Category Archives: The State

My caricature (an Ariail original, I’ll have you know)

My colleagues from the editorial department (both past and present) had a going-away party for Robert and me Sunday night, which was really, really nice. (Why so long after we left? It was the first time that Cindi, who hosted the shindig at her place, could round up enough of us.) Aside from the present crowd, the blasts from the past included Kent Krell, Nina Brook, Mike Fitts, Claudia Brinson and John Monk — plus former publisher Ann Caulkins, who came all the way down from Charlotte just for the party, which really touched me. And a special appearance by Lee Bandy.

Actually, I’m deeply touched by everyone who played a role in the event (some would say, of course, that I am just “touched,” period). It was really great. You know, an awful lot of people just keep doing things to prevent me from feeling bad about getting laid off, so I don’t know when the shock sets in.

Anyway, a highlight of such events is always the reading of the mock page, which I won’t go into, except to say that it was full of relatively inside jokes. Some of it was a little more mainstream, such as this excerpt from a column in which I am announcing my plan to run for governor on the Unparty ticket:

Thus validated, I concluded that
there’s no way South Carolina can
get anywhere without the leadership
of my Un-Party, which we’ll
begin to demonstrate just as soon
as we can settle on what
we believe in.
We’re for a strong,
energy-independent
America, respected
worldwide. As is everybody.
We’re for a South Carolina
that pays workers
the same wages that people
expect in the rest of
America. As is everybody.
We’re for a South
Carolina that takes care
of its citizens, and makes
sure that all its children
have a good education.
As is everybody, except
Gov. Sanford.
I talked about my idea with the
governor, who listened to indulge
his self-image as political scholar.
“At the end of the day, Brad,
you’ve got to decide if South Carolina
now has the right soil conditions
for you to grow your political
endeavor,” he said.
“Well, you’ve certainly added
fertilizer to our soil,” I replied.
“You’ll have a problem convincing
voters that your Un-Party
will be as good at un-governing the
state as I have been. After all, I’ve
given the state a new definition of
un-leadership,” he said.
I then took the opportunity to
take a few quick photos and a
video for the Web. Quality wasn’t
so good, as it turned out, since this
was a phone conversation.
“The question, to me, at the end
of the day, is whether you hate
government enough to want to run
it. I don’t think you do, Brad, but
so it goes. To be continued.”
As I disconnected my telephone
headset, I looked up to see Robert
Ariail waiting for me, sketches in
hand. He might well have been
standing there for 15 minutes, just
waiting. Cartooning is not a profession
for the sane.

I should stop there, because I know most of the stuff my colleagues never intended to see published. Oh, all right, one more sample, and then I’m going away. Here, the wiseguys were making fun of my weakness for pop culture allusions (particularly The Godfather) and my propensity to digress, parenthetically, to an absurd degree:

But just as useful for the purpose of creating thinly connected
film-derivative metaphors about politics, government, society or
whatever we might be struggling to make a coherent point about
is the warning that “When they come, they come at what you
love,” with its implicit imperative to preserve and protect the
family. It is an imperative that is made unmistakably explicit in
the words of Don Vito Corleone in the initial 1972 film, The Godfather,
by far the finest movie ever produced (South Carolina, of
course, does not have a don. The governor should be the don,
and others in the organization should tremble at his approach.
But because he does not have the power to rub out discordant
rivals on a whim, instead we must endure the endless gang warfare
we see at the State House.), when he asks apostle Luca
Brasi, who was very handy with a garrote: “Do you spend time
with your family? Good. Because a man that doesn’t spend time
with his family can never be a real man.” (Of course, if Luca
Brasi had spent all the time that he should have with his family,
the core unit and strength of our society, then maybe he wouldn’t
have ended up sleeping with the fishes.)

OK, so you had to be there (like, in the office for the last 22 years). I thought it was a hoot.

And of course, the don didn’t say that to Luca; he said it to Johnny Fontane. But you knew that.

Finally, there was the cartoon — the original of which Robert gave me, framed. Which is very cool (no one on my block has an original Ariail caricature of them, ha-ha). Yet another thing that makes getting laid off worthwhile.

Did you ever see what Kevin Fisher wrote about me? It was good.

Way back last month when I left The State, I had so much going on that I forgot to share with you this interesting piece Kevin Fisher wrote about me in the Free Times. A sample:

Brad Warthen could cut through the nonsense. He could also add to it. He was an enormous asset to the community. And sometimes just an enormous ass. In sum, Brad Warthen was exactly what the editorial page editor should be.

His combination of independent thought and establishment demeanor (“let’s meet at the Capital City Club”), his firebreathing rhetoric coupled with faux-folksiness (the repetitive and irritating use of “y’all” on his blog) and a determination to make The State’s editorial page matter (his foremost achievement) produced a professional legacy he can take pride in.

