By Lou Heldman
At the 2022 Lantern reunion, a younger alum began our conversation: “You were a legend. Is it true you lived in the newsroom for four years and never went to class?”
Not true, but uncomfortably close. I often skipped non-journalism classes and barely graduated, having failed or withdrawn from feeble attempts to learn Spanish, French, Italian, Hebrew and algebra.
There were kids like me every year, intoxicated by journalism to their academic detriment.
Remarkably, I had a clear vision in my early teens that I would go to Ohio State, report for The Lantern and go to work on a big city newspaper. And that’s what happened.
During freshman orientation, I found my way to the newsroom and met summer edition editors Jennie Buckner and Christine Jindra, who seemed more like polished professionals than college students. .
One asked me about my journalism experience in what seemed like a skeptical tone. I declared I had just concluded a strong run on my high school weekly, The Bulldog Barks. I was mortified by that silly name, even as I said it.
They told me I could come back when school started, but I shouldn’t expect much as a first-quarter freshman because The Lantern was for students already taking journalism courses.
Undeterred, or oblivious, I came back in September like an annoying little brother — think Beaver Cleaver. I was there to listen, learn and fish for assignments, no matter how insignificant. I idolized upperclassmen including Jennie, Christine, Dave Gollust, Bruce Vilanch, Jeff Tannenbaum and many more. They were journalistically competent, confident and surprisingly patient with my endless questions.
Those early days and nights in the newsroom helped shape my values, news judgment, work ethic and approach to professional relationships.
I was smart enough to be grateful in real time for the wonderful collection of characters and colleagues who inhabited my new world.
In spring quarter 1968, I bonded with fellow freshman, Jay Smith, who remains my best friend and teacher.
Working side by side in the newsroom, sitting in my apartment, riding in his little green Opel or sharing a cheap Sunday supper at the Blue Danube, every discussion with Jay became a journalism seminar.
We dissected every story: What are the ethics, the sources to call, the questions to ask, the compelling facts to get into the lede, the flow that will keep readers engaged? How do we illustrate it? What goes in the headline? Is it worth Page 1? We were learning our craft together and it was exhilarating.
I’m a lifelong two-fingered typist and those Lantern upright manual typewriters were heavy, slow and always needing new ribbons. I wrote thousands of words with Jay hovering over me, muttering about deadlines, always another damn deadline.
Every moment wasn’t about journalism. I encouraged Jay to ask out my high school friend Susan Shifres, whom he married. To their four kids, I’m Uncle Louie.
Every afternoon, that morning’s paper was critiqued by the faculty advisor at a meeting in the newsroom. This was a wonderful learning opportunity, if sometimes painful. The first time Dr. John Clarke mentioned one of my articles at a critique, he called it “sophomoric.” I thought that was good, since I was only a freshman, but then I looked it up. Not a compliment.
Bill Rogers, a thoughtful military and newspaper veteran, was the faculty advisor after Clarke. Bill and his wife had a young child, but they regularly made time to welcome Lantern staffers into their home, including after late nights at the print shop. Bill taught me a useful habit. He carried file cards in his shirt pocket to take note of every item that needed follow-up.
I didn’t need a file card to remind me that I really did need to bring my college days to a conclusion.
After a byline-packed internship at the Detroit Free Press, I was promised a full-time reporting job on the condition I get my degree. I spent my fifth year at OSU making up for lost time, hustling to get the required credits standing between me and my big city dream job. I aced a math class that was more about words than numbers and managed to pass a class in intensive German taught by an instructor who, as it turns out, had read and liked my Lantern columns. (I didn’t mention that I’d often skipped classes to write them.) And to current students I’d say: “Don’t try this at home!”
Editor’s Note: Lou Heldman (B.A., Journalism 1972) was a Lantern reporter, editor, columnist, photographer and Page 1 designer. He worked 35 years for Knight Ridder newspapers in six cities as a journalist and publisher, then 12 years for Wichita State University in roles including Distinguished Senior Fellow in Media Management and Journalism.
