Media & Moral Values

Originally appeared on the Huffington Post

The function of the press is very high. It is almost holy.

Louis D. Brandeis
Associate Justice
United States Supreme Court

A media scandal has been unfolding in Great Britain, the likes of which has never before been witnessed.

The scandal is so great it threatens the media empire of Rupert Murdoch, and has already cost him The News of the World, forced him to cancel efforts to buy controlling interest in BSkyB, the commercial rival to the BBC, saw the value of his corporate holdings fall in one week by more than seven billion dollars, and the head of News International, his parent company in England, arrested by Scotland Yard.

In addition, the political repercussions are vast, and some think the coalition government of Prime Minister David Cameron is in peril (he cut short his trip to South Africa to return to London to face the ever escalating entanglement). Moreover, Scotland Yard itself has seen the resignation of its two top cops.

This implausible story, one that makes even “Scoop”, Evelyn Waugh’s fictional account of Fleet Street, seem unimaginative, began in 2002 when News of the World reporters hacked into the cell phone messages of Millie Dowler, a 13-year old English girl who had been kidnapped. The reporters deleted certain messages from the girl’s phone, leading her parents and authorities to believe she might still be alive. She wasn’t. She had been murdered.

Scotland Yard commenced an investigation, but it was the beginning of a massive cover up, which found the police hiding incriminating evidence against The News of the World; evidence which showed Murdoch’s journalists had not only hacked into the cell phone of the 13-year murder victim, but those of 4,000 others – including members of the royal family, movie stars, sports heroes, politicians, and stunningly, dead British soldiers from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Carl Bernstein, the other half of Woodward/Bernstein, calls this shameful story of Murdoch’s press empire in Great Britain, “Media’s Watergate.” He did not intend hyperbole.

I find the saga in England absorbing. As a former press secretary to two U.S. senators and a press aide to Bobby Kennedy in the presidential campaign of ’68, media are a significant part of my life. Moreover, for 55-years I have read the British press, usually the broadsheets, as they are known – The Observer, The Daily Telegraph, The Independent, The Guardian, and The Times (now owned by Murdoch).

I’ve always thought Great Britain’s newspapers were better written and their graphics superior to anything over here (with some exceptions, notably The New York Times).

But over the past three-decades the media in Great Britain have changed significantly under the insidious influence of Murdoch, whose tabloids, The Sun and The News of the World, were hell-bent on destroying the reputations of others, especially those whose political views conflicted with Murdoch’s – thus posing a possible threat on his mission for monopoly.

But presently his publications, including the once storied Times, are in trouble, and The News of the World has closed. No small thing. It was first saw the light of print in 1843.

The story, however, was a long-time coming to the full and now incredulous light of public attention, because a lot of people lied about what had gone on, including Scotland Yard, which bore the critical responsibility for investigating Murdoch’s newspapers.

Not only were the police paid by Murdoch’s agents to provide damaging information on people’s private lives, but some police officers pulled back from the investigations because they were told by their Murdoch handlers if they probed too deeply their own private lives would be the subject of public ridicule by Murdoch’s papers. No, really. No one is making this up. Murdoch’s power was so menacing Scotland Yard cowered. (The American corollary would be the FBI yielding to media threats and its agents accepting bribes.)

At the center of this ever-darkening storm are Murdoch and Rebekah Brooks, who resigned before Scotland Yard arrested her. She had been head of News International, Murdoch’s British holding company. 

Before Ms. Brooks was chosen by Murdoch to head his British empire she had been editor of The News of the World, and later The Sun, a tabloid newspaper infamous for its daily Page 3 feature of bare-breasted women.

In her statement of resignation Ms. Brooks wrote of “the free press we value so highly.” But it’s appropriate to ask, what “value” does she associates with a “free press?”

Does she mean the freedom to hire private investigators to dig up dirt on people of prominence for the purpose of staining their reputations, if not ruining their lives? Does she mean the freedom to bribe police officers in an incessant quest for damaging information on others? Does she mean the freedom to hack into people’s cell phones, medical records, tax returns, and bank statements? Even if your name is Gordon Brown and you are the Chancellor of the Exchequer and later Prime Minister of Great Britain?

