One hundred and twenty issues, thousands of stories, millions of typos, countless late nights, and more than a few crazed reconsiderations of everything we hold dear?that is one way to boil down Georgetown journalism careers. Another is to read these stories.
This week, on their way out the door, seven long-time, graduating, writers look back on the stories and the moments that were their years here. Some are obscure, some mundane and some are ridiculous. But that’s the way memories go.
Cheers.
Organized by Liam Price
The On Going Saga of Low Power FM Radio in District
The computer that sits on the counter in the air studio of WGTB is filled with thousands of sound effects used during broadcasts each day by station staff. A click of a mouse, and a station identification begins. “WGTB,” a voice announces, “the voice of the Hilltop”.
Truth be told, the campus radio station has a fairly weak voice on the Hilltop. It has been that way since the University donated the campus radio station’s 90.1 frequency to the University of the District of Columbia in the early 1980s. After that, WGTB became WROX, and throughout the 1980s continued to exist out of Copley basement. But by the 1990s, the station had become defunct. During the mid-1990s, a group of students resuscitated the station and renamed it WGTB. But the new group had the same problem that WROX had been faced with. After the loss of the 90.1 frequency, which served listeners for miles around the campus, the radio station was essentially voiceless. Students had little hope of listening to the station, because few were able to pick it up on campus.
By the late 1990s, however, this situation seemed to be improving. The Federal Communications Commission was considering new legislation that would allow for a class of radio stations called low-power FM (LPFM) stations. Before this development, the law required that new stations be of a minimum size and pass interference requirements to make sure they did not conflict. Under this system, there was no way that a new station could be introduced in the District. To begin with, the area’s airwaves were already too crowded. Moreover, the cost of buying and building a station that met the minimum size requirements was cost prohibitive.
But LPFM legislation was presented as a way to change all that. The licenses were to be for small stations, ranging from 10-100 watts (This compares with 50,000 for the average commercial radio station). Also, the licenses would only be made available to educational and community groups, re-establishing the idea of local broadcasting. WGTB was particularly active in the fight, with then-general manager Adrian Kohn (COL ‘00) serving as a regional coordinator for the Amherst Alliance, a national group that lobbied for passing LPFM legislation. After a long fight, with rounds of comments and testimony submitted to the FCC, the new rule was implemented in January, 2000. The FCC mandated that a new class of radio stations be created with smaller wattages and reduced the interference restrictions for these stations. For WGTB, this meant the to purchase a new frequency and begin to broadcast over the air again, with a signal that would cover the area from Rosslyn to Adams Morgan. All students would again be able to listen to “the voice of the Hilltop.”
But almost immediately after the rule was announced by the FCC, an alliance of commercial stations, represented by the National Association of Broadcasters, and National Public Radio began to lobby Congress to overrule the FCC. NAB and NPR argued that the new stations would interfere with their signals, regardless of the size of the stations. After a massive lobbying campaign, the LPFM rule was killed in Congress on a largely party-line vote, with the Republicans uniting to pass the bill banning LPFM over Democratic objections.
“The GOP’s most basic tenets of aiding industry, particularly in this economic slowdown, means that neither President Bush nor legislators will likely support anything that threatens the big communications players,” said Kohn, reflecting on the ever worsening chances for LPFM adoption. “LPFM would have allowed WGTB to increase its broadcast signal radius and potential listenership. This means that local residents could have had access to a broadcast focused on the DC community with a unique viewpoint: one not focused on profits and unafraid of being left of center.” But for Kohn, the prognosis is pessimistic. “In case LPFM activists were not weary enough after losing the first battle, Michael Powell’s accession to Chairman of the FCC effectively ends any chance of LPFM for at least the next four years.”
Today, the students that run WGTB are left wondering what could have been. Although they have since moved to establish a web-based broadcast, they are still left without an on-air signal to broadcast with. For many, this means that the “voice of the Hilltop” has been essentially rendered mute.
Brenden Kredell
Justifying Identity
“I loved my Jesuit education! Georgetown must be wonderful,” effused my optometrist during a summertime visit two years ago.
The proud product of another U.S. school run by ordained members of the Society of Jesus, she was convinced?and doing her best to convince me?that there was something distinctly unique about studying at a place where one of my first-year floormates wore a collar and the architectural centerpiece of campus was a chapel.
I had recently sat through what felt like endless meetings and interviews regarding the April 1999 dismissal of four University ministers. I had also stood on the fringes of rallies and vigils, picked the brains of Catholic and Protestant students, and plied rather unforthcoming administrators for answers to the difficult questions presented by the dismissals. I nevertheless nodded politely and assured her that the role spirituality played in student life at Georgetown continued unabated.
“Heavens no! They won’t go!” The rallying cry of the student protestors outside Healy at the well-attended “Save Our Chaplains” demonstration reverberated through campus in much the same way that echoes of Georgetown’s Jesuit heritage resound in the tolling of the bell atop Dahlgren Chapel, beckoning faithful Catholics to Mass. Although a significant campus event, the furor ignited by the dismissal of the chaplains was fundamentally emblematic of the continual struggle engaged on many fronts at Georgetown between preserving the school’s Catholic and Jesuit identity and maintaining a vibrant and solidly academic institution.
