"...Worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood."
Frank McCourt, the winner of the Pulitzer Prize for his unforgettable memoir about growing up poor, Irish and Catholic in Limrick, died of cancer on July 19 at age 78.
McCourt's book - Angela's Ashes - is one of only two books I have read (Mitch Albom's Tuesday with Morrie is the other) where I found myself both laughing out loud and tearing up all in the space of a single page. Albom has written a moving tribute to McCourt where he remembers his friend as "wickedly intelligent."
I can identify with that. I spent a truly unforgettable day with McCourt back in the fall of 2002 when the Idaho Humanities Council - a truly wonderful organization and reoccuring gift to Idaho - brought him to Boise for the Council's annual Distinguished Lecture in the Humanities.
McCourt participated in a lunch for friends of the Council at the private The Arid Club in Boise. He was impressed with the fancy lunch and the good conversation, but really enjoyed more than anything, I believe, an hour long stop we made at Capitol High School to visit with teachers and students. Frank McCourt spent years teaching in the New York public schools before he became an overnight sensation with the publication of Angela's Ashes. He took command of the classroom at the high school, his Irish humor (frequently more than a little randy) and charm in full flower. Most of all I remember his care with the kids and his interest in what they were reading and writing.
Asked once about the most difficult aspect of teaching, McCourt said:
"Energy and patience. The gap between the adult and the kid is so great. You have to go where they are and have compassion."
Frank McCourt struck me as being like that one special teacher most of us were lucky enough to have in our lives. He is the teacher you never forget.
The haunting, yet funny lines from the opening page of Angela's Ashes keep coming back:
"When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood."
McCourt's obit in the New York Times is worth a look. And, if you haven't read Angela's Ashes, hurry and find a copy.
Being an Irishman, Frank McCourt was known to enjoy a bit of the whiskey. As I recall, he favored Bushmill's Black. Remembering the teacher and author seems reason enough to pour a little taste.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Remembering Frank McCourt
"...Worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood."
Frank McCourt, the winner of the Pulitzer Prize for his unforgettable memoir about growing up poor, Irish and Catholic in Limrick, died of cancer on July 19 at age 78.
McCourt's book - Angela's Ashes - is one of only two books I have read (Mitch Albom's Tuesday with Morrie is the other) where I found myself both laughing out loud and tearing up all in the space of a single page. Albom has written a moving tribute to McCourt where he remembers his friend as "wickedly intelligent."
I can identify with that. I spent a truly unforgettable day with McCourt back in the fall of 2002 when the Idaho Humanities Council - a truly wonderful organization and reoccuring gift to Idaho - brought him to Boise for the Council's annual Distinguished Lecture in the Humanities.
McCourt participated in a lunch for friends of the Council at the private The Arid Club in Boise. He was impressed with the fancy lunch and the good conversation, but really enjoyed more than anything, I believe, an hour long stop we made at Capitol High School to visit with teachers and students. Frank McCourt spent years teaching in the New York public schools before he became an overnight sensation with the publication of Angela's Ashes. He took command of the classroom at the high school, his Irish humor (frequently more than a little randy) and charm in full flower. Most of all I remember his care with the kids and his interest in what they were reading and writing.
Asked once about the most difficult aspect of teaching, McCourt said:
"Energy and patience. The gap between the adult and the kid is so great. You have to go where they are and have compassion."
Frank McCourt struck me as being like that one special teacher most of us were lucky enough to have in our lives. He is the teacher you never forget.
The haunting, yet funny lines from the opening page of Angela's Ashes keep coming back:
"When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood."
McCourt's obit in the New York Times is worth a look. And, if you haven't read Angela's Ashes, hurry and find a copy.
Being an Irishman, Frank McCourt was known to enjoy a bit of the whiskey. As I recall, he favored Bushmill's Black. Remembering the teacher and author seems reason enough to pour a little taste.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Cronkite...Broadcast Journalism's Gold Standard
This photo, Walter Cronkite announcing the death of President Kennedy on November 22, 1963, is probably how many of us will remember the quintessential CBS anchor.
It's been noted extensively since Cronkite's recent death at age 92, that he was a "working reporter" even as he became "the most trusted man in America" and largely invented the role of "anchorman." As a former TV reporter, who lived for the excitement of live, election night coverage, I still marvel at Cronkite's ability to maintain poise and deliver serious content while anchoring coverage of a space mission or a raucous political convention.
Among the many tributes I've seen since Cronkite's death, two stand out.
My colleague, John MacDonald, a former Associated Press editor and reporter, served up as nice a rememberance of as any I have read: http://www.newwest.net/topic/article/walter_cronkite_eyes/C559/L559/
And Pat Murphy, a former editor of the Arizona Republic, who now lives in the Wood River Valley in Idaho where he writes for the Idaho Mountain Express, had a wonderful piece about Cronkite and a dinner any of us would have enjoyed attending. http://www.mtexpress.com/index2.php?ID=2005127038
At his best, and Cronkite was frequently at his best with coverage of Vietnam and civil rights, he demanded that his "correspondents" (a revered titled at CBS) challenge the dinnertime viewer. Were, as Pat Murphy suggests, the network news divisions given a half hour every night to report what "viewers wanted to hear" or what "they needed to know?"
It was Cronkite's considered judgment - the editorial judgment of an old United Press International (UPI) reporter - that determined the story content of the nightly "broadcast" The CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite was never a "news program" or "show." Playing the role of Managing Editor, Cronkite served up what we needed to know as opposed to what might have gone down easier with a TV dinner.
Cronkite's broadcast anchored a different time, before 24-hour news cycles and endless "talking heads" on cable. It is a time long gone and Cronkite's passing begs the question: can any reporter or news organization command such respect again? More importantly, perhaps, do we news consumers care any more about Cronkite's type of content? Do we want journalism to challenge us...or give us an escape from what we really need to know?
In a 1996 inteview with the Newseum, Cronkite was asked about his regrets. Not surprisingly he had some: http://www.newseum.org/news/news.aspx?item=nh_CRON090714_2
It is a cliche that the old UPI man would have abhorred, but we'll not see his like again.
Unfortunately, that's the way it is.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Supreme Appointments...Then and Now
Welcome to The Johnson Post...
