[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 68 (Thursday, May 26, 1994)]
[Senate]
[Page S]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]


[Congressional Record: May 26, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]

 
                   TRIBUTE TO FRANCIS WILLIAM TOMASIC

  The SPEAKER pro tempore. Under a previous order of the House, the 
gentleman from Indiana [Mr. McCloskey] will be recognized for 5 
minutes.
  Mr. McCLOSKEY. Mr. Speaker, today I would like to take a moment to 
remember Francis William Tomasic, a young man from Bloomington, IN, who 
was the most recent fatality on a long list of journalists who have 
died in the combat zones of disintegrating Yugoslavia.
  In 3 years, 44 journalists have died in the line of duty in the 
conflicts in Slovenia, Croatia, and Bosnia according to the Committee 
to Protect Journalists. What that means is that the 3 years of this 
Balkan war have proven to be the deadliest in history for reporters--
deadlier for reporters than even our 10 years in Vietnam.
  Combat zones are unpredictable places, and the combat zones in the 
new Republics of former Yugoslavia may be more unpredictable than most, 
but it has been the world's press corps that has taken the risks to 
bring us a far better view of the horrible realities of this new Balkan 
war. If the members of the press corps had not daily risked their lives 
in places like Vukovar, Mostar, Sarajevo, and Gorazde, the tragedy 
would have passed unnoticed and countless thousands more innocent 
civilians would have been murdered.
  On May 1, Francis Tomasic, freelance photographer Brian Brinton, and 
reporter William Vollman were riding in a jeep which struck mines 
planted on a road north of Mostar in Bosnia-Herzegovina. The United 
Nations had denied the three assistance in trying to get to Sarajevo so 
they were trying to drive there by road and simply took a wrong turn.
  Francis Tomasic grew up in Bloomington and went to high school there. 
His father was on the faculty at Indiana University. A friend of mine 
who knew Francis well says that he was a person of ``inexhaustible 
sweetness,'' and that he was not someone who understood malice. That is 
significant because Francis was of Croatian ancestry in a place where 
hatred along ethnic lines regularly moves armies.
  In the last piece that Fran Tomasic wrote for the Bloomington Voice 
was titled ``Where Are All the Graves.'' In that 9,000 words he made 
reference to time that he spent traveling in Serbian occupied Croatia 
he wrote:

       I sensed that they were mostly trying especially hard to be 
     nice to me. I was in turn trying to be especially nice, 
     although I was partially motivated by a sense of self 
     preservation. You can't go to Vukovar, you're Croatian. If 
     you go there, the Chetniks will kill you, a friend in Zagreb 
     had said to me.
  Francis Tomasic, aged 36, was buried on May 13 next to his father on 
the island of Hvar off the Dalmatian Coast. He is survived by his 
mother Carol Tomasic and his brother Anthony Tomasic of Bloomington, 
IN.
  It seems to me profoundly important to note that Francis Tomasic was 
where he wanted to be--in Bosnia--doing what he wanted to do which was 
witnessing one of the great tragedies of our decade.

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