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University Daily Kansan, October 3, 1981
Boyer
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the enormous waste of manpower and material,
and come home ready to do something about it."
"Once a bureau is created, it is there forever,
and worse yet, it creates bureaus within itself,
like roots on a tree."
On how to cut down on pollution :
"The solution—the tapering off of the number of people on earth. Surely the United States, at least, is on the threshold of mandatory birth control . . ."
On a suggestion by former Rep. Keith Sebelius
the older Americans should be utilized to run
the 2014 election.
"... when I got out of college, I was sure that I could step into any big daily newspaper and give it the management it needed. Forty-five years later, I have learned that I couldn't even have been barely adequate as editor of the Daily, and have been barely adequate as editor of the News Chronicle."
"I guess the sunsets that we see out here aren't considered art, or the rooster's crow an enlightening experience . . . And then, too, we don't get much opportunity to participate in traffic jams, walk-outs, riots and all those sophisticated pastimes . . . Like the Indians before the coming of the White Man, we live out our lives ignorant of the 'better things,' going about our business on uncongested highways, breathing pure air, viewing clean fields, listening to the birds, and taking things as they come-rather than having them forced on us."
"What do cities have?" John Boyer asked in another edittion. "Surely, they do have more
cultural events, but how large a percentage of the people care about them? They also have way too many people, all wanting to do about the same things. . . They have too much traffic, too much smog, too much crime, too many problems.
"And what does a small town have? Well, it has just about anything that a person wants, if he wants to take the initiative to make it happen. It has good schools, chances are; fine churches; good recreation; and best of all, mighty fine friends and neighbors."
And, as Bill's brother said, "Dad brought out the best in people, and helped them to accomplish more than they were able to do, by themselves."
And the writer quoted the moving words written by Boyer's son, Bill, when the elder man retired in 1970: "Uppermost in my mind, and I have a heart to share with my brother in having him as a father."
Some of the most moving of the materials sent to me for this eulogy came from editorials published when John Boyer died almost nine years ago. "Boyer was a powerful voice for western Kansas for more than four decades," the Garden City Telegram said. The writer added that from 1830 on in Scott City, "He knew about the dust, and in the successes the drought; about courage and the struggle to survive during the dark days of the Depression. He lived to see the miracle of transformation of western Kansas, from dust bowl to flourishing agricultural area."
An editor, then, who made his mark in Scott City, but who was known and loved throughout the state. We do well this morning in adding the Kansas Newspaper Editors Hall of Fame.
Kansas Newspaper Hall of Fame
1931—Solomon Miller
1931 - Solomon Miller
1931 - J.K. Hudson
1931 - Marsh M. Murdock
1931 - D.R. Anthony
1931 - Noble L. Prentis
1931 - D.W. Wilder
1931 - E.W. Hoch
1931 - John Harrison
1931 - W.E. Blackburn
1931 - Moses Milton Beck
1931 - W.Y. Morgan
1931 - F.P. MacLennan
1931 - George W. Marble
1931 - John S. Glimore
1931 - T.B. Murdock
1931 - No vote taken
1931 - Harold T. Chase
1931 - John Mack
1931 - Tom E. Thompson
1940 - E.W. Howe
1940 - C.F. Scott
1940 - Jack Harrison
1940 - B.J. Sheridan
OHN EISELE/Kansan Staff
1962—Gene Howe
1943 — E.E. Kelley
1943 — Leslie Wallace
1944 — Clark Conkling
1944 — Will Townsley
1944 — William Allen Whit
1944 — Charles H. Session
1946 — J. Frank Jarrell
1947 — David Leahy
1948 — Victor Murdock
1949 — Ewing Herbert
1950 — Clyde M. Reed Sr.
1951 — O.W. Little,
1952 — Henry J. Allen,
1953 — Gomer T. Davis
1954 — Arthur Capper
1955 — W.C. Simons
1956 — John Redmond
1957 — Jess Denilous Sr.
1958 — Charles M. Harger
1958 — Paul A. Jones
1959 — Fay N. Seaton
1960 — Frank W. Boyd
1961 — Frank Motz
1962 - John Howe
1963 - Leon N. Flint
1964 - A.Q. Miller
1965 - Earl Fickert
1966 - Arthur J. Carruth Jr.
1967 - Fred Brinkerhoff
1967 - Willard Mayberry
1986 - Beryth Shore
1987 - L.F. Valentine
1970 - Will T. Beck
1971 - Angelo Scott
1972 - John P. Harris
1973 - Marcellus M.
Murdock
1974 — Wharton Hoch
1974 — Elmer F. Beth
1974 — Mamie Bond
1974 — W.L. White
1974 — Frank W. Boyd Jr.
