MY BLOG GETS 12,000 TO 15,000

DAILY READERS

I learned journalism at the storied Akron Beacon Journal.

Its daily print circulation is below 22,000.

It’s not an apples to apples comparison -- but I am proud to be getting so many readers.

My blog focuses on building a better environment for people with disabilities, placemaking and urban photography.

It began more than a decade ago and has had nearly 1.5 million unique visitors.

WHEN TRUTH MATTERED

THE KENT STATE SHOOTINGS 50 YEARS LATER

Author Bob Giles tells the story of tireless work and unsung heroes in the newsroom of the Akron Beacon Journal, the once agenda-setting newspaper awarded the Pulitzer Prize for its coverage of the May 4 tragedy.

Giles, a young city editor at the time, went on the be an executive in editing and publishing with what then was Knight Newspapers.

Pat Englehart, the state editor in 1970, led much of the coverage of the shootings on the day of and through dozens of investigations. He was a mentor when I was in Journalism School at Kent.

Giles recounts the behind-the-scenes pluck, hard work and doggedness that had the Beacon Journal consistently beating the largest news organizations in the U.S. and the world, on countless stories that told about mistakes and dastardly behavior that spilled blood at a place of learning in Northeast Ohio.

Ohio National Guard -- Kent State -- May 4, 1970

Giles’ book also compares the trust between newspaper of record and local community a half century ago, vs. the chants of fake news and worse today.

Giles wisely notes the dire consequences of the 21^st century, where Donald Trump labels provable facts he views as negative toward him as “fake news.” 

He addresses 50 years change, culminating in an era when Trump and his authoritarian ilk recklessly betray the U.S. Constitution and label the essential free press as the enemy of the people.

He also shares the sad news that newspapers, once the bedrock and essential fourth estate, are now hamstrung with deep cuts. 

The 1970s newsroom that told the world about the horrors, blunders and cover ups at Kent State, had a staff of 150. Today, the once strong newspaper has a staff of 35.

Read my full essay at:

https://stevewright-1964.medium.com/when-truth-mattered-the-kent-state-shootings-50-years-later-d9e6b8e5ae09

Robert Giles

CELEBRATING 165,000 READERS

BEFORE THE YEAR ENDS, WE WILL HAVE MORE THAN 180,000 UNIQUE VISITORS

Thanks for reading this.

This is roughly our 1,900^th daily blog post.

Before the year is out, we will have hosted more than 180,000 unique visits to this humble blog on travel, urban issues and disability advocacy.

We started this when we were in our 40s. Now we are well into our 50s.

We first started writing for a living in 1985.

Our first job at a big daily newspaper was the Akron Beacon Journal.

That Pulitzer-winning Ohio paper reached a daily circulation peak of 176,929 in 1973.

In early 2019 at the latest, we will eclipse that circulation of a mighty newspaper where our dad worked nearly 4 decades and where we honed our craft in the 1980s while attending Kent State University.

It’s been a fun ride. More than 90 percent of the thousands of photo images shared on this site our originals that we took ourselves in Turkey, Spain, Brazil, Mexico and dozens of other places that require a passport to visit.

We have published enough words of disability advocacy to fill an entire, standalone non-fiction book.

We have shared great ideas for the built environment through affiliations with PlusUrbia Design, On Common Ground, New Mobility and dozens of other firms and publications.

We will continue to mix fun with passionate advocacy for as long as blogging is a form of online communication.

MAY 4TH, 1970, A TRAGIC DATE IN AMERICAN HISTORY

AN OPEN LETTER TO KENT STATE STUDENT, NATIONAL GUARD

SHOOTING SURVIVOR AND ACTIVIST ALAN CANFORA

I wrote this letter to Alan Canfora nearly two years ago. He was shot in the wrist during Kent State protests of the Vietnam war. He worked tirelessly to ensure that the lessons learned from Kent would never be forgotten. Because it is solely from me – no back and forth – I do not believe I’m breaking any trust by publishing it.

In these times of GOP butchers and mad man in the white house, my words embracing dissent and democracy seem more poignant than ever.

