and people, especially as they occur in the black community, according to former Managing Editor Ronald J. Wynn, who left The Banner Oct. 30 for a better-paying job. Wynn sees one of The Banner's strengths in its reflective approach to the news.

"We aren't geared toward day to day events," he said as he relaxed behind his former cluttered desk at the Banner's editorial offices at 925 Washington st. in Dorchester. In September, the Banner moved from its old location at 25 Ruggles st. in Roxbury. The daily news media in the city have a "crisis mentality," and are more geared to "cover the tragedies, crises," he said.

The Banner's focus, according to Wynn, includes the events of emergency, but tends to lean more toward events in the black community that revolve around politics, economics, education, housing and social programs. The Banner pays particular attention to crime in the black community. "I have long felt that crime in the black community was a very serious problem," Miller said. "So that has been an issue that we have been after for a long, long time." To many members of the black community, according to Wynn, the Banner is received as the regu-BANNER, Page A5 we weren't here, they'd tear this sucker up." he said. The financial situation of the Banner during those early years was shaky.

In April of 1966, less than a year after it was founded, It folded with a headline reading "Banner Being Forced Out Of Business," because of a lack of advertising revenue. Almost immediately after the paper folded, community residents formed a Committee to Save the Banner, which put pressure on local advertisers to support the paper. Four weeks later the Banner was back on the stands. The editorial staff increased from Rollins, a staff of one, to today's staff of three reporters and one managing editor. And the paper itself grew.

It was originally a 10-page, full-size sheet. It reverted to a tabloid in 1968, and currently averages about 28 pages. The editorial quality of The Banner improved as well. "If you look at the early copies of that paper, it's phenomenal how good that paper has gotten," said Cynthia Bellamy, former managing editor who was with the paper for nearly 10 years. Banner stories are written in a formal, hard-news style, leaving editorializing for the editorial page.

Missing is the overriding emphasis on sports and entertainment so common to many black publications, such as Blactress and Jet. The Banner has a circulation of about 10,500, mostly in newsstand sales, according to Circulation Manager Nicholas M. Daugherty. The circulation runs throughout Boston, he said, with 80 to 85 per Former managing editor Ron Wynn saya the Banner is a mainstream paper for a community that doesn't get the 1 coverage it deserves. '4 i tr MUt By James McBride Globe Staff After 16 years of publication, the city's only black weekly has apparently learned the formula of success.

"We survive," Melvin B. Miller, the founder and owner of the Bay State Banner, said simply. The paper, which comes out every Thursday, is a solid mix of news, interviews, ads, profiles, 6ports, and entertainment. Most, if not all the stories, are geared to-ward the city's black community, which stands at 126,229, about one-fifth of the total population of Boston, according to 1980 census figures. The Banner was formed in 1965 by Miller with the help of his brother Jack.

Bryant Rollins, a former Boston Globe reporter, community activist, and author, served as the Banner's first editor. (Neither Jack Miller nor Rollins is still with the paper.) At the time of the paper's founding, Boston's black community-was undergoing numerous changes through urban renewal, new schools and community centers, as well as federal, state and local relief aid programs. It was also the time of the civil rights movement. Bryant Rollins, recently reached at his home outside of New York City, reflected his involvement in the early days of the Banner. "I felt strongly about social and political issues affecting the community and we really raised a lot of important issues," Rollins said.

In those days, Rollins said, Miller functioned as publisher with a heavy influence on the editorial side, while his brother Jack was responsible for circulation. When asked about the rest of the editorial staff, Rollins laughed and said, "Staff? Me." Rollins cited three principal reasons behind the Banner's purpose in those days: "We were trying to help the community get more' organized and help its institutions become more organized. Secondly, we were trying to Interpret what was happening in the community to the establishment downtown. Third, we were trying to let people in the community know how decisions downtown were impacting their lives. So we saw ourselves at the center of the situation." Many elements of the Banner have changed since the first issue on Sept.

25, 1965. Perhaps the most obvious Is the paper's main purpose, which according to Miller, Is to act as a "stabilizing Influence" in the black community. "If GLOBE PHOTO BY TED DULLY STYLE I MARIAN Of SISTY The rebuilding of Pierre Salinger .4 ji it 4- rx Pierre Salinger is in characteristic pose, sitting in a princely high-backed brocade chair, chomping on an oversized cigar. Bushy brows hang protectively over deepset eyes that pierce spark, discern. He is polite but brusque, a man who talks rapidly.

In machine gun style, thoughts racing, words blurring, impressions tumbling. "Where do you want to sit? Do you want coffee?" He doesn't wait for answers. He sits. He pours coffee. Salinger is not a man who wastes time.

He uses it. Pierre Salinger, 56, is a roly poly gourmet with a slight Santa Claus sil-houete. but impeccably dressed, his shirt starched crisply and initialed, his black boots polished, his cigar fresh, his nails manicured. He Is talking the way he always talks, straight, the fascination of his television charisma. Salinger, ABC-TV's Paris bureau chief, is not glamorous or smooth or charming.

Salinger is Interesting, a rough and tumble tell-it-like-It-is-type whose intelligent, incisive quotes spill into mini-speeches. Salinger has experienced defeat, disappointment, disillusion and that has given his opinions a special perspective. He originally went to France to escape the painful reality of two Kennedy deaths. He is frank about that. "I couldn't take it.

Those two things happening. It was too much. The deaths were enormous shocks. I had this gut feeling that there was something wrong, something sick, with a democracy changed by an assassin's bullet. Why were we killing off the best we had? I knew I had to rebuild myself, to start a new life.

I had no Intention of staying long. I just thought: Life is congenial in Paris. The French have mastered the art of living. I'll just sit down and have a few decent meals." But Salinger has not cut the tie that binds. -On the Kennedys: "The past remains.

Last night Doubleday (the publishing house that employs Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and, incidentally, published Salinger's new book," American Held gave me a dinner party and Jackie presided. Jean Kennedy Smith came. Pat Lawford came. The extraordinary thing is that the loyalty goes on. The Kennedys are fantastically loyal.

When bad things have happened in my life, they're the first ones I hear from. Loyalty is the missing ingredient, in too many relationships. SALINGER, Page A4 ll 6 ij he Kennedy deaths Were enormous shocks. I had this gut feeling there was something sick with a democracy changed by an JL assassin's bullet. I knew I had to start a new life.

I had no intention of staying long. I just thought: I'll just sit down and have a few decent.