From the Publisher Christopher's Columns My perception (published Tuesday, September 18, 2007) In addition to being an avid reader, I am a committed watcher of three television shows per week: CSI, NCIS and Bones. The commonality of the three shows is the investigation of crimes. My fascination with the three shows is the way they move us, the viewer, from perception to truth, all in one hour's time. Leonardo da Vinci claimed "all knowledge begins with perception" and my experience in the newspaper business gives me an insight into this claim. It is my view that in any given news story there are three perceptions going on. There is the perception of the subject, the perception of the writer and the perception of the reader. Recognizing this basic premise begins the journey from perception to truth, though we never can make this in a one-hour time slot in our lives, such as we do in the television shows. I suspect we rarely make the transition from perception to truth because perception is a much stronger and more easily attained part of our lives than truth. Perhaps a better way to phrase it is we arrive at our own truths in our own way. If we were to substitute the word "perception" with the word "bias" we would again find three sets of bias going on in any given story. That is the bias of the subject, the bias of the writer and the bias of the reader. The subject of a story has an interest in having his/her side of the story told from his/her point of view. This is particularly true, but not limited to city councils, boards of education, county commissioners and so forth. Being a member of any public board is difficult enough without the newspaper, and by extension the public, peering over your shoulder questioning your actions. I have often noted that running a government would be a lot easier if it could be done in private, behind closed doors. However, that isn't the way it is supposed to work in our society. As a result, government tends to emphasize what it wants people to know and play down what it is uncomfortable in having people know. Even the choice of words used by people in government indicate a perception, bias, on the part of the subject being covered. Note the subtle difference between the "war on terror" and Ōthe war in Iraq." One notes a liberal bias and the other a conservative bias. I'll let you figure out which is which. The second perception, bias, comes with the writer of any given story. If we accept that journalists are human beings, then we pretty much must accept that they have inherent perceptions. When covering a subject, or government body, there is far more information available than can reasonably fit in any given story. A journalist uses his/her judgment to determine what is most important and then reports on it. A good journalist will report, a mediocre journalist will record and there is a world of difference between the two. Good journalists make the effort to lay their perceptions aside and try to cover both sides of a story in an unbiased manner. They try to explain what the story is about, what it means to the reader and why it impacts you. The final perception and, what I believe is the least recognized, is the perception, bias, of the reader. Again, because readers are human and perception is inherent in being human, each reader approaches each story from his or her own point of view. I have long believed that when someone says they like a story what they are really saying is they agree with the writer. If they disagree, they don't like the story. I have seen many studies tying a link between a liberal bias and a conservative bias in newspapers, but I have never seen a study approaching the bias of readers. My suspicion, in interacting with people over the past 26 years in the newspaper business, is there is a pretty strong bias among readers. A personÕs perceptions going into a story will shade their perception of the story and their perception of the writer, newspaper, or anything else. It is pretty easy to claim the newspaper is biased, but pretty difficult to make that same claim about oneself. Once we take the time to recognize the three perceptions going on in any given story we can come closer to finding the truth of a story. It's not easy and no one ever said it would be easy. The move from perception to truth won't unfold in the course of an hour as it does in the television shows. It doesnÕt happen that way. As a final note, it is my perception I am correct in my thinking in this. Christopher Cullis is the publisher of the Bryan Times. He can be reached by e-mail at christopher@bryantimes.com Who I amŅ a fashion trend-setter (published Thursday, September 13, 2007) I bought a new pair of shoes the other day. I bought them in Stryker at Short's Hardware and while you may not think of Short's as a shoe store, since its name is hardware, they did have a display of work-boots and I bit. The thing about new shoes is it takes time to break them in. The first week isn't so bad, but it isn't so good either. By the second week they're feeling pretty comfortable and by the third week, if you wear them enough, they "fit like a glove." Why they don't "fit like a shoe" I don't know. Eventually they can become as comfortable as an "old shoe." So it goes. I remember as a child getting new jeans. At that time new jeans were stiff and uncomfortable. We used to wash them several times before wearing them and then it would still take time to break them in. One of the modern day marvels, at least in my opinion, was the advent of pre-washed jeans. No break-in period. Just wash them once and you're good to go. I was thinking pre-broken-in shoes would be a great step toward progress, but a good pair of shoes kind of molds to fit your feet, so pre-broken-in shoes probably wouldn't work. And, anyway, it's not so hard to break them in on my own. While I wear these work-boots to work, I don't really need them to "work." I could just as easily do what I do in wingtips, cowboy boots, tennis shoes or street shoes. It really doesn't matter. My son, on the other hand, works in his work-boots and due to the nature of his job, he goes through them pretty fast. I can make my shoes last forever and usually get tired of them before I wear them out. When I first came back to the Times to work full-time, I wore a suit, tie and wingtips to work every day. A black suit, summer or winter. Eventually I decided a black suit in the summer didn't make a whole lot of sense for me since heat really bothers me. So I quit wearing a suit from Memorial Day until Labor Day, then back on went the black suit. As time went on I came to the conclusion that I didn't really care for a suit and tie, so I quit wearing them altogether. Actually, I do wear them for weddings, funerals and other important occasions. With regard to wingtips, I haven't seen anyone wear a pair of wingtips for years. Those were a staple of the business world, just as the suit and tie. I'm fairly certain you may have to be of a certain age group to even know what wingtips are when referring to shoes. Some of the really wild guys would wear two-toned wingtips, black and white or brown and white. Most days I wear a vest with my outfit. I say I wear a vest because of the extra pockets, but the reality is I think it detracts from the size of my belly. While the size of my belly has gone down over the last two years, I haven't quit wearing a vest. It has become a sort of a trade mark for me. My look, as it were. I suppose I have something of a double standard going on here. I wouldn't want my banker or my attorney to dress with the same casualness that I do. I can't really explain why that would be the case because I don't think it makes much difference regarding the quality of their work. I remember the "news" it was when Jimmy Carter, on occasion, wore jeans to work when he was president. By the time Reagan wore them when he was president it was no longer news. I have always intuitively known people have looked to me as a fashion trend setter, an avant-garde sort of guy. I suppose if I were ever elected President of the United States, vests would become quite fashionable. Well, this is enough of this. christopher@bryantimes.com So it goes for Dad at 88 (published Thursday, August 9, 2007) Years ago, when I was a junior in high school, I got a job working at Russell's Menswear in downtown Bryan. I had the fortunate experience of working for Lou Linneman and Russ Kessen and the equally fortunate experience of working with Walt Carver and Fran Creators. The job was after school on Monday through Friday and all day Saturday. Stores in those days were open until 9 p.m. on Monday and Friday. I worked through high school and some of my college years. This was a time when retail was booming around the square and beyond. I remember shoe stores, jewelry stores, hardware stores, paint stores, clothing stores, 5 & 10 stores, pharmacies, bakeries, restaurants, real estate agencies, several bars and so on. You could get a cup of coffee at the news stand, but there were no coffee shops as such back then. Of the stores that were in business at that time, only Schuck Jewelry, the Sound Shoppe, Ringer's Drug Store, Hallock Realty, Ohio Gas and Gorny's remain. Lester's Diner counts too, even though it is somewhat off the square. Sure as shooting there is one I missed, but sitting in this office I can't think of any others. Working at Russell's was as much a part of my education as going to high school. We used a real cash register and learned to count out change to the customer. Russ, Lew, Walt and Fran taught me how to deal with customers, or more accurately, how to deal with people. Something I've hung on to, although I'm not as smooth in dealing with people as I would wish. It seems I more often get tangled up in situations as opposed to making them better. I worked the Christmas season and many of the former student help came back. Denny Fox, Linda Stanley and Ed Koch were the older ones and later on Wally Koch joined as one of the younger ones. John Hatton was in my class and worked the same hours as I did. There were probably others I donÕt remember. I learned how to properly wrap a Christmas present, an art I have since lost. We folded and boxed the