The Daily Tar Heel from Chapel Hill, North Carolina • Page 6

Howie Carr the Column writing is a pain in Opinion SatU (Har Iferf any cause but as a freelance type who always had at least a couple of bon mots up his sleeve. A "grabber" lead, some quick quotes, humor, and anecdote on top of anecdote-like the one about the Alabama legislator who, in the middle of a debate about the teaching of foreign languages in the state schools, rose from his seat and drawled. "I just think that if English was good enough for Our Lord Jesus Christ, it's good enough for us." See what I mean? The best recent example of the personality column around here was Nyle Frank's series that ran in the paper last fall. They may have looked easy, but Nyle worked like a bastard on those seven or eight pieces, just as hard as he worked on the 'Pede, and if you don't think he look that seriously, just ask him why he kept enough back issues of the 'Pede around for him to give his friends ribbon-tied collections of all 34 issues before he left town last November. The biggest problem Nyle had with his column, 1 think, was that he backed ass himself into a corner.

lie built it around his personality he was the king, after all and if he hadn't been able to keep up the pace and people had stopped reading, then they wouldn't have been rejecting his philosophy (what philosophy?) -they would have been rejecting Nyle himself. -I ley Nyle. if you're reading this. don't get pissed off do we still have a date to see the Burlington Rangers play this spring? Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that anyone who consciously tries to do a good job probably isn't going to last as long as the average slack-ass he's competing against. I mean, most of the good rock groups are gone, but if you send -Carefree Sugarless Gum five million or so wrappers you can still win a free Grassroots concert for your high school.

For me personally, writing columns this year has slowly turned into a gigantic pain in the ass. With a couple of exceptions, I don't even like to read newspaper columns anymore. I hate to admit it, but for once I'm in agreement with one. of those pallid little trolls at the New York Times-former managing editor Turner Catledge, who, according to Gay Talese, called columns a "malignancy" on daily journalism because they "permitted reporters to sound off on days when they often had nothing to say, and were wasting valuable space." If I were running a newspaper I don't think I'd have any columnists, and probably damn few editorials. A well-researched, well-written news story can do a lot more good, and tell its readers a lot more, than some shrill, insincere editorial or column.

Good legwork can hang somebody much more quickly and effectively than rhetoric, a leer and talking out of the side of your mouth-Jesse Helms' career notwithstanding. Well, 1 hope most of you will support the paper in its upcoming suit. about pallid little trolls, look at the people who are against aw hell, on second thought, forget about it-you've probably got enough hassles already and we'll win anyway. By all means, don't take yourself as seriously as I have myself in this piece. the Creeping "Pilot Life sign any leases and always give a phony address.

luck Tar Heels but it's going to be a beautiful spring anyway and, in the vlong run, what else is there? delusion, and perhaps a necessary one, for the loss of sensitivity could have meant I would have taken, the job to begin with. This sensitivity had allowed me in years past to do some things that really expressed feelings and shared joys and sorrow. If allowed me a real opportunity to try to bring joy to people who are important to me. It will come back, the sensitivity can be rebuilt, I say. Perhaps this, too, is just an illusion.

There are, of course, benefits to the job-even more than the trivia included in the stock answer. The job offers a chance to push in a small way for a more human university. It offers a brief chance to contribute to the educational experience. And it offers valuable experience in this crazy business of journalism. But, "Is it worth it?" Perhaps if we knew the price we might have to pay for our hopes, many dreams would never become reality.

Back when I was a freshman I used to sil in (he Lhringhaus snack bar every morning before Geography 38 and read the 1)111. Todd Cohen's latest outpourings one day he pointed out that UNC administrators "defecate" just like everyone else. Chunsky's Boston-style sportswriting. oh-shit-I've-got-l o-write-another-one columns that Bobby Nowell did. most of the paper was dull, deadly dull.

The problem. I think, was-and continues to be that most newspaper stories are written in "that pale beige tone" which Tom Wolfe talked about in New York magazine last year. livery time readers saw "that pale beige tone," Wolfe wrote, "(it) began to signal to them, unconsciously, that a well-known bore was here again, 'the a pedestrian mind, a phlegmatic spirit, a faded personality, and there was no way to get rid of the pallid little troll, short of ceasing to read." Now, if you're a columnist, you are what you write, and what could possibly Evans Witt Is lit "Is it worth it?" she said, looking for all the world like she really meant the question. "Is what worth what?" 1 replied, not fully understanding her question, first because it was a sudden change of topic from the discussion of her problems with life right now and second, because this was the third bar for us this particular night. "I mean, has it been worth it to be Fditor of The Daily Tar Heel? Has it been worth All Those Hours of Work, All The Sacrifice." You could almost hear the capital letters.

"Oh sure, it's been worth it. There's a lot of power and prestige involved and it will really look good. on a resume when I finally uet around to aDoIvine for a iob. And it's an ego trip," sounding also like I meant what 1 was saying. Satisfied, she took another swallow of beer before returning to the discussion of her situation.

