[Congressional Record Volume 146, Number 135 (Wednesday, October 25, 2000)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1941-E1943]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                    HONORING JIM BARBIERI OF INDIANA

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. MARK E. SOUDER

                               of indiana

                    in the house of representatives

                      Wednesday, October 25, 2000

  Mr. SOUDER. Mr. Speaker, Bluffton, Indiana is not a large city. It is 
a small city nestled in the bluffs above the Wabash River in Indiana. 
It has grown to serve the surrounding prime agricultural land of Wells 
County.
  Bluffton is renowned throughout Indiana and the country for its 
extraordinary newspaper. It doesn't have lots of color pictures and 
fancy charts. But it is stuffed with real news, in great detail, and 
topped by the world's most comprehensive headlines.
  This is largely the product of Jim Barbieri, a throwback to earlier 
days of local journalism. An aggressive advocate, and when needed, 
critic of the local community, Jim is also active in State and National 
issues. But even in small-town Indiana, he also brings a world 
perspective.
  His writing is thorough and fair. But it is also much more. Jim 
captures the room, the people in it, and the context of the debate. 
When one reads the Bluffton News-Banner it is though you had been at 
each event. Except that often, you learn a lot more from the article 
about the meeting then you learn at the meeting.
  Recently Jim Barbieri celebrated 50 years at the Bluffton News-
Banner. That itself is a tremendous and increasingly rare, commitment. 
Think of the historical perspective provided by such a paper compared 
to the transient nature of much news today.
  I hope that journalism schools in America will use the example of Jim 
Barbieri to show that even in modern America you still can practice the 
type of community-based newspapers that anchored our Republic. I submit 
for the Record the following articles.

       Dear Jim: Congratulations on 50 years of journalism in 
     Bluffton.
       You are a living example of historic tradition of 
     influential small-town newspaper editors. William Allen White 
     in Emporia, Kansas, was an early Jim. Even the famous Niles 
     Register, chronicle and journal of record of the early 
     American Republic, was not as thorough as you.
       I know of no one in the public arena who is not astonished 
     that you can take such complete notes with so few errors. I 
     expect to read something like this:
       ``Congressman Souder, riding in a black Lexus, was in 
     Bluffton today for the third time this year. He was 
     accompanied by Mary Honegger of Ossian, who has been a senior 
     advisor to Souder since he first experienced his candidacy in 
     1994. The Honeggers have an animal clinic in Ossian that is 
     well spoken of in the area. Souder was here to discuss trade 
     with China. . .''
       In other words, Jim, your stories in the Bluffton News-
     Banner not only include what I say, when and where, but a 
     context and lots of local color. Your writing makes one 
     ``feel'' the meeting, not just get the general facts.
       And the headlines. Your headlines have more news than a 
     half-hour TV news broadcast.
       You are also a tireless advocate for Bluffton and Wells 
     County. While being a local promoter, you also have a world 
     vision. You understand that in education and commerce, the 
     competition is not just Decatur and Huntington.
       Hopefully, your tribute will help all of us to ask: Where 
     will the next Jim Barbieri come from? Are we producing the 
     young people with the curiosity and the commitment to 
     debating truth?
       Thanks, Jim, for your fundamental belief: By publicizing 
     the words of the debate, people will choose the truth.
           Sincerely,
                                                      Mark Souder,
                          U.S. Congressman, 4th District, Indiana.