merchandise in tissue paper, then pulled the wrapping paper from a large roll on a spindle and wrapped it. Three pieces of tape should do. The final touch was ribbons and a bow. We learned to curl the ribbons with scissors and crease the paper along the edge of the box to get that perfect present. I don't remember what I was paid, probably minimum wage, but I do know a lot of it went back to the store in clothes I bought. It was a good deal, with the employee discount. Most of the clothes were pretty good, but the worst I ever saw was the advent of the leisure suit. They were awful. Promoted as the casual wear replacement for a suit, they usually came in lime green, powder blue or some sort of orange. White patent leather shoes and a white belt often went with the leisure suit. I didn't like them and I didn't like selling them. I think the last of them went out the door on sidewalk sale day. Russell's also sold hats and shoes. They had a display rack of hats which included some pretty top of the line hats. These days ball caps are the vogue, but back then businessmen often wore a good hat with their suits. The suits were made by Hart Schaffner and Marx. Those were good suits. I just Googled Hart Schaffner and Marx, to get the spelling correct, and the first suit on the page goes for $695. Told you those were good suits. To this day I prefer a good, black pin striped suit, preferably with a vest. That is, if I wear a suit at all. Russell's had a wonderful attic, used for storage of display racks and such. They also put things that didn't sell up there. I loved to go to the attic and rummage around to see what I could find. I remember finding some real linen handkerchiefs with the letter "C" stitched on them. I don't remember what I paid for them, but I bet it wasn't more than a quarter apiece. One of the harder lessons I learned was how fragile life is. In a period of roughly 18 months, Russ and Walt both got cancer and died. It was tough watching this process, because they both continued to work as long as they could through the treatments. I was sad when they died. Later Lew sold the store and eventually it closed. Attending the "Sidewalk Sales" this past weekend brought back many of these memories. Christopher Cullis is the publisher of The Bryan Times. He can be reached at christopher@bryantimes.com So it goes for Dad at 88 (published Friday, August 4, 2007) My dad turned 88 last Sunday and I stopped by to see him for a short time. I'm not sure he remembered me, or who I was, but he was happy to see me. Dad was born in 1919 and it is difficult for me to conceive of the world he was born into, just as I imagine it is difficult for my children to imagine the world I was born into. He graduated from high school in 1937 and his fellow classmates are holding their 70th class reunion this weekend, but he wonÕt be attending. He then went to DePauw in Greencastle, Ind., graduated in three years and headed off to World War II. He spent the first part of the war in Europe and then the second part in the occupational army in Japan. I may very well be one of those who is here because of TrumanÕs decision to use the bomb to end the war. When Dad was a child my grandparents drove an Essex across the United States to California. I remember them telling about how Grandpa and Grandma slept in the front and back seats while my Dad and Aunt Carol slept on the running boards of the Essex. I thought this was a really cool way to travel. My Grandmother's sister lived in California. While they were visiting, the EssexÕs engine blew so they were delayed getting home by several weeks while waiting for a new engine. I canÕt imagine anyone today waiting, patiently, several weeks for a new engine. I donÕt know who ran the paper while they were gone. My grandparents had a cottage at Clear Lake. One time my Dad was hitch-hiking to Clear Lake and was picked up by a father and son who were driving to California to a funeral. They asked Dad to go along to help drive and he did. He sent a telegraph from Colorado telling my grandmother where he was and asking for money. Dad said he thought the father was drinking so they needed the help. I think he just wanted to go to California. IÕm not sure what my grandmother thought. I seldom saw my Dad get angry, which is quite a feat in running a newspaper for two weeks, let alone 50 years. He would listen to people and their complaints, but it didn't rattle him. He would listen and move on. I only ever heard him swear once and that was when he didn't know I was around. He was changing a fuse, one of those screw-in fuses that don't seem to be around anymore. He said one swear word and it was a mild one at that. Dad loved to travel. He and my Mom traveled throughout the world at a time when most people didn't. They traveled to all the continents, with the exception of Antarctica. He would be pleased that one of his grandsons, Patrick, has made it to Antarctica. Most of the time he would bring a small rock or a stone from the places he visited. I have the same habit, so there's positive proof it's a genetic behavior. He would label the rock with the