Perhaps the circumstances under which I read it caused me to forget. I read it at Goatfeathers on the night of my last day at The State. Robert Ariail and I had driven over to Five Points after we finished loading up my truck and his Jeep with the last stuff from our offices. We went to my usual hangout, Yesterday’s, first. There we ran into the proprietor of Goatfeathers, an old friend of Robert’s, who insisted we visit his establishment also on this auspicious occasion, so we did. Once there, he refused to let us drink cheap beer, but had his employees bring bottle after bottle of the most expensive, esoteric stuff he had. (And no, we didn’t drink it all — we had these little glasses with which we tasted each one.) Anyway, it was in the midst of all that that I read Kevin’s piece.

And I liked it. It was no-nonsense commentary with the bark on. He said nice things about me, but clearly wasn’t trying to butter me up. He kicked me where he thought I needed kicking. He wrote about me the way I wrote about him and others, which from me is a compliment. He said I was “willing to be difficult,” which is almost as good as being, like N.G. Gonzales in Mencken’s estimation, “worth shooting.” So I liked the piece, and I’m sorry I forgot to pass it on earlier.

First the Hardwarehouse, now Hiller

I’m sort of enjoying getting the daily business updates from Mike Fitts, which I just signed up for last week. I cited Mike’s work yesterday, and now I come to share some sad news from 5 Points — Hiller Hardware’s going away.

An excerpt from Mike’s report:

An iconic business is heading out of Five Points. Hiller Hardware is planning to leave its longtime location at Blossom and Harden streets, making way for a new branch of BB&T bank.

If the deal goes through, BB&T will tear down the existing structure as part of a 30-year lease on the property, said Merritt McHaffie, executive director of the Five Points Association. The plans will be discussed at the May 5 meeting of the city’s Design Development and Review Commission….

Columbia City Councilwoman Belinda Gergel, who represents Five Points, said she’s been a longtime Hiller customer, buying a wide variety of items, such as rakes or candles….

Hiller has been at its Five Points location since 1951 and in business in Columbia for almost 70 years. A Lady Street location closed during streetscaping there several years ago….

He went on to report that the family business MIGHT open elsewhere, but that’s by no means certain.

The problem is the big-box hardware retailers, and I must confess that I am part of the problem because I’m a regular customer at Lowe’s. My wife, on the other hand, used to always go out of her way to do business with Ace Hardwarehouse in the Park Lane shopping center in Cayce — which closed last year.

That was another local landmark. It was also a prized advertising customer of The State. Once, years ago, a previous publisher decided that we non-business types on the senior staff needed to shadow some ad sales reps just to learn what they did. The rep I was assigned to took me first to the Hardwarehouse, where the owner or manager was so into his newspaper ads that he would put them together himself, pasting bits of file art onto posterboard at a drawing table in his office.

Yeah, the newspaper makes big bucks from big boxes (although not as big as in the past). But an important part of the community that has been dying and taking newspapers along with it consists of businesses like Hardwarehouse and Hiller. And it’s a shame to see them go.

Bobby Harrell’s excellent column today

Bobby Harrell’s op-ed piece in The State today was quite good. Not just because I agree with it. In fact, there is nothing remarkable in that. Pretty much everyone from all parts of the political spectrum holds the view I do on the stimulus — that now that it is a fact and we will have to pay for it, we must make sure that South Carolina gets every penny of its share. Only a tiny band of reality-denying ideologues disagrees. Unfortunately, one of them is our governor. Our state is cursed in that regard.

But I often read columns that I agree with, and wish I didn’t, because they are so weak. They actually harm the cause. Not so in this case. Bobby does a pretty decent job. I wonder if it was this good when he turned it in, or whether Cindi (who has handled local op-eds since Mike left last year) made it this good editing it. Whichever is the case, I liked it.

Set aside the issue of whether Marie Antoinette actually said the thing about letting the peasants eat cake (she probably did not). I find often that the lead anecdote or analogy is the weakest part of an otherwise good column. And in this case, the idea expressed is sound, even if the historical reference is not.

The speaker sets the governor’s nonsense against hard reality, such as when he invites the governor to seek out the places where he thinks government is growing:

If he really thinks we are somehow growing spending by 11 percent this year, I invite the governor to visit the schools, police stations and disability care facilities and see for himself the reductions — not expansions — they are having to make.

And of course, the governor’s assertion that government is growing will NOT stand up to scrutiny at the rubber-meets-the-road level.

Then, he rather deftly takes away the one thing even many of the governor’s detractors would concede him — his ideological purity — by pointing out his inconsistency:

While Gov. Sanford has made it clear that he adamantly opposes taking this education and law enforcement stimulus money, he has at the same time already accepted all the other funds that he can out of the remaining 90 percent of the $8 billion in stimulus money and tax cuts coming to our state.

