[Congressional Record Volume 148, Number 23 (Wednesday, March 6, 2002)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page E285]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
IN HONOR OF DANIEL PEARL
______
HON. ANNA G. ESHOO
of california
in the house of representatives
Wednesday, March 6, 2002
Ms. ESHOO. Mr. Speaker, on February 21, 2002, the world learned of
the horrific and senseless murder of Wall Street Journal reporter
Daniel Pearl. An extraordinary American and a courageous and talented
journalist, Pearl was killed in the pursuit of truth. Abducted in
Karachi, Pakistan, Pearl was investigating potential connections
between alleged shoe-bomber Richard Reid and radical fundamentalists in
Pakistan. His death represents a tragedy not only for his wife
Marianne, now seven months pregnant, and their family, but for all
humanity.
Daniel Pearl's murder left an indelible mark on the world of
journalism. A colleague who had the privilege of knowing Pearl is Don
Kazak, a highly respected senior staff writer and former editor of the
Palo Alto Weekly. It was at the Weekly that Pearl, then a student at
Stanford University, began his career in journalism as an Editorial
Intern during the spring of 1984.
Mr. Speaker, I respectfully submit for the Record a tribute to Daniel
Pearl written by Don Kazak and published in the Palo Alto Weekly on
February 27, 2002. I share it with my colleagues who I'm sure will find
it as poignant and instructive as I did.
[From the Palo Alto Weekly, Feb. 27, 2002]
Our Town: ``Is That Our Danny?''
(By Don Kazak)
There is always distance between us and what we read in the
newspaper or watch on the evening news.
These are usually events happening far away, which don't
touch us.
The Sept. 11 terrorist attacks touched many, and shocked,
angered or numbed the nation, but for most there was still a
distance. As much as I felt for what happened, it was other
people, somewhere else.
And then I heard about Wall Street Journal Danny Pearl
being captured by a radical Islamist group. He had been a
reporter for the Journal for 12 years. It was a big,
international news story--but it touched me deeply and
personally, along with others at the Weekly and at Stanford
University.
Pearl was based in Pakistan and had traveled to Karachi,
which is kind of the Wild West of Pakistan, to interview
radical Islamists.
Then there was the photo of him sitting head bowed, hands
tied, with a gun to his head.
Like many of the rest of rest of us, I have a hard time
putting a label on what is right or wrong. Maybe I've covered
too many stories for too many years.
The Weekly has employed editorial interns for many years.
They are basically low-paid college help to get some
newspaper experience as part of their education. These have
been mostly terrific kids, bright and eager.
We've had so many interns over the years that they kind of
blur together for me.
But I remember Danny, Stanford class of 1985. He had a
bright smile and was obviously very talented. He's one of
those I distinctly remember, and I recoiled at the image of
him with a gun to his head.
I was the editor of the Weekly when Pearl was an intern,
and when the news broke about his capture Carol Blitzer, an
editor then and now, asked me, ``Is that our Danny?''
Carol later received an e-mail from Kathleen Donnelly, a
former Weekly reporter and Mercury News writer, now living in
Seattle, which confirmed: That is our Danny.
He was so good-natured when he was here that it is hard to
envision him as a hard-edged hard-news reporter. But that's
what he has been and what he has been doing, chasing a
difficult story in a dangerous place.
Eight journalists have already been killed trying to cover
the mess in Afghanistan, because they wanted to ``get the
story.''
I have a lavish photo book, ``Requiem,'' about the Vietnam
War, the war of my youth, the war I marched against. In it
are the photos of photographers who died covering the wars in
Southeast Asia, 135 of them.
I don't know if I would have had the courage to do what
Danny Pearl was doing. But I sense the desire to get the
story. He wanted to know--which is what drives all good
journalists.
He and his wife were expecting their first child when he
was kidnapped, adding to the pathos. Now that baby will grow
up without ever knowing his or her father.
As a reporter, it has been bred deep within me not ever to
take sides. I'm just a reporter, trying to make sense of what
I see and hear for our readers. But no one can make sense of
his death.
Now, it turns out he was killed not just because he was an
American reporter, but because he was also a Jew.
Sometimes I think people who ignore what's going on the
world around them have an easier time, because they don't
have to feel for what is happening. But some things touch
even the people once removed, reading a newspaper or watching
the news on TV. This was one of those times.
When the World Trade Center towers collapsed, it was a
tragedy for thousands of people and their families, friends,
co-workers, all of us. There is still one photo which haunts
me, taken on the fly by a Magnum photographer who didn't see
what he shot until he looked at his film later.
In the photo, there are dozens of people outside the
windows of the upper floors of one of the World Trade Center
towers, fires billowing below them. They were there, looking
out of the building, and they all died.
That was impersonal, because it was just people in the
photo, none of whom I knew.
And then there was the photo of Danny Pearl with a gun to
his head, killed for trying to get the story.
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