(In one shocking incident, Ms. Brooks phoned Brown when he was Prime Minister to tell him The Sun would publish a story saying his infant son had cystic fibrosis.  The only people who knew of their son’s condition were the Prime Minister, his wife, and doctors. Ms. Brooks’ phone call reduced Gordon Brown to tears and traumatized his wife. There is no record that Ms. Brooks regretted her decision to publish information wholly irrelevant to Brown’s role as Prime Minister.)

But amid the deeply troubling questions raised by this outrageous chapter in England’s press history, I have yet to read where journalist has questioned the moral values of their profession. In raising the issue I do not ignore the honorable role played by some British newspapers in breaking the story, especially The Guardian, which has acted in the highest public interest – and save for which this story might otherwise have disappeared from public notice. (I don’t know if there is a British equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize for Public Service, but if so it belongs to The Guardian.)

In a recent media column David Carr of The New York Times came closest when he used “pathology” to describe the media culture created by Rupert Murdoch, a world that includes News International in Great Britain and News Corp. in the U.S (Wall Street Journal, New York Post, and Fox News).

Earlier this week, before a Parliamentary Committee of Inquiry in London, Rupert Murdoch, his son, James Murdoch, and Rebekah Brooks, answered questions from members of the House of Commons. They were queried on every aspect of this sordid affair, one that began with Millie Dowler’s murder in 2002, and now, nine-years on, has broadened to include the power elite of England.

The two Murdochs and Ms. Brooks faced tough questions, and while they displayed humility and regret appropriate to their circumstances, they never acknowledged full responsibility for the revolting happenings on their watch. (And, subsequently, two former high-ranking News International editors accused James Murdoch of having lied in his testimony.)

But in my mind, several questions went begging. Questions I would have directed to Ms. Brooks.

The first question would have been: “Do you consider yourself a decent person?” The second, “Do you consider yourself a person of moral values?”

Assuming Ms. Brooks would have affirmed both, I then would have asked the following question:

“Ms. Brooks, given that you have characterized yourself as a person of decency and morality, would you tell the Commons and the people of Great Britain, why you thought it was acceptable to engage in practices that had as their end game circulation and financial gains for The News of the World and The Sun, even if the end results meant the loss of people’s reputations and the ruin of their personal lives?”

The question wasn’t asked, but my sense is it would not have mattered, that Rebekah Brooks would not have understood its meaning. And the reason, in part, is the “pathology” created by Rupert Murdoch diminishes the values and moral sensibilities of others – even the Rebekah Brooks of this world.

Watching her testify the other day I felt regret and sadness for what’s happened in her life, an obviously bright and talented woman of 43, now disgraced; a victim, she suggested in her testimony to the Commons, of the very tactics she so willfully engaged when others were the prey – and she the predator.

I began this essay by quoting Louis Brandeis. You have a right to know I often invoke the wisdom of the Justice. I do so because I believe his characterization of the press is true. Not true in a functional sense, I am not naïve, nor is my idealism divorced from the realty of our world, but that Justice Brandeis’ words are true as a standard toward which media should ever be mindful.

George Mitrovich is a San Diego civic leader. He may be reached at, gmitro35@gmail.com

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Mark Hatfield: Citizen

Originally appeared in The San Diego Daily Transcript

I first met Mark Hatfield in 1966 at the National Governor’s Conference in Los Angeles. I was working for California Lt. Governor Glenn Anderson, and before the conference at the Century Plaza Hotel I called the executive office in Salem, Oregon’s state capital, and asked if I might meet the Republican governor at the conference?

My request was granted and the governor set aside time for us to visit. You will understand when I say the substance of our conversation, 45-years on, is lost to me. But there is one memory of our meeting that has stayed with me – and will.

As our time together drew to a close, Governor Hatfield asked if he might say a prayer in our behalf. Lots of people have prayed for me in my life, prayers for which I am eternally grateful (may they continue), but no governor ever had. 

My request to meet with him had less to do with politics, although Governor Hatfield was deemed one of the nation’s most promising young political leaders (he was then in his second term as Oregon’s governor), but to ask how he as a Christian faced the daunting challenges of living his faith in a difficult, demanding, and too often ethically challenged profession.