                                  ____
                                  

       To my Dad. Everyone in town knows you. Or they think they 
     know you. They think you are the man with the pipe in your 
     mouth, hurrying, on his way to cover five meetings on a 
     Tuesday night. Or the man with his byline all over the paper 
     and the editorial opinions supporting most everything good in 
     this community. Or they think you are the man with possibly 
     the most trashed out car in town (unless they've seen mine) 
     or the man with the ever-present camera at every accident 
     scene or stage production or community awards ceremony. Or 
     they think you are the man they see at all hours of the 
     night, drinking coffee and reading the paper at Pak a Sak or 
     Hardees. Or they see you after you've been up all night 
     writing or hassling with the computers or out covering a 
     fire, sacked out in your chair, seemingly dead to the world. 
     And they think they know you and who you are. And most of 
     them feel lucky to know who you are.
       But I know who you really are.
       You are the man who was home every night for supper at 
     precisely 6:30 and acted delighted every time and even after 
     the billionth time, Chuck and I would jump out from behind 
     the door and ``surprise'' you. You are the man who let me 
     hide behind him when I was afraid I'd fall into the press pit 
     at the old brown Banner building.
       You are the man who must have pulled Chuck and I ``up'' the 
     hill at the State Park on a sled a hundred times over the 
     years. And Chuck really should have been walking!
       You are the man who made sure that for the ``trouble'' of 
     stopping to see you at your messy little office on Market St. 
     that I received at least 50 cents to go buy French fries or a 
     Coke at the Snug or at Rexall's. And on a good Saturday, you 
     didn't even mind when I'd stop by about eight or nine times. 
     And if I had anyone hanging out with me, they'd strike it 
     rich too. I wonder if the Snug and the Rexall's knew you were 
     a major source of income for them for years.
       You are the fastest two-fingered typist in town. And the 
     only man I know, who knew how to type at all, before the 
     advent of the computer age.
       You are the man I never ever heard utter a single swear 
     word until I was 15 and you had an ear operation and they 
     wouldn't let you out of the hospital so you could go back to 
     work. And then after that, even though you don't exactly 
     swear like a trooper or anything, you must have decided I was 
     old enough to hear them. Either that, or this is about when 
     the country commissioners started to aggravate you. :) I'm 
     not sure.
       You are the man that wouldn't let me have a paper route, 
     because ``girls don't have paper routes,'' until I lost 
     interest in it and then suddenly it seemed there were girls 
     passing paper routes. And even though I find your former 
     attitude ``sexist'' in this day and age, I'm still kind of 
     amused by it. You thought I was pretty special. I guess. Too 
     special for a paper route.
       You are the man who carried me up the stairs to bed every 
     night until I was nine (or possibly your back gave out) and 
     then went back out to cover who knows what breaking story.
       You are the man who cooked us a gourmet supper of hotdogs 
     every Sunday evening so that Mom could have a break. Because 
     Chuck really was a terrible child and Mom would just get sick 
     of him--and she needed that break.
       You are the man who was so delighted with the birth of his 
     first grandchild, that even I, her mother got sick of reading 
     about her in the paper. You are the man who is loathe to 
     leave a basketball game or a football game or a baseball game 
     in which his grandson is playing. And ever quick to point out 
     exactly when and where he made the slightest contribution to 
     the game. You are the man who passes up Colts tickets to 
     watch his grandson sit on a bench for most of a Varsity game 
     that he was lucky enough to dress for.
       You are the man who has been right there supporting his 
     granddaughter when things

[[Page E1942]]

     have been tough for her. And ready to argue with me tooth and 
     nail, if you didn't think I had the right idea on parenting 
     her or Stephen. Not everyone will stand up to me, but you 
     will.
       You are a man who finds joy in singing bird clocks and 
     dancing Santas and setting up and running your own railroad 
     every Christmas and doesn't really understand people who 
     don't share your passion for these things. (For instance, 
     Mom.)
       You are the man who took a ``break'', every day from your 
     job (when most people would have already retired anyway) to 
     stop and pack up about 48 newspapers and deliver half of 
     Stephen's route, just so you could hang out with him and 
     Jenni and Barkley and get to know them. And on the days when 
     Stephen had a sports practice or a game you would pass the 
     whole route, whether there was snow, sleet, rain or high 
     winds or water on Elm Dr. up to your waist! And you let him 
     keep all the Christmas tips to boot!
       You are the man who Barkley, the paper Beagle, howls like 
     crazy for even when just your car drives up in the driveway--
     she loves you so!
       And you are a lot more.
       So, even though I think this community should thank its 
     lucky stars they have been fortunate enough to have you in 
     their midst--and I think they should be honored that you have 
     been working with them and for them for all these 50 years 
     and they should be grateful that they've had the opportunity 
     to ``know'' you--I count myself and my children far luckier 
     than them even, because I know you as my Dad and the Grandpa 
     to my kids. And I love you!!!
                                                           Cindie.


