Goodbye To A Friend
On the wall of the newsroom in the C.C. Reader's main office, there is a
collection of unusual and out-of-the-ordinary headlines, pictures, and picture
captions. These are clipped from various newspapers and magazines, and must be
extraordinarily witty, ingenious or funny to make the collection. Some observers
regard this print-gallery as something which is cleverly unique (which to our
knowledge, is a correct assessment); others see it as sheer nonsense which is as
pointless as it is stupid (which to our knowledge, is also a correct assessment--of
the people who describe it as such).
Despite the negative comments, however, the collection continued to grow. In
fact, it grew rather rapidly. From a single photograph, it had expanded to nearly
half the area of the wall, and was threatening to shortly overcome the entire
wall. . . until the fateful day of December 16, 1981.
For it was on this day that the owner and publisher of the Philadelphia
Journal, Pierre Peladeau, announced that all operations concerning the
publication and distribution of the daily tabloid would immediately cease.
Its ever-increasing circulation notwithstanding, the paper had been plagued
by financial woes throughout its illustrious four-year-and-eleven-day history. (In
fact, it had lost upwards of $l5 million.) Therefore, the announcement of its
demise was not exactly unexpected and came as no great surprise to anyone.
Indeed, many folks were expecting it, realizing that the paper's collapse was only
a matter of time. But nevertheless, it was just as devastating when it finally did
come.
When a gunman entered a Philadelphia bar and fired six shots, killing one and
wounding two others, the Journal's headline for the story read, "6 Shots and a
Bier."
Volume 16, No. 1
Pennsylvania State University
Capitol Campus
Middletown, Pa. 17057
Office—W-129
Ph0ne—(717)944-4970
Published by the students of the Capitol Campus of the Pennsylvania State
University in Middletown, Pennsylvania.
The C.C. Reader serves the following four-fold purpose: (1) To keep students
informed about their campus community; (2) To provide editorial comment on
issues facing the campus community; (3) To serve as a forum for student poetry,
photographs, graphics, cartoons, and other creative endeavors; (4) To serve as a
learning mechanism for all students interested in the journalistic process. This
includes reporting, editing, layout, typesetting, and paste-up.
Film Critic-Rick Morrison Music Critic-Eugene T. McGovern
Photography Editor-Mark W. Clauser Darkroom Technician-Steve Myers
Executive Consultant-Matthew Smith
Sports Editors-Darrell Reider, Kevin Spiegel
Staff-Gary Pellett, Sue Brown, Kathy Kern, Yvonne Harhigh, Neil Gussman
Faculty Advisor-Monica O'Reilly
The opinions expressed in this paper are those of the author(s) and are not
necessarily the opinions of the students, faculty, staff, or administration of The
Pennsylvania State University.
The C.C. Reader welcomes letters from readers. Letters intended for
publication should indicate the writer's college affiliation, if any. All letters MUST
be signed by the writer. Unsigned letters cannot be printed. However, a writer's
name may be withheld upon request. Letters should be legible (preferably
typewritten, double spaced) and any material that is libelous or does not conform
to the standards of good taste will be edited and/or rejected.
Co-Editors in Chief
William J. Neil
David J. Caruso
Circulation 2,500
January 28, 1982
For the Journal was more than a newspaper. It was a paper chock-full of clever
witticisms, punny and imaginative headlines, breathtaking photographs, exhaus
tive sports coverage, and, oh yes, a stray news item or two. It was a paper
dedicated to serving the needs of the common man. It was a paper written by
up-and-coming reporters and columnists. But most of all, it was a paper that dared
to be different. It was not afraid to publicly embarrass those who had done wrong,
be they politicians or athletes, readers or advertisers. It was not afraid to publicly
embarrass prominent leaders, be they mayors or governors, presidents or shahs,
and if need be, entire nations. And most importantly, it was not afraid to publicly
embarrass itself, oftem going out on a limb with its brash predictions of upcoming
events, be they bloody wars or presidential elections, ball games or Hollywood
marriages. Yes, to many the Journal was more than any ordinary newspaper
could ever hope to be: it was an institution.
When roofer John McCollough, who was alleged to have ties to the
Philadelphia underworld, was slain in gangland fashion, the Journal announced
the news, "Roofers' Boss Nailed."
Perhaps the most-read feature of the Journal which accounted for the paper's
notoriety was its extensive sports coverage. Billing itself as "The Biggest Sports
Section in America," and boldly boasting "Voted The Best Sports Section In
Pennsylvania" (although we were never told exactly who did the voting), the
Journal made it clear just where its priorities were. Devoted Journal readers
religiously pored over the many columns upon columns of sports data and
statistics which, admittedly, could be found nowhere else. And to these sports
fans--it was the Journal's sports section or no sports section at a 11 ...
When John Lennon was murdered in New York last January, the Journal's
headlines proclaimed, "John Lennon Killed By Beath-Maniac."
Certainly the Journal had its share of detractors. In fact, it had more than its
share of detractors. What was the complaint of these otherwise sane people? Why
were they so critical of what to many was rapidly becoming an American way of
life? In short, what was their problem?
The guess here is that they were dissatisfied with the paper's unchallenged
ability to take an event of worldwide impact—often fateful--and make us laugh at
it. To many, the Journal's often casual, often comic treatment of tragic events was
considered irreverent. But no matter what it may have been, it was surely not
that; these folks were barking up the wrong tree here. -
Because in its flamboyant technique, the Journal made us see the light side of
things, it made us laugh at seemingly hopeless situations. And it accomplished
this not by resorting to amateur sensationalism—as some publications do, The
National Enquirer coming to mind first—but by simply putting things in a
different light. The Journal carried no fabricated bizarre news stories in its pages.
All of its news stories were exactly that—reputable stories which were sometimes
made more eye-catching by the addition of a clever headline or picture caption.
Another gripe some people had with the Journal was its writers. Granted,
there were no Pulitzer Prize winners among them, but they all had one trait in
common: by using an off-beat approach in their stories, they kept us
interested . . . and reading. Names such as Stanley Green, Len Lear, Bruce Beans,
and Charles Brown will not soon be forgotten. (Now ask yourself a question here:
If your name were Charles Brown and you wrote for this fun-loving
establishment, would you sign your name as Charles? I, for one, would find it
irresistible to simply be known as "Charlie.")
Still others viewed the Journal's unique approach as arrogant and foolhardy.
The point can indeed be made that, technically, the Journal was not a newspaper.
It had news value--most of it being sports-related--but for the most part it was
meant to entertain, rather than inform us. But why complain? If it's
entertainment you were after, you bought the Journal. If it was news you wanted,
then you bought a newspaper. Or, to put this in the vernacular, there were plenty
of other fish in the sea . . .
When the United States shot down two Libyan war planes last summer, the
Journal said it all in bright red letters, "U.S. Guns Down Madman's Warplanes!!."
There were many reasons for the Journal's popularity—too many to fully
discuss here, in fact--but I would be remiss if I failed to mention its willingness to
go out on the journalistic limb and make its now-legendary predictions. This was a
paper which was not afraid to make itself look foolish. More often than not, these
prognostications concerned sports, specifically the Philadelphia franchises. And
more often than not, they proved to be wrong.
But there were events other than sports contests which occasionally
warranted some bold predicting, and front-page ones at that.
For instance, on December 16, 1981, the Journal's entire front page screamed,
"There May Be No Tomorrow For The Journal."
Unfortunately, this was one prediction which proved to be all too true.
--William J. Neil