'Enjoy a fabulous learning experience while getting paid!"No, that's not a help-wanted ad from the glamorous world of telemarketing. It's a come-on for the Poynter Institute's News Reporting & Writing Fellowship for College Graduates — and, exclamation points aside, it seems to be a fairly accurate description of the program. At least that's my impression from talking to the most recent crop of fellows, who met with potential employers this month at the close of their six-week session. Fourteen reporters from all over the country, most just out of college, were selected from 147 applicants for this year's program, while 16 young photographers and designers were chosen from a pool of 100 for the concurrent visual journalism fellowship. Each was awarded a $1,950 stipend and the chance to hone their skills and ponder their profession under the guidance of institute faculty.
I'd wager the fellows learned the most from working on the webzine Points South (www.pointssouth.net). Teams were assigned to regular beats in the St. Pete area, bringing back stories of homeless kids and cancer research, Laundromat life and cabaret acts, gentrification and murder, for publication on the web. Reading their work, I was struck not only by the students' solid journalistic craft — good job, Poynter — but by the freshness of their perspective.
To get a complete sense of the range and depth of this work, head for the website. But for a quick taste — limited, because of space, to excerpts from the work of a few writers — read on.
—David Warner
By Max Linsky:
"Our fucking park got invaded!"
Half-Life, a 15-year-old who has been living on St. Petersburg's streets for the last three months, is striding toward the large tree that anchors "their park." They are a diverse group of kids who choose to spend their Friday and Saturday nights somewhere other than BayWalk. And the "park" is a small tract of grass no more than 200 square feet, bordered by sidewalk on two sides, hedges on one, and the Museum of Fine Arts on the other — an insulated spot that they keep very much their own.
But the borders don't stop at the sidewalk. The kids divide themselves into groups by the bands they listen to. And they are divided by whether they sleep under a parent's roof — or in the park.
Most people taking a weekend stroll down Second Avenue N. will notice them as they approach First Street N. They will see the bright orange mohawks and the tight plaid pants. They'll see the leather and the denim. They'll see the big black boots.
And then they will probably keep walking. Quickly.
But on the Fourth of July, as thousands of people descended upon the downtown area to get a look at the fireworks, the tree, with its welcoming low arms, was simply too inviting …
From "At Park's Corner, A Community Apart"
By Laurent Clow:
Judy B. Goode takes the stage in tight black shorts and a black tank top with a silver sequined "J" over the breast. In her right hand is a microphone; tucked under her left arm is Chloe, her blind, tawny toy poodle dressed in a tuxedo.
"I've never sung to a sober group before," Goode says, before slipping into a soft, slow rendition of "New York, New York." …
From "Cleaning Days and Cabaret Nights"
By Betsy Lee:
As gas ran into his rusting, red two-door sedan, Tim Woods watched intently as the numbers clicked by. First $1, then $2, then $4.50. At $1.93 a gallon, Woods could only afford to put enough in his tank to get to the next station. Woods, who was pumping gas at Sun City Pure, 1301 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. St. S., said he rarely purchases gas south of Central Avenue because prices are higher.
"See, here's what you do," Woods explained. "You get what you need here and then when you are out up north, you fill up." …
From "Location Part of Gas Price Equation"
By Elizabeth Carr:
… Local real estate agent and unofficial historian Frank Hurley remembers when hurricanes were a celebrated event. A resident of St. Pete Beach for nearly 60 years, he recalls the "hurricane parties" popular in the '50s. Food, booze and buckling down to ride out the storm together were part of the event. Now, the parties are no longer fashionable.
These days when a warning is issued, residents of the beaches listen.
"We have been very lucky — maybe the guy upstairs smiles down on us," said Hurley. But according to predictions made at the National Hurricane Conference 2004 in Orlando, eight of 14 named storms will become hurricanes — three of which will be considered major. And St. Pete Beach is vulnerable.
Vulnerable also are the people who have to stay behind to secure the city during the hurricane. They are the people who have to stay — not to party or because they want to — but because it's their job …
From "St. Pete Beach Prepares for Hurricane Season"
By Qiana Nichol Harps:
Matthew Carter's hands are on the steering wheel.
"Maximum effort, we want the best of you," civilian training officer Jon Holtzworth urges. The clock says 0:00.
"Go!"
Carter scurries to the trunk, removes his gun and flashlight only to find that he's left his flag belt in the squad car. On the belt, one flag represents his handcuffs, the other his club. On the streets, he could lose his life for that. Today, he loses 10 seconds …
From "Aspiring Police Officers Must Pass Tests"
By Arin Gencer:
It's been a year since South Pasadena's Ten Pin Lanes had to start telling its smoking clients to go outside before they light up. Business hasn't been the same since.
"In the first month, we lost over $20,000," said Earle Gaudet, promotions manager at the bowling center on Pasadena Avenue, which also houses a restaurant and bar.
"We still have as many people bowling in our leagues," he added. But "instead of having a cocktail, food — they leave." And they're not going home, Gaudet added. They go where they can eat, drink and smoke without restriction, to local bars right down the street where smoking inside is not prohibited under Florida's newly amended Clean Indoor Air Act …
From "With the Revised Smoking Ban, Businesses Struggle"
By Laura Fries:
Thelma Riley remembers waking up to a thump. She wasn't sure what time it was — maybe three or four in the morning. It was dark. She went back to sleep. Thinking back on it now, she is not positive she even heard it. "Maybe I dreamed it," she says, "but not likely."
Around 10:30 a.m. on May 6, she heard a banging on the door outside. A woman was yelling and pounding on her neighbor's door. "Robert, let me in! I know you're in there," she heard the woman repeat. Riley went outside and asked her to leave her neighbor alone. The same woman came back later in the afternoon, with a friend. There was a radio softly playing music, but otherwise the home was quiet. Riley thought her neighbor was playing possum. She left him a message on his cell phone, saying she was next door if he wanted to talk.
Looking back, Riley now believes the thump she heard was the sound of her neighbor's body, slumping as it hit the closet floor …
From "Invisible Man: Death and Questions in Gulfport"
Contact Editor David Warner at 813-739-4854, or at david.warner@ weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Jul 29 – Aug 4, 2004.