     
                                  ____
       Dear Jim: Fourteen years ago, as a 27-year-old young man, 
     you brought me under your wing and showed me what being a 
     real newspaperman was all about. I thought I knew, having a 
     bit of newspapering in my background. But I learned that I 
     had a lot to learn.
       You showed me what real dedication is. Time and time again 
     in our first year, we worked long days together, making big 
     changes and setting new directions. Our day typically began 
     at 8 a.m. and finished at 10 p.m. Then after I, droopy-eyed, 
     waved good night to you and walked out the door, I shook my 
     head in amazement. Because I knew that you, once again, was 
     just getting started. Why, you had a newspaper yet to write!
       Indeed, you have written the News-Banner for 50 years. No 
     act of journalism is more astonishing or worthy.
       You have been courageous. Only a few people know the tough 
     calls you have made with such high integrity. You always have 
     done the best to treat every Wells County citizen the same. I 
     learned that my first month when, coming back from a weekend 
     trip, I slowed down a little late on S.R. 124. An observant 
     officer noticed the infraction. I stopped by the office to 
     tell you about the incident. You nodded, and I thought 
     nothing more of it until you printed a major story the next 
     day about all the speeding tickets issued over the weekend 
     with mine being the lead example!
       Your ability to walk down to the Post Office and back and 
     pick up two front page stories is legendary. I used to wonder 
     how you could do this, until I realized that you simply 
     remember everything. My favorite example is when we were 
     interviewing a thirty-something applicant for a computer job. 
     I began the interview process. After deciding she would do 
     the job well, I brought her to you for your approval. You 
     seemed lost in thought as I described her background. Then 
     you suddenly looked up. ``What's your name again?'' you 
     asked. She repeated her name. ``Did you go to Norwell High 
     School?'' you asked. ``Yes,'' she said. ``Did you graduate in 
     1976?'' you asked. ``Yes,'' she said. ``You did well in 
     school, didn't you?'' you asked. ``Yes,'' she said. ``That's 
     right,'' you said. ``I remember reading your name on the 
     honor roll.'' True story, Jim, But only one of many.
       Your career at the News-Banner is testimony to the amazing 
     things a single person can accomplish in a life. From meeting 
     with a half a dozen U.S. Presidents, to personally witnessing 
     the transfer of power from the former Soviet Union to the new 
     Russian Government to writing an editorial every weekday the 
     News-Banner has published for five decades, to having the 
     profound respect of every newspaperman who knows you, yours 
     has been a reporter's career in full.
       I doubt you could have hoped for anything more when you 
     walked in the News-Banner for the first time 50 years ago.
       Jim, I salute you.
                                                    George Witwer.


     
                                  ____
       Dear Jim: This has turned out to be one of the most 
     difficult notes I've ever written.
       I have come to the conclusion that this is because when one 
     tries to address such a remarkable career, there are so many 
     avenues to pursue, so many things that could be said, so many 
     adjectives that fit, that one simply struggles with where to 
     begin, let alone where it might take you.
       At last, however, the occasion is made to address just one 
     aspect: your deep love of and commitment to your profession 
     and the company you came to adopt. This commitment is so deep 
     and so complete that you can welcome someone into the fold 
     who you know will make some changes to an operation and a 
     newspaper that you've spent a lifetime building.
       While most of things we've done have received your 
     enthusiastic support, I am aware we've made changes you've 
     not agreed with, as you've voiced those concerns. There are 
     perhaps other changes that you've had concerns about of which 
     you haven't spoken, but I'd be surprised.
       At any rate, the point being of course, whether you've 
     agreed or disagreed, you've been supportive of everything 
     we've done and tried, and as everyone knows, your support is 
     never just a token word, but always 100 percent of your 
     considerable resources.
       For your friendship and support, I will be forever 
     grateful.
           Sincerely,
                                                      Mark Miller.