Many people took notice that week when a resolution in support of the Vietnam War was brought before the governors, a measure backed by the Johnson Administration, anxious to minimize mounting criticism of the war. Every governor voted for the resolution, but one. The one governor voting “no” was Mark Hatfield. It was hardly smart politics, but principles mattered more to Hatfield than political gain – and in time his heroic opposition to the war would mark his career as no other.

With his second term as governor coming to a close Hatfield ran for the United States Senate and won. Subsequently he would be reelected four times, thus becoming the state’s longest serving U.S. senator.

The friendship that began in ’66 was renewed three-years later when I became press secretary to Senator Charles Goodell, Republican of New York. It continued following Goodell’s defeat, and I joined the staff of Senator Harold Hughes, Democrat of Iowa.

On a Sunday night in 1971 I watched a CBS White Paper on children in Vietnam whose fathers were American soldiers; children who had become outcasts in their homeland. It was a shocking story and before the documentary was over I found myself in tears.

The next morning I wrote a memo to Senator Hughes, seeking to convey my distress and anger at America’s abdication of these orphans, innocent victims of the war. That afternoon Hughes called me into his office. He said he had read my memo and shared my concern. He then asked whether legislative assistance might be found for the abandoned children. I suggested an alliance with Senator Hatfield, knowing he would understand the children’s tragic circumstances.

Hughes said I should proceed, which I did by calling one of Hatfield’s key legislative aides, Wes Michaelson, someone I knew would be sympathetic. We worked together to fashion what I remember as the Vietnam Children’s bill, co-authored by Hughes and Hatfield. (Wesley Granberg-Michaelson would later become the general-secretary of the Reformed Church in America and a strong voice for social justice and against war.)

In ’72, while changing planes in Denver, I ran into Senator Hatfield. Since we ended up on the same flight to Washington we sat together. Amid much reflecting on things past, including efforts to help the orphans of Vietnam, he said, “Few people will ever know the legislation we sought began with you, but I hope it will suffice that you know.”

In the grander scheme of things friends remember acts of kindness in their behalf, but what’s true for many of us is not always true of politicians. But Mark Hatfield was no ordinary “politician”, and it was consistent with his Christian faith and values to remember a staff person’s moral concern – even if he or she worked for someone else.

It is a misfortune of no small measure that too many of today’s politicians lack Hatfield’s character, character shaped by his deep Christian faith, a faith that never wavered when issues of social justice and peace needed addressing. In this he was not unlike the great British parliamentarian, William Wilberforce, who made it his life’s mission to keep England free of slavery; a fight that began in 1789 and did not end until his final piece of legislation passed in 1833. Similarly Hatfield was steadfast in his opposition to war, and in his 30-year Senate career never voted for a military authorization bill.

In his tribute written for God’s Politics, a blog by Jim Wallis & Friends, Granberg-Michaelson said of Hatfield, “Rarely have I seen anyone like him combine a courageous commitment to principle with a consistent respect for those of opposing views…Like so much of Mark Hatfield’s legacy, these are qualities so destructively absent from our present political climate.

This is the sixth tribute I’ve written of senators I knew, loved, and admired, but who passed too soon from our midst. All of whom – Charles Mathias of Maryland, John Sherman Cooper of Kentucky, Harold Hughes, Charles Goodell, and Bobby Kennedy – were men of faith, and each of whom, in their own way gave expression to their faith.

From the outset of his political career as a state representative in Oregon to the governor’s office and ultimately to the U.S. Senate, few public figures in my experience expressed their Christian faith with greater conviction on issues of poverty and discrimination, war and peace, than Mark Hatfield.

It isn’t that public figures that make no expressions of faith lack moral conviction, I know the opposite, but it is to say that those who do, like Hatfield, deserved to be remembered not alone for their political courage but for the faith that informed their values.

Other deserving tributes have been paid to the Gentleman from Oregon by people of far greater standing than me, but suffice it here to say few individuals in the public square were more faithful to their Christian witness than Mark Hatfield of Oregon.

To have known him was one of the great privileges of my life.