1979 — Drew McLaughlin Sr.
1980 — Rolla A. Clymer
1981 — John Boyer
The renovation at Flint Hall will ease the crowded conditions for University Daily Kansan staff members. Copy Chief Jane Bryant and Managing Editor Bob Schad discuss a story while copy editors work to put out the daily paper.
Kansan
improve flexibility in format. Reporting and editing students will no longer have to wait for an internship or a "real" job after graduation to get comfortable communicating with a computer.
Kansan business staff will make the paper a smoother, more modern operation.
A WELL-OUTFITTED darkroom right next to the newsroom will make life easier for photographers, and for editors trying to track down photographers when there's a need for a photo right away. Sturdy new desks and chairs and more room for reporters and editors the
Some of us may worry in sports that the new environment will somehow change the Kansan's approach to its goal of an outstanding source of University and community news. But that feeling doesn't last long. There's little hope that university students of our old newspaper can't be transplanted. The staff members who get to know both will make sure that happens.
Perhaps the worry is more jealousy or selfishness, than real concern. After all, some of us have spent entire Kansan careers-long nights of junk food and tension—in the room where we eat. We won't have the opportunity to return in 10 years and say, "Things haven't changed at all."
Newspapers
But little can be done about that. Instead, returning alumni from the Kansan's pre-electronic days will have the luxury of such comments as, "In the old newsroom..."
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said, "particularly from teachers who have students that don't read on their grade level. These students don't feel afraid to carry a newspaper around."
Thehune said it was financially beneficial for schools to supplement their texts with inpex Proof
She said she knew one teacher who had sub-saturated newspapers for textbooks in his church.
Terhune said she was concerned about the trend toward less reading and more television.
news, 10 minutes of commercials and five minutes of weather and sports.
"it worked for a television station eight years and know kids aren't reading as much," she
"I have asked students how they are going to make major decisions on their lives after watching only 15 minutes of news a day," Terhune said.
Therune said that in a typical television news broadcast, there would be about 15 minutes of
Therune said the major obstacle to establishing a training program was informing all staff about the program.
"Sometimes I kind of feel like an evangelist trying to get the word out," she said. "But even with workshops and newsletters, you just can't physically reach all teachers."
ONE OF THE PLANS to advance the program in Kansas is the Kansas Newspapers in Education meeting Oct. 29 in Salina.
Guenther said that all papers in the Kansas Press Association had been invited to attend. He
said more than 50 different newspapers would be represented at the meeting.
Guenther said that KU would be the only college present but that NIE coordinators from across the state would hold sessions.
"We have educators without journalism experience and journalists without education experience—it creates a unique situation with a lot of give and take," Guenheri said.
He said that newspapers should work together so that a "spirit of cooperation" would develop and so the NIE program would not become too narrow.
"For newspapers, the NIE program represents a kind of leap of faith." Guerneth says. But newspapers can't ignore the fact that future teachers' habits may well be formed in the classroom.
Summer internships
Sharon Appelbaum
Olathe is a booming suburb with a strong small town core.
So when I reported for the Daily News of Johnson County last summer, I covered the concerns of city life as well as the earthy life of the country.
Olathe is the county seat, and the court house there is bursting with news. I was covering the county commission just when commissioners told me that the county landfill that was to hold toxic waste.
And then there were the stories that examined Olathe's phenomenal growth—plans for a Holdmine to the south, a Jack Nielski golf house, and a public safety building on the south side of town.
I talked to a garlic farmer who was still planting the bulbs he had used when he began farming.
I picked my way through a fallen crop of apples that had been ruined in a severe haliormt, and I listened to the sorrows of the family that had worked for years cultivating that fruit.
I was either at the court house or hiking around a landfill every day for over a week.
The assignment that really thrust me into the country spirit was the Johnson County fair. It
Olathe sproted up in the mid-19th century as a small independent town, removed from the now sprawling Kansas City metropolis. Olathe still retains that country air.
I lived in Kansas City since I can reman-
der and hobbiing with cows and pigs was a new
I never dreamed I would learn so much about so many things.
The thing that made Oathe a worthwhile experience was the variety. I wasn't stuck in the same thing all the time.
Lillian Davis
But when they offered me a job selling advertising, I almost yipped in the middle of the crowd.
Two years ago, after my freshman year, I walked into Squire Publications in Leawood clutching my portfolio of high school clips. I was prepared to scrub floors just to get a job on the job.
It wan't a written position, as I had secretly hoped for, but who could be picky after only one
Slowly the money totals began building up, though, and before the summer was over I had developed several new accounts, drawn what seemed like hundreds of area layouts and put together an entertainment section of fun things to do in Kansas City.
