Neal Shine's legacy in journalism
Journalism lost the most amazing reporter, editor and teacher today with the passing of retired Detroit Free Press publisher Neal Shine.
Shine was teacher, boss, editor, counselor, lunch mate, friend. I had him for a class in public affairs reporting two very early mornings a week eons ago back at the University of Detroit (before it was Mercy). He hired me at the Free Press the fall of my junior year as a copy boy, a job title I immediately objected to, and he just laughed and teased.
A consummate journalist, he knew everybody in Detroit and elsewhere, had a network of sources who would tip him off on any and every important story before it broke. He taught us to be fair, accurate, thorough and intrepid. He also taught us that we were human beings first and reporters second. It made our coverage, my coverage richer, fuller, more honest.
When I decided to go to law school, he finagled a scholarship for me so I could stay at the Free Press.
When I eventually left the Free for what was to be a two to three year hiatus, to teach at Oakland, it was difficult to tell him. But two years later, I persuaded him to begin teaching part time, and he created an ethics class that is still modeled today, though no one likely can do it better than Shine. Taking ethics from him was like walking in quicksand as he changed small facts in his evolving scenarios. Most were “ripped from the pages of a newspaper.” He made us think. He made his students think. He made us better reporters and editors and humans because of it.
When he retired for the first time from the Free Press, I lured him to a full time faculty position at Oakland University. He came tenured and ranked, Professor Cornelius Shine. He loved teaching, loved his students. And the feeling was reciprocated. A scant few months later, the Free Press lured him back as publisher. He told me that telling me he was leaving was one of the hardest things he ever did. I knew it was his dream job—from copy boy to publisher. I made him promise to come back, got him a leave of absence, and he eventually returned.
I remember my annoyance when MSU’s School of Journalism received a generous gift from the Free Press to establish an ethics lecture in his name. “Why MSU,” I asked Shine. “You are teaching here at Oakland!” He didn’t know, but he was humbled by the honor.
When the sole (at the time) journalism lab at OU was in sad need of replacement, Neal and I launched the Tin Cup Campaign. He strong armed fellow editors to raise the money to replace the computers. “I get the circulation figures,” he told them. “I know you’re making money, and we need some.” And they gave.
When I came to MSU it was only after exhaustive discussions with Neal. He encouraged me to do so. Now, I liked that Neal Shine Ethics Lecture here at MSU. I made sure we recruited speakers that he felt were relevant. People like Ellen Goodman who he’d hired at the Freep, then he helped her land a job at The Boston Globe. Her speaker fee was far higher than the budget. “Just call her.” Neal said. “Tell her it’s for me.” I spoke to her agent. She never cuts her price I was informed. I used Neal’s name and a half hour later he called back asking how much we could afford to pay.
The next year we had Dan Okrent. Another Shine alum, Dan had just finished a year as the New York Times ombudsman. He came because it for Neal.
This year Nancy Youssef, the Baghdad Bureau chief for Knight Ridder, now McClatchy Newspapers, was his preferred choice. We will be welcoming her for the Neal Shine Ethics Lecture at 4 p.m., Monday, April 16 in the Kellogg Center. It will be a bittersweet day for me as we celebrate his memory and listen to Nancy’s talk.
That’s the impact he had on people. Across Michigan, across the nation, journalism has lost the man who was the soul of a great newspaper, a truly honest, decent and kindly man. Those of us who knew him are far richer because he touched our lives.
Shine was teacher, boss, editor, counselor, lunch mate, friend. I had him for a class in public affairs reporting two very early mornings a week eons ago back at the University of Detroit (before it was Mercy). He hired me at the Free Press the fall of my junior year as a copy boy, a job title I immediately objected to, and he just laughed and teased.
A consummate journalist, he knew everybody in Detroit and elsewhere, had a network of sources who would tip him off on any and every important story before it broke. He taught us to be fair, accurate, thorough and intrepid. He also taught us that we were human beings first and reporters second. It made our coverage, my coverage richer, fuller, more honest.
When I decided to go to law school, he finagled a scholarship for me so I could stay at the Free Press.