George Mitrovich is a San Diego civic leader

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Fenway Park Writers Series written up in Boston Globe

Boston Globe Columnist Brian McGrory has taken an interest in the Great Fenway Park Writers Series, another of the public forums supported by President George Mitrovich and wrote a fabulous column in yesterday’s paper. You can read the full article by clicking here. It’s a very well written piece, giving a brief history of the founding of the Series and the people who make it all possible.

“Ben Bradlee Jr. is responsible for persuading McGrory The Writers Series was worth a column,” said George Mitrovich, Chairman of the Series. “I’m grateful.

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Tuesday at the White House

This article originally appeared in the Huffington Post.

I went to the White House Tuesday for the Presidential Medal of Freedom ceremony honoring 15 people, from Warren Buffet to George Herbert Walker Bush; from Stan Musial to Bill Russell; from Maya Angelou to Yo-Yo Ma.

I was not the only San Diegan present. Murray and Elaine Galinson were also invited. The “why” of their invitation was unknown to them, but I suspect their standing as two of our town’s leading Democrats and major contributors to charitable and political causes, was a factor. In my case a 40-year friendship with one of the president’s top advisers was the “why” of my being there; that, and his knowing I am a life-long fan of the greatest St. Louis Cardinal ever – Stan Musial.

(Before flying to Washington Monday, Elaine Galinson had an interesting experience with TSA at Lindberg. She went through the screening machine but was asked nonetheless to step aside for a further search (what more could they have been looking for?).  She asked why? She was told they needed to “pat down her hair.” Elaine’s a very attractive woman, but a big hair person she’s not. It’s a funny story and Elaine tells it with amusement, but the “hair pat down” was absurd.)

The Galinsons and I arrived at the “extended” East Gate of the White House on Tuesday at high noon. The invitation from President and Mrs. Obama read “twelve-thirty o’clock”, but we had been advised arriving early was prudent. The Secret Service checked our ID’s and we made our way past the first “check point.” There was a second just before you enter the White House. Upon entering we checked our coats, made our way down the hallway and up the stairs to the reception room, where the U.S. Marine Band was playing, and sparkling water, white wine and champagne was being served (I went with the sparkling water).

While I was not one of them, there were a lot of important people at the reception. Murray kept saying to me, “That person looks like someone.” Which caused me to wonder, “Does anyone think we look like ‘someone?’”  On Murray’s behalf I would ask, “Are you someone?” And indeed, those someones confirmed they were someone. Very Reassuring.

Among the someones I spoke to were Joe Morgan, who, like Musial, is in the Baseball Hall of Fame,  and the Cleveland Brown’s Jim Brown, who some deem the greatest running back in the history of the National Football League. Both Morgan and Brown were guests of Bill Russell, one of the Medal of Freedom honorees, and one of the most dominant players ever in the National Basketball Association (NBA), as 10 titles in 12 years with the Boston Celtics would suggest.

And why had Russell requested Morgan and Brown be invited? Because he knew that they, like him, had suffered the indignities of racial discrimination; and, like him, had survived without ever losing either their dignity or their identities. No small thing, since no white person can ever know what it’s like to be a person of color in the USA.

I also spoke to a gentleman in a wheel chair. His name is Guy Johnson, Maya Angelou’s son, he said. I knew from reading his mother’s autobiography that when she was a young woman struggling to survive in San Diego she gave birth to a boy; Guy Johnson is that boy. I asked he and his wife, Stefanie, where do you live? “Oakland,” he said. “Ah, Oakland,” I said, “the place made famous by Gertrude Stein’s remark, ‘There is no there.’”

But he disagreed with the celebrated women of letters, saying there is a “there” in Oakland, and he pointedly said, Gertrude Stein misused the preposition “there.’” That was wonderfully amusing to me. I told him I often use the quote, but no one before had suggested Ms. Stein misused “there” as a preposition. ” He said, “But I’m a writer and poet and I pay attention to such things.”

I shared this little exchange with David Stern, the NBA commissioner, who seemed slightly perplexed. Later, in the East Room, while waiting for the ceremony to start, Stern, sitting behind me, tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “How did Stein misuse the preposition?” I promised Stern I would check with Johnson to see how Stein had erred in a fundamental rule of grammar. I would do that, of course, because I had no clue, but then neither did Stern about Stein.