My wife, who I met with both of us were students at Kent State University, lived in a dorm that overlooked the land where innocent students were gunned down by Ohio National Guardsman during a military takeover of KSU. As a journalism student, I studied in Taylor Hall, which overlooks the site where guardsmen turned and fired on innocent (most were not even protesting the war) students – killing 4 and injuring 9.

Alan,

I don't believe we’ve ever met.

We were in the same room a few times, when I was a reporter for the Daily Kent Stater or when I was attending a May 4 observance event when I attended KSU 1983-1987.

I'm going to briefly share an all-too-familiar narrative with you.

I was only 5 when the shootings took place.

My folks were typical factory worker, striving for white collar work and leaving Akron for the exurbs of Wadsworth.

My dad served in Korea -- hated every moment of it -- but was much closer to a “my country right or wrong type,” than a “dissent is key to a Democracy” guy.

I grew up with him cursing at you on the TV. Saying you suffered an injury no greater than most do on a football field and that you made a career out of being in the wrong place at the right time.

My folks really didn't want me to go to Kent, but I was already working part-time at the Beacon Journal and I convinced my dad that Kent's Journalism School was better than Akron's -- so I got to live in Kent dorms and race to work nights at the Beacon.

I was probably far more interested in 3.2 beer, girls, pulling a B average with little sleep, impressing the Beacon newsroom bosses and earning the first college degree in Wright family history -- than I was in the bloody events of May 4.

Being a journalist and taking classes in Taylor Hall, even a beer bellied college boy couldn't really ignore the history that took place 13 years before right outside the doors of the building that housed the journalism school.  

One of the Stater editors, an older non-traditional student, was big with the May 4 Task Force, so we all got a strong introduction into the weight of the events.

I never really discussed my evolving feelings about May 4 with my dad.  He was no tyrant and not nearly as right wing as a lot of the suburban dads. But it really wasn't worth trying to convince him that what he viewed as "hippies throwing rocks" weren't at least 25% at fault for the shootings – in his way of thinking...

I always wanted to say “dad, if I gave the finger or tossed a pebble or waved a sign at a rally protesting a terrible war that killed more than we can count,” would he want me to suffer the death penalty?  Because that’s what four students got. And most were not even protesting.

But he passed away a few years ago, at least hating Vietnam casualties and feeling the Gulf Wars were a waste of time.

I just read the 67 Shots book and a flood of memories came back....from being a bring 5 year old who read the paper daily and trying to figure out what happened at Kent....to being a proud Kent grad who felt the presidents of the University --even in my day and right after my graduation -- continued to fumble the opportunities for 20K+ students to learn from the history that took place in the heart of their campus.

I read the stories in 67 Shots, about Kent housewives and workingmen sharing the "they should have killed more" sentiment. I thought about Dean Kahler (my wife, who I met at Kent, is a wheelchair user).  The only accessible dorm was Prentice, another exposure to the volunteers who lay on the ground at the candle light ceremonies to remember the dead) and his pain…some, but his resolve much more.

I thought about you living in Barberton (the school that kicked Wadsworth's butt in every sport!) and staying active in my Democratic Party.

I think about Trump and how easy it is to picture him uttering the same incendiary words that Reagan, Nixon and Rhodes did -- demonizing acts of dissent and conscience as some kind of threat to white middle class way of life.

I never have understood why right wingers tell me I should be ashamed of speaking out about wrongs in my nation -- "because soldiers died for your freedom" -- when I always thought the core tenant of that freedom is dissent, the right to assemble, etc.

I cannot fathom the amount of negative letters, phone calls, emails, screams, and worse that you have endured for nearly half a century.

I cannot imagine what it is to be the victim of a violent act, but labeled (by far too many) as the cause.

As I am now past 50, I have much more perspective than a hormonal 18 year old Kent freshman.

I pretty much know that had I been on campus in 1970, I may have hated the war, but I likely would have stayed on the sidelines.

And how ironic it is that in doing so, I would have had just as great a chance of dying in a pool of blood on my beloved campus -- as the front line protestors.

I'm glad I googled this morning and found your email.