The appointment of a new archbishop to the Washington diocese, the debate over whether a pro-choice group could receive campus funding, the proclamation of an apostolic directive called Ex Corde Ecclesiae: Events and discussions that might otherwise be of interest to very specific religious groups garner front-page attention at Georgetown. These events also occasionally cause the University to generate headlines on the pages of national newspapers. Should theology professors have to win the approval of church officials? Should crosses be placed in classrooms? Should Georgetown bow unequivocally to the pronouncements of the Pope? The religious identity of the University has been in an unparalleled state of flux in recent years and no simple resolution seems to be in sight.
Georgetown’s Jesuit and Catholic roots lend the school distinction among Ivy League-caliber institutions. As the past years have shown, contingent upon that uniqueness is the continuation of a certain discourse that is characteristic of a Jesuit education predicated on the development of men and women for others.
Marie Siesseger
An excuse to wander
In the heart of the Georgetown neighborhood, a black hole exercises a force over Georgetown students. The gravitational pull originates at the intersection of M Street and Wisconsin Avenue. First-year students arrive at the University expecting to use the school as their home base to explore Washington, D.C. Instead, they find themselves forever circling around the cursed crossroads of YuppieVille. They wander from Urban Outfitters to Starbucks to Georgetown Park, thinking, “Next time, I’ll spend the day in Adams Morgan/Dupont/the U St. area,” all the while becoming less and less capable of resisting the vortex.
For some of us, it’s difficult to venture outside the Georgetown area without a specific reason for doing so, especially during the first year or two of our college careers. I personally needed more than the spirit of exploration to counter the pull of the neighborhood. For me, part of the motivational trigger for trekking to other sections of D.C. was writing leisure pieces for the Voice during my sophomore year.
One of the most memorable locations that I traveled to for a review was the Ballroom in southeast D.C. Rasputina, a goth music string trio was playing at the venue. Three fellow Hoyas and I dressed up as “goth” as we could manage with our heavily Gap-based wardrobes (which entailed wearing black shirts and skirts) and headed to the show. Once at the Ballroom, I discovered a world alien to the one I inhabited at Georgetown. Goth-music devotees milled around in spiked collars and tattered lace garments. The whole experience?from the melodic sound of Rasputina’s cellos to the stimulating sight of concert attendees who would no more shop at Dean and Deluca than listen to Vertical Horizon?awakened my senses to the possibilities that exist outside the familiar Georgetown territory. Writing reviews gave me a reason to seek out these experiences as well as served to remind me why I should continue to search even in the absence of a specific reason. Lynn Poss
Initiative 59: A downer district
In the January 1998, I began to work on one of the most important stories of my career at the Voice?a cover story on Initiative 59, a D.C. initiative that would have legalized marijuana for medical purposes. Initiative 59, previously filed as Initiative 57 and defeated due to inadequate support, would have legalized the possession, use, cultivation, and distribution of marijuana for illnesses which marijuana has a medical benefit. The sponsor of the initiative, Steve Michael, co-founder of the D.C. chapter of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP) and an AIDS patient himself, had to collect the signatures of 17,000 District residents in order to get the Initiative on the November, 1998 ballot.
My reasons for writing the story were activist in nature. I supported the initiative and wanted to raise awareness of the measure within the District as well as within the Georgetown community, while noting the possible social liabilities inherent in the legalization of marijuana, even if only for medical purposes. Initiative 57, which was identical to Initiative 59, would have been placed on the ballot if only 819 more signatures had been collected in its support by December 1997. I was also compelled by the stories I heard from many HIV and cancer patients who had no legal defense or protection for their actions, when in reality all they were doing was seeking out medicine to ease the pain of their illnesses. I was particularly disturbed when Turner told me that he had once been robbed at gunpoint while purchasing marijuana to treat a close friend who died of AIDS a few years ago. Stories such as these led me to believe that the legalization of marijuana for medical purposes is primarily a patient’s rights issue and only secondarily related to the larger debate over the legalization of drugs for non-medical purposes. Michael and Turner successfully gathered the 17,000 signatures and the initiative was placed on the November ballot. Michael died of AIDS in June before he could witness the furor that the initiative would spark. Congress passed an amendment, introduced by Rep. Bob Barr Jr. (R-Ga) forbidding the District to spend any of its budget on Initiative 59 or even to count and certify the results of the referendum. The result was a 321-day delay in counting and certifying the results. Even after two signature collection drives, four lawsuits, confiscated ballots, the death of the initiative’s sponsor and a resounding affirmation of the initiative by 69 percent of District voters, Congress has continued to prevent the initiative from officially being put into law.
The significance of Initiative 59 has clearly gone far beyond a patient’s rights issue. It is an issue of self-determination for the citizens of the District of Columbia that should concern every single resident of this city, including the students of Georgetown. I think the most important realization I came to in writing this story is that students of Georgetown are residents of a city, not merely residents of a college. It is easy for students to see their time at Georgetown as a finite, four-year hiatus from true citizenship, but such an attitude robs the city of a much-needed source of activism. Perhaps if the students of the District had played a larger role in this issue, Initiative 59 may have had a smoother history.