When the ceremony was over I told Johnson the commissioner of the NBA wanted to know how “there” was misused? He said, “Because you cannot define a preposition with a preposition.” By then Stern had left but I called the NBA office in New York the next day and left Guy Johnson‘s answer with the commissioner’s secretary.

I had a chance to say hello to George Herbert Walker Bush, our 41st president. During the Gulf War my brother Dan and I, along with the founder of the New York City Marathon, Fred Lebow, had been to the White House with Senator Alan Simpson, a close friend of the president’s. We spent about 15 minutes in the Oval office and I thought then, and now, President Bush 41 is an extraordinarily decent man (a view held by almost everyone, except the haters among us, not all of whom are on the right). It was shocking and upsetting to see him in a wheel chair. To witness this vital human being, who jumped out of an airplane on his 85th birthday, so confined, was a sad reminder it can come to anyone – I just hate that it has happened to him.

Yo-Yo Ma, the brilliant cellist, was also honored Tuesday by the President Obama, who spoke not alone of Ma’s great artistry but also of his wholly engaging persona. We saw that after the ceremony when Ma borrowed a cello from a Marine band member and played a lovely song with other Marines. The president, who was about to depart the reception, took note of Ma’s playing and walked over to listen.

When Ma finished everyone applauded and the president turned to leave. Since Murray, Elaine, and I were standing behind the president we greeted him. “Mr. President, I’m George Mitrovich, from San Diego, and it’s an honor to meet you.” He said, “George, I am pleased to meet you.” He then greeted the Galinsons, who had met him before. I then said, “Mr. President, I have one question. When Vice President Biden was in San Diego two-years ago I gave him an authentic 1959 Chicago White Sox replica jacket and asked if he would hand delivered it to you.” The president, a huge White Sox fan, confirmed the delivery of the jacket.

Oh, I began by affirming Stan Musial as my baseball hero; so let me end with this:
Because Ted Williams was born in San Diego, played ball at Hoover High and with the Pacific Coast League Padres before joining the Red Sox in ’39, it is often assumed Teddy Ballgame is every young San Diego boy’s baseball idol. Maybe, but in personal esteem Musial has always been my favorite player. And at the White House Tuesday, I had the chance to tell him the first time I saw him play in person was Friday, April 25, 1958, when the Cardinals came to Los Angeles to play the Dodgers. The Cardinals won 5-3 and Musial was 4-4, with a double and three singles. What more could you want from your baseball hero?

I then told Musial I found the box score of the game on the Web and printed it up on high quality photographic paper, which I carry with me everywhere I go. I’m not sure it resonated with Stan the Man, as he is famously known, but his daughters standing nearby, loved the story.

A magnificent day at the White House was drawing to a close; it was time to leave. But before leaving I asked the Marine band if they knew the Notre Dame fight song? They looked at one another in puzzlement, but then the cellist began playing, “Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame…”

I may never get back to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue for such an occasion, but if this was the one and only time for such a grand ceremony, the memories of Tuesday, February 15, 2011, will be treasured until the moment I draw my last breath.

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George Mitrovich is a San Diego civic leader

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You Are What You Read

This article originally appeared in the Huffington Post.

Paras’ newsstand in San Diego’s North Park community has been there as long as I can remember (if only I could remember how long that’s been).

I love newsstands, and no matter where I’ve lived over the years, there have been newsstands in my life.

When we lived in Pasadena and Whittier, I thought nothing of driving to Hollywood to a newsstand that first opened in 1937 (no, I didn’t make the opening). Then and now the stand had just about everything – from foreign newspapers and magazines to the broadest possible range of American periodicals. Why would I make that trip? because neither Whittier nor Pasadena offered anything comparable.

In Washington, while working for Congress, the newsstand I most often frequented was down Pennsylvania Avenue from the Library of Congress. In New York City, where my duties as press secretary to Senator Charles Goodell often took me, I loved the huge newsstand near his office in the Postal Annex Building (Grand Central Station was nearby).

In my world of values, beyond family and faith, newsstands rank second only to bookstores – and my history with Paras exceeds that of all others.