name of the place he picked it. One time, he was in France, where he bought three small soapstone copies of the "See no Evil, Hear no Evil, Speak no Evil" gargoyles seen on Notre Dame Cathedral. One for each of the three boys. I got the "Hear no Evil" one. Later I found the same set at Disney World, so I have a replica set of the set he bought, plus the one he gave me. I have always felt I was the lucky son because I got to work with my Dad on a daily basis. I learned much from observing him. I also watched his decline on a daily basis for about 10 years. This was the hard part. Today he is in Harborside where they take good care of him. I don't visit him as much as I did when he first went into the nursing home several years ago. Most days I think he knows I'm one of his sons, but not which one. It's been a long time since he has called me by name. However, one day several weeks ago, I visited him while he was having dinner. As I was leaving, I heard him tell the man next to him, "That was my youngest son." So maybe he does know. At least on occasion. And so he had his 88th birthday. As Kurt Vonnegut would have said, "So it goes." Christopher Cullis is the publisher of the Bryan Times. He can be reached at christopher@bryantimes.com Gone Fishin', see ya later (published Thursday, July 19, 2007) Today I'm not worrying about the price of gas, I'll gladly pay. Today I'm not worrying about the newspaper or my co-workers, they're on their own. Today I'm not worrying about the weather, it doesn't matter. Today I'm on my way north, to Canada on my annual fishing trip to Lake Kabinakagami (Kaby). IÕm thinking about the next three days of fishing. Fishing for walleye. Nearly every year I manage to find my way to Kaby. In order to get there, you need to drive north to Canada, follow Highway 17 west to Wawa and then fly further north to the lake. The flight in itself is worth a lot to me, seeing the lakes and forest from the air. One year we flew in under a low cloud ceiling and it was akin to a very long roller coaster ride, worth every penny. I first went to Kaby with my father-in-law, Al Cobb. Al's a fun guy who had an Ace Hardware Store in Montpelier. He is also a clown with the Shriners and a magician. It's fun to watch him do slight of hand tricks for both kids and adults. Other years when I go, as I am this year, I go with a group of guys. Last year I went with my father-in-law and my son, Chris. Kaby, as most will call it, is one of those 25-mile-long Canadian lakes with plenty of islands and inlets to keep a fisherman happy. There are no speedboats or jet skies, just small fishing boats. And memories. The first year I went with the group of guys, I fished with Greg Benedict for half a day, then switched to someone else in the rotation. Greg was a great fisherman and in that short morning I learned a lot from him about fishing. That was also the last time I got to fish with Greg and I surely miss him. I can't go to Kaby without thinking about him. On the years I go with my father-in-law, we get a fishing guide while in the other years we fish on our own. We usually try to pair the good fishermen, not me, with the amateur fisherman, such as me. During the morning we fish for our lunch. Lunch is usually on one of the islands. We build a fire in a grill pit. Fillet the morning catch, slice potatoes and onions real thin, put a can of baked beans and a can of corn on the fire and begin to cook. Scott Benedict generally does the cooking. The fish is thinly breaded and fried in oil. The pan is big, perhaps as round as a car tire and black as coal. The whole meal is good, much better than good, and I usually eat way more than I should or need. We clean up, rest a bit and then head out for an afternoon of fun fishing. Actually there is usually a bit of money in the pot for the winner of the biggest fish caught. Mostly I'm a donor to the pot. We generally get conservation licenses, which means that other than our lunch, we catch and release the fish. In the evenings we play cards ... and talk. If it's a clear night I try to spend a little time out doors checking out the night sky. It is so clear of light pollution and the view is amazing. The summer Milky Way is a knock out. Last year I was watching the sky ... for a long while ... and suddenly it hit me. I was seeing the constellation Draco. I had never before been able to see it. The sky is so clear that looking at Ursa Major, you can see all the stars that make up the whole bear, not just the Big Dipper as we see here. While I am not very good at it, I enjoy fishing. Watching the ones who are good at it is a great learning experience for me. Mike Spangler, who has been on several of the trips I've be on, is one of the best of them. His whole being says "fisherman" while he's fishing and yet, he's aware of all the wildlife around him. I guess while I enjoy fishing for fish, it is the fishing for memories I enjoy most. Yes, it's the memories that taste best. Christopher Cullis is the publisher of the Bryan Times. He can be reached at christopher@bryantimes.com.

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