Newspaper Days, Part 2
I said the other day my first professional newspaper job was as a sports writer. It was the autumn of 1958, and I was writing for the high school paper. Urbana High sports were being covered for The News-Gazette by a young writer named Dick Saunders, who was promoted and asked to "name his own successor." How grand that sounds! He liked my stuff and hired me at The News-Gazette for, as I said, 75 cents an hour. To see my byline in print in a real paper for the first time was an experience not unlike winning the Pulitzer Prize. Better, probably.
You understand local sports were a big deal because the twin cities of Urbana and Champaign had a ferocious cross-town rivalry, and the University of Illinois brought the Big Ten to town. On weekends, I was assigned to cover the university swimming team, wrestling team, and so on, and I was even once in the same locker room with Woody Hayes (although we did not speak). But it was the Urbana coverage to which I gave my heart and soul, always mindful of my competition, Emil Hesse, at the Champaign-Urbana Courier.
Urbana that season had a great football team, under the "tutelage" (great sportswriting word) of Coach Warren Smith, a proponent of the Single Wing Offense. He even wrote the book on it. Privately printed, but still. The Tigers were an underdog in our conference, the Big 12 (Champaign, Bloomington, Decatur, Mattoon and so on), but were undefeated with two games to go. The season closer, of course, was always with Champaign, on a night fraught with as much drama as "Macbeth," during which cross-town romances were destroyed, fenders were bent, friendships ended, families divided. But that was still a week away.
Covering Champaign High was a veteran named Bill Lyon, two years my senior, who had a crew cut and smoked cigars and called people "Coach." He later went on to become a famous columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Bill and I would labor deep into the night on Fridays, composing our portraits of the games. We were both devoted students of Thomas Wolfe and believed no sentence could be overwritten. I was also a subscriber to the Great Lead Theory, which teaches that a story must have an opening paragraph so powerful as to leave few readers still standing. Grantland Rice's "Four Horsemen" lead was my ideal.
I would begin a story time and time again on an old Smith-Corona manual typewriter, ripping each Not Quite Great Lead from the machine and hurling it at the wastebasket. Lyon watched this performance for a couple of weeks and gave me two of the most valuable pieces of writing advice I have ever received: (1) Once you begin, keep on until the end. How do you know how the story should begin until you find out where it's going? (2) The Muse visits during creation, not before. Don't want for inspiration, just plunge in.
These rules have saved me half a career's worth of time, and gained me a reputation as the fastest writer in town. I'm not faster. I just spend less time not writing. But on one Friday night, this particular Friday night, a Great Lead was clearly called for, because, yes, the Urbana Tigers were defeated and their hopes of a perfect season destroyed.
Here is the opening paragraph I wrote, which I still have by heart:
"The glass slipper was shattered and broken, the royal coach turned into a pumpkin, and the Cinderella Urbana Tigers stumbled and fumbled and fell."
Saturday morning, I turned up at my work, assembling area high school scores, and the news editor, Ed Borman, loomed over my desk and rumbled: "Young man, that's as good a piece of writing as we've had on high school sports in quite a while." I turned back to the sports section and read my Great Lead again, for perhaps the fiftieth time, and saw myself in Grantland's footsteps.
My euphoria was shattered at school on Monday, however, when Coach Smith slammed his door on me after thundering: "From this day forward, you are banned from all Urbana sports under my jurisdiction. You can buy a ticket to the games." He left me devastated.
It was up to Stanley Hynes, our grizzled World War Two veteran English teacher and advisor of the high school paper, to negotiate a truce. I admired him enormously because he addressed his students as "Mister" and "Miss" just as if we were in college, and he smoked in the classroom.
"There has been a literary misunderstanding," he explained. "Coach Smith thinks you called him a pumpkin."
After my symbolism was sorted out, Smitty lifted the ban and my job was saved.
Now the episode should end. But Borman entered my story in the Illinois Associated Press writing competition, and it won first place in the sportswriting category. That happened in summer of the next year. My dad, Walter, had been diagnosed with lung cancer the previous spring, and was now hospitalized in the last weeks of his life. I took the framed Associated Press certificate to him, and he was proud of me, and that was a reward greater than any prize.
It was he who encouraged me to be a writer in the first place. He was an electrician for the University, who refused to teach me a thing about his trade, but told me: "I was working in the English Building today, and saw those fellows with their feet up on their desks, smoking pipes and reading books. Boy, that's the life for you!"
He was also responsible for the Chicago Daily News being delivered to our house in addition to the two local papers, and he studied all three, and told me a complete education could be had by reading the daily paper and never missing an issue of Life or the Reader's Digest. My parents actually approved of me taking a job that would keep me up until 2 or 3 a.m. Friday nights (and other nights, during basketball season). There were books in the house. We followed the news programs religiously. They set me on my way, although my mother worried, "Those newspaper reporters don't make a thing. How will you be able to raise a family?"
Coach Smith was the speaker at one of our class reunions. He recalled that long-ago season, and said "You boys were the best team I ever coached. And remember that you were covered in the Gazette by Roger here, who would go on to work in Chicago." And who called him a pumpkin.
Comments
Seriously now - you've got to put all this stuff in a book. Great stuff.
And talking about your non-film related writing, my folks found The Great London Walk, a title which had eluded me for years, at a second-hand book shop in Ankara. As a former resident - and a perennial lover - of the city, I finished it in one sitting - it's a beautiful little book.