This summer when I returned to my old job, I as confident you apprehensive about living up to your promise.
I really loved the job. I admit there were days when I would have done anything to keep from rushing from shopping center to shopping store, but now it's sort of big sale and everything seemed perfect.
More than happy to see me, the ad manager gave me some of my old accounts and informed that she wanted me to come up with plenty of creative ideas for feature spreads.
This meant that many a night I sat at home designing ads and layouts, but when it came out in black and white on Thursday it all seemed worth it.
The pressure was on.
And the people were great. In fact, they were probably the part I liked the most—just talking and getting to know my clients. It was surprising that I didn't know them, and bought, after I took the time to talk to them.
I wonder what I would have learned scrubbing floors?
Pam Howard
Getting used to Clay Center and the Clay Center Dispatch took awake, but once I was adjusted, I dreaded the thought of ever leaving. The small town pace and personal atmosphere were what I loved most. It seemed as though people were seldom in a hurry.
I took over the circulation desk for two weeks while the circulation manager was on vacation and worked the society desk while the society editor was gone. Though they weren't my favorite jobs, they gave me valuable insight into two important parts of community journalism.
But the thing I never quite got used to was the small town use for the car horn. The only use for a car horn in Clay Center is to signal friends. It still scares me when I are knotted on.
When friends ask me what I did at the Dispatch I say, "Everything but keep the books and run the press." That's probably not exactly true, but I'm not a fan of it. And the different kinds of newspaper production.
While members of the backroom staff were gone, I did the pasture for two weeks. I soon found out that it is one of those things that's not as easy as it looks.
I also learned about the darkroom's role in production and did the line shots by myself two or three times when the darkroom technician took afterwards off. Before last summer, I would have wilted if someone had asked me the difference between a DMT and a halfnegative note. I really learned a lot.
I also did a little typesetting, worked with a VDT and got some idea of how the advertising department worked. And I got quite talented at stuffing inserts
The summer was certainly anything but dull, and I came home full of stories. I am quite grateful for the opportunity I have to experience community journalism to better understand community journalism.
Brian Levinson
When I told my friends back in Boston that I was going to spend last summer in Salina, they asked me why: "What is there to do in the middle of the state, the country and all that farmland?"
At first, I could not answer them, except to say that and accepted an internship in low, low, I could put it on my resume.
By the time the summer ended, I had made many friends, enjoyed memorable experiences and, of course, greatly improved my writing and reporting skills.
I was especially fortunate to work at the Salina Journal because the paper gave its interns a great deal of freedom in choosing their assignments. It took me several weeks to fully appreciate and take advantage of that freedom, once I did, I was overwhelmed with story ideas.
One of those ideas turned into my favorite story of the summer: a column about my experiences during a day on a farm, something an easterner rarely gets a chance to do. Not only did she work in the garden, but also educated a few of my friends back east when my hometown newspaper reprinted it.
I came away from Salina with a feeling of accomplishment. I had written numerous stories on everything from a fake cow to money market funds and an old house to a new fire station.
The Journal had me do many features, too,
something I had not had much previous exposure to.
That emphasis did wonders for my writing,
making it more colorful and more lively.
It was also the first time I had to settle into a strange town alone, knowing little about the town and knowing few people. But people opened up to me and I to them in a way that made those 10 weeks in Salina a summer I will always remember.
Joe Rebein
The first thing I bought when I found out that I would have a summer internship on the High Plains Journal was a good pair of boots—the kind that would stand up to the rolling pastures of Colorado, the plateaus of Wyoming and the red clay of Oklahoma.
The boots, a burnt orange color, seemed artificially as I did my first interview with a cattle breed.
K
My feet feel all night when I got back to the motel. But I had a story.
The next morning, I had breakfast at one of the many infamous roadside cafes that dot the region. I could only guess what the morning was like, as I scrambled scrambled eggs and a bacon and cheese omelet.
That day, I interviewed farmers in Duell County, Nebr., and Sedgwick County, Colo. The first was a young sugar beet producer just getting started, and the latter was a farmer and state politician who taught me a few lessons about rhetorical flair.
After the interviews, I was out on the road again, driving the many hundreds of miles it took.
The internship was unique, I think, because of the amount of freedom the editors gave me in developing stories. I developed the stories from the time I set them up over the phone, to the actual interviews and to the headlines and cuttles.
I thought that I would be desk-bound for about a month, but my office duties were limited to the few days before I hit the road.
During the summer my boots, like my writing style, were broken in and acclimated with American agriculture. I was born on a farm, but I didn't know how much I did not know about farming.
F t