     
                                  ____
            Written by Jim Barbieri For 50th Family Banquet

     50 years, they've gone too soon,
     Looking back before man walked on the moon,
     Addition, subtraction, multiplication, division,
     We did them all without computer precision.
     Radio or movies our entertainment decision
     Or watch the snow on the early television.
     The then-modern News-Banner, I must confess
     Was cranking 'em out daily on a 1913 press.
     From years of sway, both fore and aft,
     Alas, it had developed a crooked shaft.
     But day by day, we met the test,
     Gathering news and ads and doing our best;
     We set metal type and remelted lead,
     Locked up the big chases and put it to bed.
     The old press grunted at its daily chore,
     And daily that shaft bent a little bit more,
     Until one day we had a Chicago official
     Look at the press and he gave a long whistle.
     In nationwide travels where he'd been sent,
     He had never met a press with its shaft so bent.
     He said this calls for a repair first class;
     He tried to bend it back but he fell on his knees.
     But being a master of the press printing craft,
     He wouldn't be defeated by a crooked shaft.
     He said they had invented a wonderful machine
     That would straighten any shaft that he'd ever seen
     It cost us a bundle to do it up right;
     To unbend our shaft took most of a night.
     But we had to admit that it really felt great
     To turn on a press with a shaft that was straight.
     Alas, no one figured that day by day
     The rest of the press had bent too in a gradual way.
     The other parts had learned where to place their trust;
     To a straightened out shaft they could not adjust.
     As the press started up, straight for the first time in 
           years,
     There was a loud eruption as it broke all the gears.
     The moral of this story is that we get shaped by our days;
     Thus a 50-year reporter also gets set in his ways.
     So that the way I work may be out of date,
     But don't try to bend me to make me go straight.
     Let me go on in my very old fashion,
     Covering the news with an old time passion.
     The style in which my career has been blest,
     To you may be faulty, but I give it my best.
     When God takes me home at the end of my years,
     He'll not straighten me out and pop all my gears
     He'll say ``you, reporter, for the sins that you bring,
     We'll take you like you are with a bent angelic wing;
     For if we rejected all bent with no more care,
     You'd never find in Heaven a crooked mayor.
     And we all know that Heaven could not run well
     Without a journalist to give them all hell.
     So in the celestial press room we bid you to trod,
     But don't ever misquote Peter or mispell God.''


     
                                  ____
                         In His Own Words . . .

       It seems like forever, and yet it seems like yesterday 
     since that June day, a half-century ago, in 1950 when I began 
     at the News-Banner.
       Maybe that is appropriate because while the 50-year period 
     has brought breathtaking changes, the task at hand daily 
     remains remarkably unchanged.
       Unlike a number of smarter people, I never formulated a 
     life or career plan. My idea of planning ahead is getting out 
     today's paper. Long range planning is tomorrow's paper.
       Working in a small city appealed to me at the start here, 
     partially because of the prior experience I had on the 
     Chicago American. I had enjoyed that Chicago experience 
     immensely and learned a lot, especially from an editor named 
     Bill Becker, who didn't write for the paper but was a 
     terrific critic and restyler of other reporting and writing. 
     I remember that when he summoned me to his desk, it was bad 
     news. He was going to rip apart what I had written and call 
     me ``Jimmy,'' neither of which I relished.
       But one great thing about working in Chicago was that 
     between about 10 p.m. and 4 a.m. daily in Chicago, about 
     everything that ever happened in the history of the world 
     happened three or four times. I had a good introduction on a 
     great variety of stories.

[[Page E1943]]