I do not have words to express my thanks for your dedication to true democracy, to learning, to reminding generation after generation that if right wing intolerance goes unchallenged, we’ll have many more tragedies like that of May 4 1970.

Thank you for protesting the expansion of a bloody, pointless war...and thank you for making my university a place for learning about what is good and bad in America.

I've always felt that great life lessons are learned from some of the most horrible crises.

That's why I never could understand why the KSU of the 1980s, 90s, etc was so squeamish about acknowledging its history.

Perhaps, without your dedication, there would be no May 4th Center to visit – right there in Taylor Hall, where the college newspaper newsroom was located when I went to Kent.

Thanks again for being, in my vision, a true American in the most Democratic, room for dissent, sense of the word.

https://www.kent.edu/may4

http://alancanfora.com/

A TRIBUTE TO KEN WRIGHT 1935-2014 PART 12

MY DAD TAUGHT ME...TO FOCUS ON THE BIG PICTURE

Sometimes I can be the most impatient and easily frustrated person on the planet.

But a foundation of values, created by my father and polished by my beautiful wife, has taught me to get over life’s maddening setbacks while focusing on the long journey and big picture.

That is why I have used humor in my words to describe my father's influence in my life.

I understand the tears of all the people touched by the life of Kenneth Lee Wright. But I feel this is more of a celebration than a ritual of sadness. 

My dad did most everything he wanted to do, saw most everything he wanted to see and raised two sons to ages 46 and 50.

In his 70s, the healthy as a horse Midwesterner who probably missed fewer than 10 days of work in 40 years, fought a combination of maladies that robbed him of his energy and tranquility.

That suffering has gracefully ended and why I have created a dozen blog posts to remember the man who taught his oldest son to be a man...

...a man that I hope he is proud of (he always told me he was proud of me and I loved him for saying it).

I am proud of him and I will tell his good story till the day when the time comes for my body to be at restful peace forever.

A TRIBUTE TO KEN WRIGHT 1935-2014 PART 11

MY DAD TAUGHT ME...
TO DUST YOURSELF OFF AND GET BACK INTO THE BATTER’S BOX

Sorry for another sports analogy, but dad’s words and actions taught me resiliency. 

My unconventional career path has easily been marked by as many colossal failures as victory dances in the dugout.

Had my dad not taught me persistence, I'd have given up after a couple setbacks and been living under a bridge.  

Instead, I have been able to discuss Dali’s Persistence of Memory with the curator of MOMA during a private tour.

A TRIBUTE TO KEN WRIGHT 1935-2014 PART 10

MY DAD TAUGHT ME...TO CALL THE PLUMBER!


My grandpa was one of the greatest handymen in all the Great Lakes region. 

He built most of his own house and probably never paid a cent to a repair man, electrician or plumber -- because he could fix anything with his hands, no instruction booklet required.  

Dad, well, did NOT genetically inherit those skills. 

After a few broken faucets, fried electrical outlets and hammer smashed thumbs (with requisite high volume, multi-syllable cursewords that I'm pretty sure we were not allowed to repeat) -- dad proved the point that sometimes it’s best to dial the experts before even trying. Dad learned to dial the experts. 

I learned my lesson and never tried to grow up to be Mr. FixIt.  

I simply figured a way of selling enough prose and poetry to pay for the plumber.


This is a 12-day tribute to my dad, who died a few days before Thanksgiving this year, from his first-born son. 

A TRIBUTE TO KEN WRIGHT 1935-2014 PART 9

MY DAD TAUGHT ME...TO NOT GET OBSESSED WITH SPORTS

Though I would have swapped my soul to become the starting 3rd baseman for the Cleveland Indians, anybody saw me on the little league diamond knew I'm I was going to make it to the locker room, it would be as a sportswriter, not as an athlete. 

Learning how do adapt from jock wannabe to journalist allowed me to cover pro sports. Eventually, as policy advisor to the Chairman of the Miami City Commission, I helped negotiate a stadium deal with Major League Baseball to keep the Marlins in Miami.

(my clause in the contact, requiring that the Florida club renounce its 97 World Series title to the rightful champion Tribe was deleted by the baseball commissioner!).