That particular girl's question was not very disturbing, for it is one that had cropped up so frequently that the slock answer was ever ready. But a letter from a close friend, a person who had not wanted me to run for the job, put my mind back on the trail that the disconsolate drinking partner had thought she was seeking. "I'll be thinking of you when you have the interview for the fellowship," the letter read. "1 know you'll do well. In a Evans Witt, 80 Years ol Editorial Freedom (Uu Satin be worse than being thought of as a "pallid little troll." or.

to use another one of Wolfe's phrases, a "paralyzing snoremonger." In the DTH, that kind of columnist is customarily found composing Thought Pieces on subjects that usually inspire anything from a yawn to a catatonic-trance in the average reader. socialist conventions. University deconsolidation, the lingering problem of the Middle Fast, the lingering problem of Student Government. Needless to say, not very many people linger around long enough to catch; up on the latest boring development. There is.

however, another kind of column you can write, but it's a much trickier business than Thought Pieces. I've tried to do it-with tying success-ever since I first nailed a guy I called Jesse Hemlock to the- wall almost three years ago-guess I fixed his wagon, huh? What it involved -probably because I took it too seriou: trying to appeal to readers not as a spokesman for it way, I guess I'm glad you're editor-1 know you're neglecting your personal life and I guess that doesn't bother me as much as it once did." The letter brought back memories of long nights spent; discussing the DTH, the editorship and what the price would be for the position. $everal mornings saw the sun rise before thje discussions ended. In some of ihese talks, my friend warned me that was not only sacrificing my personal life land most of my time for the job but also a part of myself, a part she knew was an important one. The time, the kfort and the dedication that the post draws from whoever holds it might have seemed at that time to be a change only in the quantity of effort and time to be given to work on the DTH.

But even then 1 guessed, dimly with my friend's help, that a change of more than quantity was involved. The post involves a change in the person who holds it, a metamorphosis that can best be explained, by the difference between being introduced as plain ol' Kvans Witt and as DTH Editor Evans Witt. The individual becomes less important than the post. It takes only a little while to become accustomed to being introduced with a title in front of or behind one's name; it's a little ego boost each time it happens. But it takes longer to realize fully that some people yoi have called friends now relate to you first as the editor and only 3 secondarily as an individual.

It takes several social ievents ruined by the Sar-fori Editor David Woodall, Managing Editor Mary Newsom, News Editor Howie Carr, Associate Editor Lynn Lloyd, Associate Editor Winston Cavin, Shorts Editor Bruce Mann, Feature Editor Scott Stewart. Head Photographer Dean Gerdes, Nig1 it Editor 1 1 I i i I i to be Evans Witt. Editor Friday, March 9, 1973 iriace constituent groups University. At the end of tht A certain weariness and frustration is part of the mood as this Editorial Board closes its term on The Daily Tar Heel. Many of us who spent long hours working on the DTH are tired, drained by the continued effort to put out the last 152 issues of the DTH.

Many of the goals and ideals that we set for ourselves last spring have not been fully achieved and must be left for the next edit board or to sink into oblivion. But it has been, in many ways, a good year for the DTH. The lawsuit Of course, a lawsuit was filed challenging the student fees used to support the paper, but this challenge is being met. This effort to crush the DTH by the campus and state conservatives may be a major contribution to making the DTH much stronger financially and editorially. Variation was begun, putting the DTH among the handful of college papers who publish their own magazine supplement.

The supplement still must do a great deal of maturing, but, with the appointment of its own editor for next year, that process will accelerate. The attempt has been made to cover news of interest to the students and the entire community and to provide interesting commentary on that news. Sometimes we succeeded; at others, we failed dismally. But now it is time for Susan Miller and her Editorial Board to carry on the tradition of excellence that has marked, this paper for 80 years. She and her staff have the ability and competence to continue and to improve upon that tradition.

It's time Now it's time for the old Editorial Board to leave. I don't know what the other members of this group will be doing, but on some of the upcoming sunny Chapel Hill afternoons I'm going to be sitting on the grass in Polk Place, leaning up against a tree, daydreaming a little and thinking some. See a So I'm 21 now.j It doesn't feel any different. My little sister gave me a dollar in a Christmas box with a rubber band around it. And my grandfather decided to give me his 1962 Chevrolet since he can't drive anymore.

Those two gifts made me feel different. Perhaps my 21st birthday didn't make much difference until I re-read something that Joan Didion said in one of her short stories: "I think we are well advised lo keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we coulJ never forget.

