I'll always remember my second, and least fluffy, assignment for The Spectrum, back in the fall of 1976. Features Editor Brett Kline saddled me with a story on Lake Erie fish: Were they safe to eat?
As a sophomore who had signed up for features, I was not the least bit interested in chlorinated hydrocarbons that might be mucking up "Lake Dreary," as it was dubbed for its grey-brown color.
Besides, I had already found my journalistic niche: fluff. My first effort – a fun, almost effortless piece about life as a transfer student in the new (but leaking) Ellicott Complex – had made the front page, with a cute graphic attached.
But, back to the fish. "This is a great story, really," I remember Brett saying, nodding and smiling as he handed me a note with the word MIREX scrawled in caps. This one will be deadly dull, I thought. This one will never make the front page with a cute graphic.
Over the next couple of days, I went to the library to look up information on lake chemicals, using the periodical indexes and microfilm machines. ("Googling it" was not an option.) Then I interviewed a biology professor who told me that current lake levels of the chemical mirex, an insecticide that had been banned by the EPA that year, were nothing to worry about. Ho hum.
In those days, the typewriters in The Spectrum newsroom were not in great shape, with stuck carriages and missing keys the norm. So it happened that I was in my (leaky) dorm room typing up the story on my automatic-return Olivetti, on deadline, when the phone rang. It was Brett.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "The DEC (state Department of Environmental Conservation) just told people not to eat fish from Lake Erie. Levels of mirex are too high."
Thinking my article was now moot, I explained that a professor had just said the fish were OK. Was I off the hook?
"Get in here, right now," Brett said. "This is called breaking news."
With a rewrite of my lede, the story about lake chemicals became top campus news that week – and a slight embarrassment to the bio professor. I don't remember if it made the front page. But I do remember the realization that "feature" does not automatically mean "fluff." Sometimes, it can even mean "news."
Brett Kline and other Spectrum editors like Jay Rosen and John Reiss were fellow students, but they were also among the journalism colleagues who would continue to shape me as a features reporter, as features editor and later as managing editor. Under the guidance of our Spectrum advisor, teaching assistant Michael Sartisky, we refused to let each other off the hook when it came to getting the story, and going deep.
In April 1979, when an accident at the Three Mile Island nuclear reactor threatened to release radiation into the countryside near Harrisburg, Pa., The Spectrum sent a team of three reporters and two photographers to cover the scene in the streets and at the state Capitol building. My "feature" on a local woman and her concerns opened my eyes to the personal nature of dependence on nuclear power.
Ironically, the accident at Three Mile Island occurred 12 days after the release of the movie The China Syndrome, starring Jane Fonda and Michael Douglas. Antinuclear sentiment was running high on campus and in May 1979, The Spectrum took the lead in chartering buses to Washington, D.C., for a No Nukes demonstration on the steps of the U.S. Capitol. Again, a weighty topic was able to be presented in a meaningful way through feature articles about the rally.
Of course, not all Spectrum features in the late 1970s were meaty. We covered the advent of frozen yogurt and mopeds; introduced a recipe column called The Impoverished Chef, and published fashion photo spreads from time to time. I joined the ranks of campus security for a "day in the life" feature, which resulted in the addition of a regular Spectrum Police Blotter listing of on-campus incidents.
And then there was The Blizzard of 1977, a Lake Erie storm that caused drifts of snow up to 30 feet high, and took the wind-chill factor to 60 below. My feature on how to survive an upstate winter? I thought it could be something light, with a lot of earthy Buffalo-style humor thrown in.
Then people started perishing: 23, in fact, died of blizzard-related causes. So much for fluff.
Email: alumni@ubspectrum.com
