I tell these details of "my summer vacation" not only because of the influence they had on my ability to improve Currents this year, but also because during that 12-block walk, I passed the same homeless man on the corner of G Street and 23rd every day, sitting on a short brick wall next to a clear bowl containing some change. We-that is, my roomates and I-knew the man as "Parnell," and each time our paths crossed, he greeted us with a "Hello, how ya doing?" perhaps while glancing up from his copy of The Washington Post. He appeared to eat regularly, and more importantly, despite all of our interactions-and the glaring presence of that bowl-he never asked us for money.
Near the end of the summer, I was walking back to the apartment with a high school friend who roomed with us, when the thought crossed my mind that I wanted to do something for Parnell-maybe give him some money. My friend asked me, "Well, what if he's not there?"
"Then I'm not sure if I'll leave anything."
"Why?" my friend asked.
"Because I want him to know that I gave it to him," I replied, which prompted a short debate. My friend said that a more generous person would leave the money for Parnell regardless of whether he was sitting on the corner. The mere act of giving the cash should be satisfaction enough; the good deed should stand on its own.
I understood this. And even though I threw in the wrinkle, "What if I leave the money for him and it gets stolen before he comes back?" I left Parnell a $5 bill, thus affirming the liberal-minded notion that a good deed need not be recognized-the act itself should be enough.
Although I do not think of my work with Currents as a "good deed" per se, I did make what I feel to be definitive improvements to the magazine. The relationship to the Parnell anecdote lies in the fact that the vast majority of the Duke community probably does not recognize the improvement, or even the changes; nonetheless, I am content with the job I have done and the results that I have produced.
Perhaps what has taught me most-sorry if this is starting to sound like an acceptance speech-has been my constant perusal of major magazines. The New York Times Magazine, Rolling Stone, Sports Illustrated and The Atlantic Monthly are some of my favorites and are especially good learning tools. Even Governing, which-not to brag (okay, to brag)-was recently nominated for "Magazine of the Year," was and continues to be a great learning device.
What I gleaned from my study of such magazines was affirmed during an interview with Clay Felker, a Duke grad and in many ways the father of American magazine journalism. As an editor, Felker employed a style called "new journalism," another label for literary journalism. According to Felker, his purpose in assigning and editing stories during the 1950s and on through the early '80s was to achieve "the classic English literary techniques of narrative structure, dialogue, characterization, scene setting. Above all, scene setting."
Although I never stated my own goals in such lofty terms, this was exactly the type of writing I sought to instill in my writers and editors. It was the style I attempted to employ in writing the profile of Felker, by describing the beautiful artwork, tremendous fireplace and, for those who read the piece, that awesome red-carpeted spiral staircase that led down into the living room of his seventh-floor New York City penthouse. Literary journalism is the same style that perhaps was best emulated this year in a feature on The Coffeehouse-which, along with the Felker piece, appeared in the January edition-as well as a piece on Honey's.
And for the most part, other writers and editors achieved it. For example, read Sanjay Bhatt's piece in this issue on North Carolina's medically uninsured, in which he makes something of a breakthough, talking about a policy-oriented topic by telling stories of people and places. Dave Berger and Leslie Deak take a similar approach in discussing pressure in the college coaching ranks and the freshman cross-sectional living experience respectively.
Where do I go from here? One would think that spending a total of approximately 3,350 hours (yes, I broke out the calculator) at The Chronicle during the last four years, working at summer internships, working hard in classes and thinking about journalism as much as I do, that a job would not be incredibly difficult for me to come by. But the journalism market is a tough nut to crack, and right about now, I sure could use a sledgehammer.
As for the future of Currents, Jeca Taudte, who is currently studying in France, will take over next year. She served as associate editor of the magazine last semester, as I did during my sophomore year. My hope for her is that she will break out of the mold of most previous editors; that is, break out of the mold by keeping the mold: Currents has gone through about as many changes in the last few years as Bob Dole has gone through abortion stances.
While I have made some changes myself, they seemed to be within the construct set by last year's editor, Roger Madoff. More than anything, I wanted this year to provide some stability for the magazine by helping to create a production technique that had the ability to withstand the test of time. Although all editors bring their own unique editing style to a publication, I hope that Jeca will honor the construct that Roger and I have set.
This year's volume is one I will remember fondly, perhaps because, if nothing else, I have attempted to bring Currents to a new level. Playwright August Strindberg captured my feelings well in the 19th century when he wrote the introduction to "Miss Julie." He said of the somewhat experimental form he employed, "If it fails, there is surely time enough for another!" I can think of no better sentiment with which to enter the world of magazine journalism. Now all I need is a job.
-Russ Freyman
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