When I eventually left the Free for what was to be a two to three year hiatus, to teach at Oakland, it was difficult to tell him. But two years later, I persuaded him to begin teaching part time, and he created an ethics class that is still modeled today, though no one likely can do it better than Shine. Taking ethics from him was like walking in quicksand as he changed small facts in his evolving scenarios. Most were “ripped from the pages of a newspaper.” He made us think. He made his students think. He made us better reporters and editors and humans because of it.
When he retired for the first time from the Free Press, I lured him to a full time faculty position at Oakland University. He came tenured and ranked, Professor Cornelius Shine. He loved teaching, loved his students. And the feeling was reciprocated. A scant few months later, the Free Press lured him back as publisher. He told me that telling me he was leaving was one of the hardest things he ever did. I knew it was his dream job—from copy boy to publisher. I made him promise to come back, got him a leave of absence, and he eventually returned.
I remember my annoyance when MSU’s School of Journalism received a generous gift from the Free Press to establish an ethics lecture in his name. “Why MSU,” I asked Shine. “You are teaching here at Oakland!” He didn’t know, but he was humbled by the honor.
When the sole (at the time) journalism lab at OU was in sad need of replacement, Neal and I launched the Tin Cup Campaign. He strong armed fellow editors to raise the money to replace the computers. “I get the circulation figures,” he told them. “I know you’re making money, and we need some.” And they gave.
When I came to MSU it was only after exhaustive discussions with Neal. He encouraged me to do so. Now, I liked that Neal Shine Ethics Lecture here at MSU. I made sure we recruited speakers that he felt were relevant. People like Ellen Goodman who he’d hired at the Freep, then he helped her land a job at The Boston Globe. Her speaker fee was far higher than the budget. “Just call her.” Neal said. “Tell her it’s for me.” I spoke to her agent. She never cuts her price I was informed. I used Neal’s name and a half hour later he called back asking how much we could afford to pay.
The next year we had Dan Okrent. Another Shine alum, Dan had just finished a year as the New York Times ombudsman. He came because it for Neal.
This year Nancy Youssef, the Baghdad Bureau chief for Knight Ridder, now McClatchy Newspapers, was his preferred choice. We will be welcoming her for the Neal Shine Ethics Lecture at 4 p.m., Monday, April 16 in the Kellogg Center. It will be a bittersweet day for me as we celebrate his memory and listen to Nancy’s talk.
That’s the impact he had on people. Across Michigan, across the nation, journalism has lost the man who was the soul of a great newspaper, a truly honest, decent and kindly man. Those of us who knew him are far richer because he touched our lives.
posted by Jane Briggs-Bunting @ 6:21 PM
1 comments
1 Comments:
After learning of Neal's death, I searched desperately for a token of tangible evidence of his presence in my life. No such luck. We briefly served on the Oakland University newspaper's board of directors together - and I'd kept in touch with emails and a couple scattered written letters after my move to Indiana. My email accounts reveal those are now gone, lost in the depths of a long-ago deleted folder. We also met in two classes during college - one being ethics, the other being feature writing. As is the most tangible piece of evidence, the purple folder from college - my Neal folder, as I fondly refer to it - contained my journalism ethics notes. It's also gone, nowhere to be found. That leads to the realization that my only remembrance of his teachings are now in my mind, and in the heart.
Neal once told me that I had all the potential in the world - if I just stood up and did what needed to be done. That lecture-like advice came from a time when I'd used some newspaper excuse to dodge an assignment in his feature-writing class, and he just shook his head and gave the written copy back to me, telling me to do it again. He gave me another chance. That advice tied directly into his ethics teachings, that you can never cut corners as a journalist. You have to get it right, and do it right. Any perception of wrongdoing is just as bad as the wrongdoing itself. It's a thought that carries over to my daily reporting world now, when turning down basketball tickets or even a cup of coffee from a source. I once carried that thought so far that I almost came to blows with a Walled Lake Schools spokesperson who wanted to buy me lunch. Shine's words rang true as I refused.
Like any mentor, you could call him at home. You had his personal email and mailing address. We came from the same town of St. Clair Shores, and he always remembered that.
This man taught me to love the newspapering business in a way I hadn't experienced before - the ethics and integrity of it all. He rekindled a passion that two other mentors had sparked in my life, and made me see the bigger picture about why we do this. Now, we have the honor of carrying on that tradition he loved so much.
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