Wednesday, July 16, 2003 4:28 PM
BY TED JOHNSON
The high-wire artist risks his life
to please the crowd, for fame,
the thrill of danger, and the pleasure of performing feats that few can do. We risk our lives, and souls,
for motives much the same, plus
the heady feel of being next to power, even wielding some ourselves.
— Highwire, by Terry Anderson
As the names and faces of journalists killed while doing their jobs flashed on a giant screen, Della Reese read the powerful words of Associated Press reporter Terry Anderson.
His prose set the tone for many poignant moments at the 45th Annual Southern California Journalism Awards at
Sheraton Universal Hotel. The
evening’s Tribute to Fallen Journalists honored 23 corre- spondents from around the world killed in 2002 and 2003.
“The names of those who die, in gold and silver, are post- ed on the press club wall,” Reese read to the silent room of 370 people, in words written by Anderson while he was be held captive in Beirut in the 1980s. “Others we carry quiet- ly, or just ignore until they are encountered in the bar— burned-out relics of too many wars.”
The video tribute, produced by journalist and Press Club board member Karen Ocamb, included footage of NBC News correspondent David Bloom, KCBS cameraman Larry Greene and Boston Globe correspondent Elizabeth Neuffer.
Michael Kelly, the editor at large of The Atlantic Monthly and columnist for the Washington Post who was killed while on assignment in Iraq, was honored posthumously with the Daniel Pearl Award for Courage and Integrity in Journalism.
James Hill, managing editor of the Washington Post Writers Group, recalled Kelly as a gifted wordsmith who wrote about ideas in new and entertaining ways. He presented the honor along with a video tribute from Nightline anchor Ted Koppel.
With Kelly’s widow, Max, at his side, Atlantic Monthly chairman David Bradley accepted the award and read from often humorous e-mails that Kelly sent him from Iraq. Max Kelly, overcome with emotion and choosing not to speak, received a standing ovation.
In one e-mail related by Bradley, Mike Kelly recounted offbeat moments embedded with the troops, including an instance when a green reporter asked an incredulous commanding officer if her suitcase with wheels would work OK in the desert sands.
Also attending were Atlantic Monthly Publisher Elizabeth Baker Keffer, actor/busi- ness manager Wayne Rogers, producer George Merlis, commentator Bruce Herschenson and Variety editor-in-chief Peter Bart. Television Week editor Alex Ben Block produced the event.
The Pearl Award was first presented last year to Ruth and Judea Pearl, in honor of their son, the Wall Street Journal correspondent who was kidnapped and murdered on assignment in Pakistan. The Los Angeles Press Club now selects each honoree in consultation with the Pearls. Proceeds benefit the Daniel Pearl Foundation.
Here is the full text of Terry Anderson’s poem:
High Wire
The high-wire artist risks his life
to please the crowd, for fame,
the thrill of danger, and the pleasure
of performing feats that few can do.
We risk our lives, and souls,
for motives much the same, plus
the heady feel of being next to power, even wielding some ourselves.
We take as many casualties, maybe more.
The names of those who die,
in gold and silver, are posted on the press club wall. Others we carry
quietly, or just ignore until
they are encountered in the bar— burned-out relics of too many wars.
You see, you cannot go on bathing
in the world’s violence unscathed,
touch so many people’s pain and grief and not be burned. Tell me you could look into a hundred children’s eyes, dark, huge with uncomprehending
pain and hunger, and purge yourself
of all you feel in a thousand words or so. So we grow our shells. Those who can’t don’t last. Some grow them all too well— the cynical, abrasive ones who
cannot feel. Perhaps they never could. They count their coups in front-page headlines, and pay in other ways.
Most of us just try to keep our balance, like the man up on the wire,
eyes fixed straight ahead,
never daring to look down.
