Saturday, January 14, 2012

Goodbye to a journalism god, Conrad Fink

Today, I am sad.

I am sad for myself, I am sad for the University of Georgia, I am sad for the field of journalism, but mostly I am sad for all the future students of UGA's Grady College that will not get to be taught by Conrad Fink.

The Red and Black reported that he passed away this morning after a 20 year battle with prostate cancer. He was 80.

I took his class in newspaper management my last semester of undergrad, which would turn out to be his last full semester of teaching. I took his last class.

Now, while Fink was not the mentor to me that he was to others, the man was a legend in every sense of the word. He was a professor, but had no degrees past a bachelor's. He was a marine, a war correspondent during Vietnam, and the vice president of the Associated Press. No doctorate needed.

He taught his students from experience, with a red pen and firm voice.

On the last day of class he let us ask him questions about his life, so we made him tell us stories like his scariest moment as a journalist (being unarmed in a field hiding from the Viet Cong) and how he met his wife (when he was very young - she traveled with him as they lived all over the world together).

He pushed you, cold-called you, and questioned everything The Red and Black did (the editor-in-chief, managing editor, and three daily writers were in the class with me -one of which wrote the article announcing his death). He taught me that sometimes using the F-word is essential in reporting a story (not this time, obviously). I turned into a bashful school girl when he praised my paper on how the New York Times handles stories on terrorist groups from different religions, but almost wet myself when he would put me on the spot in class.

He was tough, no question there. If he absolutely loved your paper you would only know from him passing it back and saying, "AUSTIN. Fine work." He never failed to write a paragraph at the end of your paper in sloppy red handwriting. But he really relished in his students' success. The mere fact that he taught until he physically no longer could, at the age of 79, is a testament to his dedication to teaching. He had knowledge, he knew it, and he wanted to share it.

It's hard to explain what this man means to Grady, however if you are a Grady student you know very well. From the second you are accepted to the college, you hear students talking about Fink. His classes, his papers, his eyebrows. But I have recently come to learn that it expands way beyond UGA.

In my first few days up here at UNC, I was asked about six times whether I knew Fink - whether I'd gotten to learn from him, talked to him, been in his presence. One professor proudly pulled out a book he authored from her book shelf.

People in journalism link Grady to Fink. I have no doubt that the other wonderful professors in the college will keep the program just as high in the rankings, but there is no question that Georgia has lost something it cannot replace. I knew I was learning from someone special last spring, but I will most definitely continue to realize what he taught me for years to come.

This pretty much sums him up:

The little noise he makes in the last second is classic Fink.

And this is the link to a Washington Post article on him, appropriately pulled from the AP wire. The fact that the Post wrote about it really says something.

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