Conrad Fink, journalist and educator
We left j-school thinking we had the answers, then we learned just how much we had to learn.
I learned humility when I read my first correction in a 700,000-circ paper, apologizing for an error I had made in a story.
I learned creativity when security blocked me and a photographer from entering the work site for a massive liquefied natural gas facility near Savannah, and we had to get that shot, and we had to get close to take a look; so we rented a 300-passenger tourist riverboat in Savannah and the three us (the captain, the photog and me) eased right up to the company dock and did our work.
I learned stealthiness when I melted into the background and listened to a Republican county commission chairman brag about “the things I have on tape from other county officials” to a Democratic women’s group. And that same night I learned perseverance by jumping onto the elevator right behind him, giving me 9 floors to get plenty of no comments. Secretly recorded tapes, it turned out. Search warrants and indictments followed.
I learned courage (with hesitation) when a photographer and I entered a blacks-only bar in rural Georgia in the 70s to ask how they felt about the community uproar over the fact that police were hunting for a black man suspected of killing elderly white women. It became very quiet as we eased into bar stools, and the man next to me said, “If you don’t leave now, we’re gonna kill you both and dump you out back.” Then he smiled. And we talked.
And I learned the pain of boredom spending three days outside Crestview, Florida waiting for dozens of chemical tank cars on an overturned train to blow up; they never did, which, all in all, was good. But boring.
Then came management, and now consulting, but those are stories for another day.
One thing I have learned after all this is you never stop learning.
And the man who has helped me continue to remember that is Conrad Fink, journalist and life-changer extraordinaire.
They call him Fink, the Finkster, Mr. Fink. A few times I have even heard him called Conrad.
He is a journalist’s journalist. A former foreign correspondent. A long career with the AP, doing time in New Delhi, London and points in between. And before all that, a Marine.
A career glimpse from a Fink Facebook post: “madame nhu, the dragon lady is dead, and i must share with you the most memorable quote of my career, which she gave me in saigon in june 1962. she had banned dancing in saigon, and i said to her, why? our soldiers come in from the field and seek relaxation in dancing. she: you americans have come to vietnam to dance with death. that, my finksters, made a story. fink”
Now he is an educator, though it’s certain he was doing his own brand of educating in the Marines and at AP.
He’s a professor of journalism at the University of Georgia, and teaches media management. Considering the state of many newspapers, he needs to be teaching not only students but the industry overall.
But the students are his immediate beneficiaries. They really like the Finkster, and have a unique rapport.
More than one student has gone to a UGA Halloween party dressed as Fink, complete with his very distinctive bushy eyebrows.
Right now Fink is at his farm in upstate New York state, dealing with prostate cancer.
His students and anyone else who knows him miss him terribly, and show it in their Facebook messages to him. A sample: “You’ve been the most important person in my writing/journalism career. I’m sure that’s a sentiment many others share, but I figured I would voice it for the class.”
Other than being a terrific, lovable guy, why the unique outpouring?
Because students know they not only like the Finkster, they need the Finkster.
The industry is struggling, and these students are the ones who will play a significant role in determining the fate of journalism as we know it today.
In Fink’s class, they learn things they don’t at other universities. They take on real-world journalism projects. It is real life; it is problem solving. It is give and take, it is debate, not lecturing to a sleepy crowd.
Fink has invited me to visit with his media management class through the years, and each time I go it is an energizing experience and makes me proud of the profession. And it makes me worry, too, since I know what Fink’s students receive is not the norm at journalism schools around the country.
I learn when I am in Fink’s class, even though I am officially there to help others learn. Conrad helped remind me that we never stop learning.
Fink, work on your health this fall, and see you in the spring.
One final thought – Fink is now 80. Last year at 79, he decided he wanted to learn to skydive and did.
That tells you even more about the Finkster.