In these tough economic times the fact that Paras still stands, and even thrives, is nothing short of remarkable. Yes, the newsstand underwent an ownership change, but the young gentlemen who took over, Ken Grabber and Junior Najor, are no less committed to making Paras work than the previous owners – Rocky and Mike Attallah.

Of course, to make it work you have to sell more than magazines and newspapers, and Paras does – from lottery tickets to Dunkin Donuts Coffee; but neither lottery tickets nor Dunkin Donuts Coffee defines Paras, periodicals do.

Where did this start, this interest in magazines and newspapers found at newsstands?

When I was a kid growing up in North Park the one publication I read every week was The Sporting News, otherwise known as “The Bible of Baseball.” For 25 cents I would pick it up every Tuesday afternoon at the drug store at 30th and Upas. On those Tuesdays when it wasn’t there, because of delivery problems, I was crushed. I loved The Sporting News. I read it cover-to-cover, including the entire box scores from minor league games. Did that make sense? Probably not, since no one has ever asked me how the Class D Pioneer League’s Great Falls Electrics did in ’48 (they finished 7th).

I would pay 10 cents and ride the number 2 trolley downtown from North Park to the out-of-town newsstand on Broadway. (One of the dumbest things San Diego ever did, and it is not a short list, was to exchange trolleys for buses. Yes, the trolleys are back – as “light rail” – but it doesn’t change the stupidity of the intervening years. True, San Diego’s role in this was repeated by every municipality in America, save San Francisco. It was the results of a massive conspiracy by General Motors and tire companies, who sold buses not trolleys; but San Diego should have seen it coming, but the city didn’t.)

Going to the out-of-town newsstand was always exciting, and even though I didn’t have much money and could only afford one or two newspapers or magazines – Life magazine was 15 cents back then – just being able to browse made the ride worthwhile – as there was a world to discover beyond the insular little Navy town I grew up in. (Later I worked out a deal with the city’s librarian to give me at month’s end the out-of-town newspapers the library subscribed to (which otherwise would have been trashed); thus I could be seen riding the number 2 back to North Park and home with a month’s back copies of the Louisville Courier-Journal or the Minneapolis Star-Tribune (or other comparable newspapers).

When I graduated from high school I made plans to attend Pasadena (Nazarene) College. That was a good decision but a bad one followed. I threw away more than 500 back issues of The Sporting News. True, they weren’t going to Pasadena with me (dorm rooms are shared and tiny) and neither my siblings nor parents read The Sporting News, so they were gone. But still I think about my decision, especially when I read online a 1949 Opening Day copy is selling for $72. (The Sporting News is still published, but it is no longer devoted solely to baseball, having been corrupted by coverage of football and basketball, and, even, worse, truly, NASCAR; if that isn’t un-American, what is?)

But in college my reading broadened – significantly.

I began subscribing to serious magazines, many first discovered at newsstands. There was The Christian Century, Christianity & Crisis, and Christianity Today – the first two theologically liberal and the third, conservative. That pattern persisted with political journals like The New Republic, then decidedly liberal, and William F. Buckley’s National Review, decidedly conservative (only later would it morph into a right wing publication, losing its standing as a serious journal reflecting historic conservative values). I also read The Atlantic Monthly and Harpers Magazine, The Reporter and The Saturday Review, a magazine that under Norman Cousins’ brilliant editorship was an indispensable read. (Many years later, thanks to Joan Kroc, Cousins came to The City Club of San Diego to speak. That was big, as he was one of my literary heroes.)

In my seemingly never-ending quest to balance what I read, I subscribed to two British magazines, The New Statesman and The Spectator. The first aligned with the Labour Party and the second the Conservatives. (The original Spectator was founded by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele in 1711. It didn’t last long but would serve later as the inspiration for Samuel Johnson’s The Rambler; and it was from Johnson’s incomparable genius the first dictionary of the English language was published – a replicate copy of which sits on a book stand near my desk.)