       But what appealed to me more about going to a small city 
     upon graduation from DePauw University was the opportunity to 
     do more things around the newspaper instead of one specialty.
       Particularly I wanted to learn and do advertising and 
     circulation too. While at DePauw, I had been editor of the 
     school newspaper, and we had it printed at the Greencastle 
     Banner, a daily newspaper in that small city of about 5,000 
     people. Realized then was that small dailies cover the day's 
     news around the world like big urban newspapers do, even if 
     not as intensively. The smaller daily papers also have a 
     hometown touch unmatched in the big cities but are not left 
     out of the big daily events. I also had helped with the 
     production side of our school paper and learned to set 
     headlines into metal type with a Ludlow machine.
       Here in Bluffton I had excellent teachers in Roger Swaim 
     and Orin Craven, both of whom were sticklers for doing things 
     right. Although there are many improvements in newspapers 
     today over 50 years ago, and a substantially greater quantity 
     of both news/editorial and advertising copy now being 
     handled--essential to handle--it is also true that copy flows 
     into the paper today from a lot of sources without nearly the 
     stringency that was given to copy Eugene McCord and I would 
     write back in the period around and after 1950.
       In those days, we didn't have the blessing of computers and 
     the ability to tab in corrections, new information or second 
     thoughts.
       We did so with pencil on double-space-typed copy, and 
     sometimes this could make for messy looking sheets of copy--
     hen tracks, we called them.
       Believe me, when my copy had too many of these, I would 
     rush to retype so that Roger wouldn't see sloppy looking 
     stuff heading to the Linotypes, and so that Orin wouldn't 
     find any errors. They sure would let you know.
       We had four Linotypes setting news copy and a Ludlow for 
     ads and headlines display type. Most people at the News-
     Banner today have no idea of the long era in which we cast 
     the lines of news type out of lead in a factory-type 
     situation, assembling the type into page forms called chases 
     and then the husky guys lifting the chases full of type onto 
     the 1913 flatbed press. We had great craftsmen, led by 
     Charlie Anderson when I started. Charlie's brother, Earl, 
     made up our pages artfully. When President Kennedy was 
     assassinated, Earl changed the front page and reversed the 
     column rules or lines between columns that we used in those 
     days. The effect was to print thick black lines between 
     columns to carry the mourning effect. For the headline atop 
     that story, we used wood type, putting it together letter by 
     letter.
       Anyhow, although Earl passed on long ago, just the other 
     day, Earl Anderson's grandson, Brian Anderson, stopped to see 
     me at the News-Banner, and I met Earl's great-granddaughter, 
     Bethany.
       Lee Mattax in time became our superintendent, and we had 
     other great people in our production shop.
       One such person is still alive and well. You know him as 
     Joe Smekens, who came on board in the early 1960s as a 
     Linotype operator.
       Of the four Linotypes we had, three were usually on 
     straight news and one on ads. That one was the most complex 
     and Joe became very good on it.
       But to give you an idea of the vast change, when we went to 
     our new building and to photo composition in 1975, one of the 
     two photo-setters we had would produce four times as much 
     type as all four of our Linotypes put together. And today's 
     laser-printing is much faster than the photosetters.
       In the old days, when one of our Linotypes went on the 
     blink, it was a real struggle to get the paper out. You just 
     couldn't make up for lost time like you can today.
       Also, our 1913 flatbed press was much slower than the new 
     offset rotary press we acquired in 1975 with the new 
     building.
       It used to take us the good part of two hours to run eight 
     pages. Now we can run 14,000 per hour on 16 pages at a time 
     or turn out 16 pages in a half-hour or less. We also can do 
     color
       It's hard to start mentioning names without leaving out 
     people, but Mary Coffield was a star for a lot of years and 
     so was the late Marlene Holloway in our office. Kaye Ivins 
     did a lot to get us into photography in a modern way. Of 
     course, Joe Smekens has been a special hero for years, and 
     Glen Werling is a real professional in this opinion and a 
     high quality newspaperman.
       After Roger Swaim was stricken with a heart attack in 1964, 
     I had increasing duties in the management of the company and 
     this led subsequently to becoming general manager and guiding 
     the building project with the change of printing methods and 
     more.
       It is impossible to review all the countless stories worked 
     on over the years, everything from heart-tugging human 
     interest events to grizzly murders.
       I've been able to cover and question or interview six U.S. 
     Presidents, and I was in the Kremlin when the Soviet Union 
     came to an end--seeing Gorbachev go out and Yeltsin take 
     over. I was among the earliest Americans to meet with Boris 
     Yeltsin. Thus, the small city field has not lacked for big 
     coverage opportunities.
       In the course of things, I worked alongside many fine 
     persons in police and fire and EMS roles. We had our ups and 
     downs in staff situations. I was reminded just the other day 
