My wife, Donna, was in her sixth month when she miscarried what would have been our fourth child, and I was relieved.
Before we were married we had talked about having five children. Seven, maybe. We wanted a big family.
Our oldest, Bo, was born at the end of my sophomore year at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and was as healthy as could be, physically and mentally. Our twins, Jack and Mark, were born a little more than two years later, a month after I graduated.
Mark was just like his big bother; Jack, however, was not.
Eighteen months later, after performing a battery of tests, doctors at North Carolina Memorial Hospital in Chapel Hill told us that Jack was profoundly retarded. One of them advised us to put him in a state institution, which we did not do.
They also told us –wrongly, it turned out — that our risk of having another mentally handicapped child was one in four. That was a risk we were not willing to take and we put aside our dreams of a large family.
Donna and I were careful to use birth control but she got pregnant anyway, with an intrauterine device [IUD] in place.
That was the only time in my life that I have been truly afraid. I didn’t know if I could keep on keeping on if we had a second mentally handicapped child. I didn’t know if I could man up.
And then we lost our baby and, God help me, I was relieved.
When I went to work for The News & Observer in May 1971 it was a bit of a shock.
The Charlotte News, where I started out as an intern in 1960, required reporters to look like “ensigns standing on the poop deck” — fresh haircuts, shined shoes, and regularly cleaned and pressed suits. Clean shaves, too. No beards or mustaches allowed.
At The N&O it wasn’t that way.
When I walked into the newsroom on Day One a reporter named Rick Nichols was standing on the City Desk holding forth about something or other.
I knew Nichols — he was a good one.* We had both worked for The Daily Tar Heel when we were in school at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and he hadn’t changed. He was wearing scuffed shoes, corduroy pants that looked like he had slept in them, and a checked shirt.
I was definitely not in Kansas any more.
* * *
I laughed to myself when I heard some N&O reporters complain about having to write too many stories.
The N&O was cake compare to The News, where I interned in the summers of 1960, 1963 and 1965 and then worked full time from 1966-71.
Brodie S. Griffith, editor, The Charlotte News
At The News, if you went a day without putting anything in the paper they thought you were sick. If you went two days they thought you had quit without telling them. The editor, Brodie S. Griffith, made no bones about it. He told me, “I like everybody in direct proportion to what they put in my newspaper.”
There wasn’t a quota, exactly, but beat reporters were expected to write two or three stories a day.
* * *
The News was owned by Knight Publishing Co. and it was, how shall I say — corporate. The N&O was was owned by the Daniels Family for most of my time there and it was more like a family, especially for old heads, those of us who stayed there a lot of years.
Here’s what I’m talking about:
The N&O gave employees five paid sick days a year. That was pretty stingy I thought –state employees got 12 — but since I was almost never sick I didn’t care much one way or other. I didn’t care until I finally accumulated 100 days and was told I couldn’t accumulate any more.
Huh?
My colleagues, some of whom took a day of sick leave when they felt bad, would continue to get five days a year and I would get nothing? What if I was in a terrible automobile accident, or had a heart attack or something, and needed more than 100 days to recover? What then?
I went to see the paper’s personnel director but I got no satisfaction. So I went to see the executive editor, Frank Daniels III, whose family owned The N&O.
Frank Daniels III, executive editor, The News & Observer
“I don’t think you understand the rules,” Frank III said and I replied, “I’m quite sure I don’t understand the rules, Frank. How about explaining them to me.”
“We have two sets of rules,” Frank III said. “One set of rules for people who came to work here last week, and one set for old N&O people. If you get sick or hurt we’ll pay you until you come back to work. Now go back to work.”
* A lot of reporters can report and some of them write well. Nichols, who finished his career at The Philadelphia Inquirer, did both beautifully.