Posted by: Ali Arikan | May 2, 2008 03:15 PM
I'm not faster. I just spend less time not writing.
Great nugget, and thanks for passing it along.
Posted by: Dan Schreiber | May 2, 2008 04:16 PM
Roger,
My son Garth, who rather recently succeeded me as editor of the Chicago Maroon wrote to alert me that you were blogging about pre history. I'm glad he did. I'm glad you are.
Of all the names of fire eating campus trodding student leaders I have been able to drop from the glory days of the sit-ins, Operation Abolition, Basic Policy Statements, SEAC conferences and Howie Philips and Barny Frank's exchanges of mutual esteem, the only name I've ever been able to drop on him which cut any ice was yours.
Thanks
Posted by: Neal Johnston | May 2, 2008 04:32 PM
When I first saw Cameron Crowe's "Almost Famous," I was greatly inspired to try and become a journalist. Then, for reasons that usually occur with young teenagers—I was only 14—I somehow lost interest. Though, every now and then, something (such as your article) triggers that desire again.
Posted by: Mark | May 2, 2008 05:31 PM
Great Stuff, Roger. The part 2 of the Life of a newspaper boy I mean. I had a teacher that said almost the same thing except more succinctly "Write, Write, and Write on". Who cares if the writing is crap as long as you keep writing you can always throw the bulk of the crap out later on, which is sound advice. Lingering on each and every word for hours creates the dreaded Writer's Block. When you starting writing, don't aspire to greatness, just aspire to make mistakes and that is where the true rewriting begins. There will always be an editor to dumb down or fashion your writing into a sound bite later on.
Posted by: Kevin | May 2, 2008 07:06 PM
We lived in Chicago for 27 years and seldom missed anything Mr. Ebert wrote in the newspaper. A trip to London in the 80s included a copy of his guide to London. Now living in Seattle and enjoying ability to read Ebert movie reviews online. I know almost nothing about journalism, except that I like to read newspapers and magazines. These journal stories are fascinating, probably because they are written by a genius.
Posted by: Max | May 3, 2008 09:50 AM
:-) I can read you all day long! Thanks for this, Roger. In times of sickness at home, it's nice to have something to relate to while dealing with all the illness here. Thanks again!
- Joseph (uber fan)
Posted by: Joseph Gomez | May 4, 2008 12:32 PM
Hey Roger,
All the best, been a fan for a long, long time.
Just discovered this blog, believe it or not, through a somewhat random 45-minute click-through at IMDB, where I ended up at "I Heart Huckabees", and then clicked on your review, then your main page. Where I discover the blog...a productive afternoon I must say.
Seriously, I am thrilled you have taken up blogging, your writing and perspective on film and the world in general is one-of-a-kind, and the fact we will now hear more of it than ever before is very exciting.
Posted by: Andruw | May 5, 2008 04:49 PM
It makes me reflect that in England, they have signs at roadside rest stops that say "No Football Coaches Allowed." Makes you wonder what they have against football coaches.
Posted by: Raymond Ogilvie | May 6, 2008 09:58 PM
Hi, Mr. Ebert ... as a fellow journalist it's a treat to read you because your love of the business really comes through.
I started out as a newspaper copy editor -- the kind I hope you would have liked; I respected reporters' language -- at a small paper near Philadelphia. I was lucky to work with an older guy of 30-plus years experience who a few years earlier was among the last standing at The Bulletin. Bob generously shared his skills and experience (and a grizzled, cynical love of the business) with anyone like me who appreciated it.
Working with great people like Bob at my first job kept me naiive -- at my second newspaper job in Poughkeepsie, a guy who came on as executive editor was a manipulative creep who crushed my self-esteem, even though I was the Page One editor every night. Sometimes the only solace I got out of that job was the satisfaction of seeing the headlines, page designs and copy I edited rolling off the press. Thankfully I was able to recover enough self-worth to sell myself to a paper in Albany where I was treated as a professional.
In '97 I transitioned to editing for the Web. Those first 11 years of my career editing newspapers taught me everything I needed to know -- most of all, that standards of integrity and credibility should never change, on a computer screen or on paper. The imformation sources that endure are the ones who respect that -- and it's no surprise that that applies to you, Mr. Ebert.
I'm glad you can still find enjoyment in life and in movies. I hope you can keep doing so for a long, long time. As you keep fighting to overcome your challenges, I'll keep hoping for the best for you. I admit to some selfishness -- I'm a die-hard original "Star Trek" fan who has respected you as someone who "gets it," and I'm looking forward to what you'll think of J.J. Abrams' retooling when it premieres a year from now. Take care, Mr. Ebert!
Posted by: DesiluTrek | May 9, 2008 09:38 AM
This is the best thing I've read all day.
Posted by: Matt Kaufman | May 9, 2008 02:05 PM
The Bill Lyon advice evokes memories of a Lewis Grizzard tale about writing leads:
Best I recall it involved a earnest young sportswriter trying to knock out a lead after an epic Georgia-Florida game at the Gator Bowl. He kept writing and ripping from his typewriter, probably cussing all the way.
Next to him, according to Lewis, was Jacksonville icon Rex Edmondson, zipping out his column nonstop while puffing on his cigar.
After the umpteenth lead was snatched from the typewriter, the sportswriter growled, "Dammit, Rex, I can't get a lead."
Edmonson, without pausing, offered the best advice I ever heard in the newspaper business: "Bill, why don't you just write what happened."
Posted by: John Futch | May 11, 2008 09:42 PM