     about an episode in the 1960s when police pursued a man they 
     were seeking eastward on Ind. 124 into the heart of Bluffton 
     and the northward on Ind. 1 at speeds up to 100 miles per 
     hour and more. When the fleeing man raced into Ossian, the 
     town was very busy with a golf dinner going on at Eve's Place 
     in the Ossian downtown. This guy hit five cars parked along 
     the street, and the impacts forced him to a stop.
       One of those whose parked car had been hit was very upset 
     at the wild driving and ran up to the suspect's auto, pulling 
     open the driver seat door.
       Up in his face came a gun, which he managed to push aside. 
     Fortunately, Trooper Boomershine had been close behind and 
     jumped into the back seat of the auto, reaching forward then 
     in subduing the suspect.
       The car had been stolen and was readily traced to a 
     Huntington County location. Police going there found the 
     owner shot to death.
       Thus, we had a murder case along with the wild episode 
     here. We had a questionable reporter at the time, and I sent 
     him to Huntington County to get the story--in fact I sent a 
     kid in our mailing department to drive him there so he would 
     find it.
       Soon the reporter came back to tell me he had no story 
     because the sheriff was too busy to talk with him. I decided 
     that when you send a reporter to a murder scene and he 
     practically trips over the body on the way back to tell you 
     there's no story, you have a problem. I sent him home and 
     finished the murder coverage myself.
       In my 50 years, I have missed only one day for health. That 
     was in 1971 when I had an ear operation for which they sent 
     me to Lutheran Hospital in Fort Wayne. The day after the 
     operation I was recuperating there, and I saw out the window 
     some police and ambulance vehicles heading into the emergency 
     area. Soon I saw a couple of Wells County cars.
       I went out into the hall and buzzed down in the elevator to 
     the emergency area, where I found out about an accident in 
     Allen County injuring severely a Wells County resident. 
     Someone down there saw me in my hospital robe and asked who I 
     was. I said ``I'm a patient on the fourth floor.''
       ``You don't belong down here,'' I was told.
       ``I'll never do it again,'' I promised and I zoomed back to 
     my room and called the story in to Roger Swaim. Thus, I 
     counted that as a work day. The next day I was out of the 
     hospital and back to the office.
       In the modern era, I've been very thankful that young 
     George Witwer, with the help of his Dad, George O. Witwer, 
     and I were able to buy the New-Banner in 1986, keeping it 
     under home ownership.
       Since we had kept going, publishing despite the Palm Sunday 
     Tornado of 1965 and the Great Blizzard of 1978, the News-
     Banner and predecessors have published every publishing day 
     without failure since the Evening News was launched in 1892.
       When we went into the new building with the new press and 
     the switch to offset printing, we closed up in the old shop 
     on West Market Street after getting out the Saturday paper on 
     Sept. 5, 1975, and opened on Monday, Sept. 7, 1975 in the new 
     operation and building.
       No one on our staff had ever worked a single day in an 
     operation like the new one. I likened it to jumping out of an 
     airplane with a do-it-yourself parachute kit, but we made it.
       We did have and do have a lot of good friends in the 
     newspaper field--in our neighboring cities and elsewhere. 
     Fred Isch, now the mayor of Decatur and doing a tremendous 
     job, was and is a tremendous friend.
       In the period since we bought the News-Banner, soon 
     afterwards adding the Ossian Journal, we have made a lot more 
     progress.
       Greatly involved in a lot of this was Michelle Moore, who 
     did a terrific job for us and is a wonderful friend. Tom 
     Hullinger was a big factor in progress we made. Jim Kroemer 
     has been a special friend in our progress.
       We managed by 1997 to pay off about a million dollars in 
     debt for the purchase of the News-Banner, the Ossian journal 
     and the modern equipment we added--the switch into laser-
     printing and into pagination. Howard ``Bub'' Jones is another 
     exceptional production artist.
       Just three years ago, we took a huge step forward by 
     gaining the services of Mark Miller, who started at Decatur 
     in 1975 and is the kind of younger era, dynamic leader most 
     needed for the present and future.
       He is also an excellent person, and I feel a very fine 
     journalist along with his super business ability.
       I consider the steadfast determination by which we have 
     kept our own press, rather than succumbing to the central 
     printing trend so many other small dailies went to, plus the 
     gaining of Mark Miller to head our company into the future as 
     the biggest pluses for the company's future.
       There are so many names unnamed in this review--great names 
     also in our progress and in my life over the past half-
     century. There isn't space to give them all, and some here 
     now might ask for raises.
       Best to say, therefore, that a lot of thanks for a great 
     half-century ride are owed to many, named and unnamed, and 
     since I'm too young to retire, it's best to look ahead, not 
     back.
       The News-Banner and life in Wells County have been and are 
     the best. I like to hope that when the time comes, I'll end 
     up working on the Celestial New-Banner, which I imagine is a 
     lot like the one here on earth.

                                                     Jim Barbieri.