Anita Chari
A Famous Man
The Leavey Center has a distinct smell. I’m not sure exactly where it originates from, maybe it’s a combination of things?old newspapers, Taco Bell, antibacterial cleansing agents?but walking through the double doors I’m always struck by its odor. I notice smells. I always have.
It may have been my first day at Georgetown, it may have been my fourth, I’m not sure, but my first real memory of college is standing in Elevator 10 in the Leavey Center waiting for the doors to close. I was on my way to the fourth floor, a newspaper called the Voice. My roommate told me to check it out. He said it would be a good place to meet girls.
Just as the doors were closing, someone stuck their hand through them and they reopened. I didn’t really look at the tall figure who entered but bowed my head and stared at the floor. The elevator jolted upwards.
Around the second floor my companion spoke to me. I looked up. He was a priest, old but not elderly, gaunt, almost hollow face, large glasses. He smelled of aftershave.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi,” I said.
“Do you know who I am, son?”
I had no idea.
“No, sorry.”
“I’m Father O’Donovan.”
This meant nothing to me.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Jamie.” I said.
He shook my hand. The elevator stopped at the third foor. He turned to leave but then stopped and looked at me and smiled.
“Enjoy your four years at Georgetown.”
“Enjoy yours,” I said. He laughed.
I’ve never seen him on campus again, but I would recognize him now. For the better part of my four years at the Voice I’ve heard his name looming about the pressroom in the way you might speak of someone who had died, a certain sort of reverence for our most reliable and quotable source.
To some, Leo J. O’Donovan, S.J., is only a very powerful man at a very powerful university. To me, however, he’ll always be the kind, old priest in the elevator who smelled of aftershave. I can’t ride up the Leavey Center elevator without remembering our encounter.
O’Donovan likely would not recognize me anymore. But I suppose that’s fitting?now we’re even.
James Lawrence
A shot to change everything
Nat Burton’s buzzer beater against Arkansas will always be my favorite non-personal memory of Georgetown, but my second favorite moment was even more important to the school, the basketball team and me: last year’s Big East upset over Syracuse. I had a not-so-up-close, first-hand view of the whole thing.
The scene: The basketball team was at the end of a roller-coaster season marked more by the embarrassing losses than the exciting victories. The school as a whole was in chaos. David Shick was dead. The local media descended on the campus. Vandals were everywhere. Hate reigned on campus. As a junior, the feeling of implosion seemed particularly acute because many of my friends were gone (for one reason or another). In my mind, the basketball team, with that win turned everything around.
From a basketball point of view, the win was a fulcrum. John Thompson’s arrival sent the team on a seemingly never ending rise. Allen Iverson’s early departure sent the team into a steady three-year decline. The decline ended with that game. This season’s revival started there.
It was the first time the Hoyas beat Syracuse since our class showed up. It was the first win over a ranked opponent since my first year. Sitting there in New York, looking down from the “upper press boxes,” I knew when I heard the final buzzer that Georgetown Basketball had its spring board. I didn’t even need to know how high Kevin Braswell and his teammates would go. I felt good about going to Georgetown again.
For me, the psychological benefits went way beyond that moment. The semester of terror had ended. Did a basketball game really stop the hate on campus. I doubt it, but it certainly washed the negativity out of my mind. My friends didn’t reappear, but I stopped feeling as though they had left me behind. Instead, I started feeling that they had missed the best thing that would ever happen at Georgetown.
Some people won’t admit Georgetown Basketball really ties the rest of us together. Maybe I’m clouded by my emotions, but they’re blind if they can’t see a whole campus turn on a game.
A. Hunter Hodges
Let them whine
They say that if the system is against you, you’re doing something right. I knew we were doing something right before one of my housemates woke me up. It was Thursday morning, and he had a message from Provost Dorothy Brown: Call her direct line, immediately. The number is …
Brown was angry with the Voice because on April 27, 2000, we published the names of the three finalists for the dean of students. Of course she was mad, that’s her job. And it was our job to publish the names when we got them. It is understandable that the University would want to keep the names a secret. Candidates might not want others at their schools to know that they are considering leaving. Who are we to spill the beans? But the Voice saw things in another light. As students, we think have a right to know about decisions that might change our lives. Brown, and the Hoya, disagreed.
I called Brown. She said she was upset with our decision to run the candidates’ names. I, as editor-in-chief, writer Ryan Michaels, and news editor Joe McFadden had accepted that she would be. We were, however, surprised that the Hoya also condemned our decision. On April 28 they wrote an editorial against our decision.
The best claim that Brown or the Hoya could make against our running the story, was that we had jeopardized the possibility of having students on committees such as the one that had chosen the three candidates. That’s what Brown told me in our brief conversation.
My comment, that was buried deep in a Hoya news story, was that it was interesting that Brown assumed that it was a student who had leaked the information to the Voice. She had no idea who it was. It could have been anyone on the committee. Everyone assumed it was one of the students. Jeff Jarosch