As a college kid I did something I’m reasonably certain few college kids did. I had my copies of The Christian Century, a weekly magazine, bound in book form. They remain in my library, and from time to time I dip into their pages, attempting to discover if what excited me intellectually 50-years ago excites me intellectually now. Lots of things change in this life, but theological disputes have amazing staying power; which is one reason why the Christian church stills stands – 21 centuries on; its essential message of love and redemption relevant in a world that fundamentally offers too little of either – love or redemption.

Somewhere along the way, in this intellectual journey driven by endless curiosity, I began reading literary, political, and theological quarterlies (Theology Today and Reformed Journal). Quarterlies have an influence vastly greater than their often-microscopic circulations (they are to popular culture magazines like People, Us, and Entertainment Weekly, what the French Resistance was to the Nazi occupation.) It’s amazing how many quarterlies are still published, some with long and distinguished histories, despite circulations of only a few thousand readers – this, mind you, in a nation of more than 300 million people.

The late George Plimpton edited The Paris Review for more than 50-years. Many considered it the world’s finest literary quarterly. But even allowing for its remarkable influence on all things literary – not least its priceless interviews with famous novelists – its circulation seldom exceeded 13,000 subscribers. It survived because of Plimpton’s transcendent charm – he was one of a kind – and a group of devoted friends, including the Aga Kahn, Brooke Astor, and all the Kennedys. (On The Paris Review’s 45th anniversary The Kensington Group, a local Saturday morning breakfast set, bought a full-page ad celebrating The Review’s accomplishments. It was a good deal, earning life-time subscriptions.)

But few quarterlies have a long shelf life independent of a college or university association. From The New England Quarterly (Middlebury College) to the Swanee Review (University of the South), from the Virginia Quarterly (University of Virginia) to The Southern Review (LSU), their existence depends upon those connections. And even then, some are having a tough time, most notably The Virginia Review, which is undergoing cutbacks and controversy.

Which brings back to where this essay began, with Paras Newsstand in North Park:

Of all the bookstore and newsstands I have been blessed to browse – trust me, it’s a very long list, from Powell’s in Portland to Foyles in London, from the newsstand at Harvard Square in Cambridge to the one at City Lights in San Francisco – none matches the selection of quarterly publications and magazines of substance offered by Paras – none.

Despite the presence in San Diego of universities of world acclaim, the city is seldom confused as the intellectual capital of the U.S. When people think of San Diego they think of sunshine and ocean breezes, they don’t think of it as a place where intellectuals gather. The idea, therefore, that the city has a newsstand perhaps unrivaled in America, would surprise them – but it does.

Let me underscore that claim, by a simple fact: Paras carries more than 250 quarterlies and serious monthly magazines; publications dedicated to the arts, ideas, literature, language, poetry, politics, science, governance, and world affairs.

Yes, they are all there – African Voices, American Spectator, Harpers, Middle East Report, National Interest, National Review, Oxford American. The Atlantic, The Nation, The New Republic, and World Literature Today, a quality periodical published by Oklahoma University (and you thought Okahoma only excelled in football).

In addition, the list of quarterly “reviews” is very long – Alaska, Antioch, Atlanta, Chicago, Colorado, Georgia, Gettysburg, Harvard, Hedgehog, Hudson, Indiana, Iowa, Kenyon, Missouri, Seattle, Southern, Spoon River Poetry, Swanee, and Yale,

Plus, such important quarterlies as Daedalus, Dissent, Fletcher Forum, Granta, Image, Lapham’s, Modern Age, N+1, Political Science, Raritan, Salmagundi, Tin House, TriQuarterly, Utne, Washington Square, West Branch, and Zyzzyva.

The section featuring book review periodicals carries Bloomsbury, Bookform, Books & Culture, Boston Review, Threepenny, Women’s Review of Books, and the New York Review of Books (America’s penultimate intellectual journal).

But any newsstand that doesn’t carry Horn Book and Stone Soup, two superb publications for children, would be a newsstand unworthy to be called, “Paras.”

In our world with its ever-cheapening values and moral obtuseness, literature, in all its varied forms, beams as a light against the encroaching darkness.

Browsing at newsstands is a great way to spend your leisure time – and there are few places better to spend your money.

I am grateful for newsstands everywhere – but especially for Paras.

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George Mitrovich is president of The City Club of San Diego. His email address is: gmitro35@gmail.com

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