Cite Your Sources...and Don't Be So Flippant

The year was 1977 and I was a transfer to the journalism program at Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville. I was cocky and thought highly of myself.

I remember meeting Professor Bill Ward, the head of the J-school,for the first time. My previous experience was as a cub reporter at my hometown weekly, The Bethalto American. I tried to impress him with my worldly experience. He wasn’t.

In my first reporting/writing class, he gave us an assignment----Go out onto campus…find a story…..race back into the classroom and write it before the end of the hour. Ready, set, go!

I found a man soliciting change from students standing out front of the Student Center and interviewed him about his cause. In the lead of the story, I mentioned it was 26 degrees outside. One by one students brought their copy to Professor Ward. He pointed out major flaws in their work. I felt pretty good about my story. Afterall, I was a seasoned veteran of the news game. I had published a few hundred articles for the readers of the American.

“How do you know it is 28 degrees?” Ward asked.

“I heard it on the radio on the way into school this morning,” I answered.

“That was over an hour ago-----what is your source? What was the temperature when you interviewed this man?”

I guess I looked amazed….and I half-laughed.

“Next time have attribution for your claims…..and….stop being so flippant,” Ward barked.

I was stunned. And I learned quickly that I had to be much more thorough in my reporting and writing.

A year or so passed…and I came to understand there were problems brewing in the SIUE athletic department. I had accepted a job as the sports editor of the Daily Alestle, SIUE’s newspaper. It was unaffiliated with the journalism department.

I pursued the story. For months I tracked spending within the basketball program and found thousands of dollars being used as a recruitment slush fund. Throughout the investigation, Ward did not speak to me about it, nor did he try to stop me.

I remember being approached by the university president and asked to spike the story. The basketball coach threatened to sue me if any of my work resulted in an article. It didn’t scare me because I was living at home…and only owned a black and white TV that would not maintain horizontal hold.

When the story was published, all Hell broke loose.

The coach was fired….the Athletic Director was fired…..and I won a regional investigative award and a national William Randolph Hearst award.

I later found out that Ward and the program were admonished by the university administration for allowing students to engage in investigative journalism….the kind of journalism that gave the university a black eye.

While I was basking in the limelight, I did very little in my journalism classes. That was all Ward needed to suggest I was no longer needed or wanted around the program.

I dropped out of school and worked at a grain transfer facility on the river until I found my way back to Lewis and Clark Community College and started my radio career.

For years, I resented the way I left SIUE. It was a monument of failure for me. Couldn’t even drive through. I left many good friends there….many of which have gone on to brilliant careers….all with a debt to Professor Ward.

It was only when I became an instructor did I come to understand his profound impact on me. It was years later, after a career in radio, when I became the broadcast coordinator at LCCC. Only then did I realize the impact Ward had on my life. I became quite Ward-like with many students as I pushed them on to better things.

Last week I learned Bill Ward died at the age of 85 in Reston, Virginia. We had re-acquainted ourselves through social media over the last few years. I was the recipient of several of his books and chapbooks in poetry. He sent them to me gratis, because I expressed interest in his writing projects.

All week I have read former students who have left a line or two on his Facebook page. They all have a common theme of gratitude for his demanding approach to instruction. The names evoke many memories of a heady time in my life…when dreaming was possible and the future was for the taking.

I saw myself as the next Woodward or Bernstein. Ward saw me as a J-School washout.

Don’t allow yourself to live in the past.

I never got the chance to thank Ward for kicking me out of the program.

It was a life changer.

As was Bill G. Ward.