We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were." I was just 20 a few days ago. The change in the actual number of years doesn't matter so much. The year of life does. I guess the year has been important because of the growing up I've done. Flach day of it has added to today.

in jtqiik A walk through Polk Place in front of South Building on a recent warm afternoon recalled another afternoon there. It was a Wednesday, and, instead of just students on their way to class, several thousand students had gathered to listen to some speeches. Four students had died that Monday on a grassy open area at Kent State, murdered by frightened bigoted men dressed in green fatigues. Two black students were to be murdered later that week at the hands of sheriffs deputies at Jackson State. Exams on campus that year were, for all practical purposes, called off, as the faculty either acquiesced or joined in with the students' protests.

No more Now, as the only undergraduate students who were at that rally prepare to graduate, activism on this campus is non-existent. The use of libraries has soared to record levels while participation in extra-curricular activities has dropped. What you're doing this weekend has become more important than a "cause" or national concern: The entire mood of America seems to be that of a weary people, who want no more changes, only to be left alone in a world they can only try to understand. Students on this campus and elsewhere want only to muddle through four years and get their degree, the faculty members seem only to want to pursue their research interests, and administrators are only concerned with budget requests. And yet there are so many tasks left undone, both on this campus and in the rest of the world.

Equality before the law is still a farGe for blacks, for women in many areas and for the American Indian. Poverty and hunger are still the harsh facts of life for too many Americans and other human beings. The curriculum at the University is so rigid that creativity of both the students and faculty is stifled. There is little realization among the handful of faculty and administrators with power of the needs and demands of the other of my meal was passed on to another hearty eater. "Hey, is that orange juice going to get made today?" the waitress yelled over the counter.

Evidently not, because she was heading towards our table empty-handed- One of our neighbors flirted with her on the way. "Sorry sir, but would you like another kind of juice?" "Yeah, I guess so. How about some grapefruit juice?" She returned with a glass that was almost too bitter to sip on. About 7:30, two more joined our neighbors. We nodded upon recognition of each other, but that was as far as it went.

Their conversations toned down considerably when they realized that they had some spectators. We Finished and were about to leave. One fellow turned out to know a member of our group, so they passed a few friendly words to each other before our departure. It was approaching eight now. and I was going to miss an hour of sleep if I didn't get hack.

Our friends would probably spend the morning trying to figure out who we all were, and what we were doing together at such an early hour in a mixed group. early morning birthday party willingness of another person to argue about an editorial or a cartoon or an article before you can accept that, too. It doesn't take too long to understand that people are playing up to you, trying to elicit a favor from you. But it takes quite awhile to understand that the very fact of your holding the position changes another person's view of you. Of course, the position changes the person who holds it.

The demands of time made by the job make it too easy to hurt another person by apparently ignoring them, by seeming to neglect them. This neglect had its prfce-in lost relationships, injured feelings and abandoned sensitivities. And that is what I miss the most. Sensitivity. The editorship-as with many other jobs-requires a certain coldness, a certain distance in order to make the decisions demanded by the post, I told myself I could be cold on the job and not lose my sensitivity to individuals.

But that was a Lynn Lloyd On an There were six of us sitting in a local restaurant just a day or so ago at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. Believe it or not, the sun was up and we were ordering breakfast. Just about a half hour earlier I had been aroused from a four hour sleep by a chorus of "Happy Birthday" which I thought was a dream, but it turned out to be real. The first thing I did when I realized something was going on was feel to see if my front tooth was missing because I had just been dreaming that it fell out while. I was eating corn on the cob.

The tooth was there, so I got up to blow out 21 candles on my birthday cake. So it was real. They were two days late, and it was 6:30 in the morning for some reason (they had originally planned a ft a.in, awakening but no one made it on time), but it was a real party. By the lime we finished cake and opening gifts (which amounted to a l-shirl. a glass, a bottle of Mateus.

a pair of earrings and an Oscar Meyer weinelT ring), the sun was up and it was time lor breakfast. So there we were, six of us sil tine (some slumping) at the table trying lo remain conscious or at least maintain an upright position. One member of oui team was up most of the night sludini for two tests, and another working on papers. The third male had slept about three hours. All in all we were hardly in any shape lo be eating.

Next to us sat a table full of local men who evidently met there every morning for breakfast before going to work. They were quite surprised lo see us trudging in at such an hour. Most of them were middle-aged men. but one younger fellow appeared to be keeping the conversation going. "Well, they're not living together anymore." he said.

"She's living with Fred and I heard he is But then I heard that her sister isn't with her husband anymore either." he continued as he tried to account for the episodes with the motions of his hands and counting the people on his Fingers. "But I heard that her sister was back living with her husband now. After all. they have children." someone else replied to his story, Maybe so," the younger felluw said, "but that's the story got." Our breakfast came. I realized that I hadn't eaten that early in the morning for neai ly eight months.

I suddenly became a little nauseous at the thought of scrambled eggs and grits. The remainder The Daily Tar Heel strives to provide meaningful newi interpretations and opinions on its editorial page. Unsigned editorials are the opinions of the editor, while letters and columns represent only the views of individual contributors..