It makes no sense for the governor to cherry-pick the funds he will accept — such as the $50 million to make buildings more energy-efficient that he requested the other week — and oppose money for teachers and law enforcement officers on so-called “philosophical” grounds. This is inconsistent with any kind of viewpoint and goes against what most people would consider to be common sense.

Finally, he explains why the governor’s oft-repeated claim that lawmakers could avoid deep cuts simply by following the budget HE recommended months ago simply doesn’t fit reality:

These budgetary facts are not some form of “scare tactics,” as the governor claims. Pointing to his executive budget written months ago, the governor says he was able to fund key areas of government without stimulus money. But what he doesn’t tell you is that he also had $254 million more in state funds than budget writers have available today because the Board of Economic Advisors has twice lowered the revenue estimates since then.

Given the quarter of a billion dollars less in state funds that we have to write a budget with, the only thing scary about these facts is the reality of the situation — a reality Gov. Sanford doesn’t seem to grasp.

On the whole, a good piece.

Robert’s got his mojo working!

One of Michael Feldman’s gags on the show today was to insist that Robert Ariail and I must be the same person, because we both left the paper at the same time, and he had never seen us together.

But even as we spoke, Robert was getting the bugs worked out on his blog, and now it’s up and fully operational — which it was not yesterday. Go there, and enjoy.

So this proves that I’m not him. Or he. And besides, I wear glasses and he doesn’t. Duh.

Check out Jeffrey Day’s ‘Carolina Culture’ blog

Lots of folks have said very kind things in expressing their dismay at my having been laid off from the paper. But I don’t think the outpouring I’ve received has been quite as intense as the feeling in the arts community over the loss of my colleague Jeffrey Day. I saw an e-mail calling for a letter-writing campaign to protest his departure within 24 hours of the news breaking — and unlike me, Jeffrey wasn’t even mentioned in the news story. The arts grapevine just moved that fast. The gist of the message I saw was, we may have hated what he said in some of his reviews, but we’re going to miss the serious attention he gave the arts. Or something along those lines.

Well, Jeffrey’s back — with a blog he unveiled today. I urge you to go check it out. There’s something to be said for taking a little time before launching your blog. Jeffrey’s is certainly more esthetically pleasing than mine. But you’d expect that.

You know, once Robert gets the bugs worked out of his new blog (he actually has a Web guru going to his house to cast spells over it tomorrow, I hear), between that and mine and Jeffrey’s, you’re practically going to have a reconstituted Stet Pepper online. Just add water.

Get your new Robert Ariail cartoons right here!

With great pleasure, I note that my great friend and colleague finally has his blog, robertariail.com, up and running, with the new cartoons he’s done in the last couple of weeks.

This is a relief. Over the weekend, I tried to give him some remote technical aid — he was having a lot of trouble getting the cartoons up on the site — but it was beyond my poor, humble talents.

Great to see that someone has come to his rescue (or, he figured it out himself).

Cindi sets the governor’s numbers straight

I highly recommend Cindi’s column in The State today, which debunks the numbers the governor uses in arguing his quirky view of the stimulus, and does so in highly understandable (even for me) terms. A sample:

The governor’s other numbers aren’t quite as obviously skewed, which is why we need to take a closer look at them. Since Mr. Sanford consolidated most of his claims in a recent op-ed column, let’s just work from that:

• “Last year state government spent $19 billion, and this year we will spend $21 billion.”

The budget passed by the House, which includes all $928 million in stimulus funds, was $21.2 billion, but because of another across-the-board cut last month, it will have to be cut to $21.1 billion. If you left out the $350 million Mr. Sanford wants left out, you’d be down to $20.7 billion. That’s about $800 million more than the current budget of $19.9 billion, which has been cut many times, but it’s less than the $20.9 budget the Legislature passed last spring.

On top of that, more than a third of the money is federal funds, which agencies don’t have the discretion to divert the way they can state funds. And of course our population is increasing, which increases the demand for government services.

• “Even education spending will go from $3.3 billion to $3.5 billion.”

After I raised questions about the first figure, Mr. Sanford’s office sent out a note Tuesday saying it got bad figures from the State Budget Office and it should have said education spending will go from $3.43 billion to $3.55 billion. But even the “correct” numbers demand explanation. The budget passed by the House includes $3.8 billion in state and federal funding for the state Education Department; eliminate stimulus funds, and it drops to $3.55 billion. Last month’s budget cuts would reduce that figure to $3.5 billion. So, the increase would be $70 million, not $200 million.

Still, that is an increase. Sort of. Here’s where context is crucial: The budget the Legislature passed last spring promised $3.8 billion to the schools, so they started this school year thinking they had $3.8 billion to spend; they paid the raises the Legislature mandated, and kept their staff at the levels that would support. Then the state budget cuts started. Since schools were barred by law from laying off teachers or cutting their pay, they had to dip into their reserve funds. That means they will actually spend significantly more than $3.5 billion this year.

So getting $3.5 billion next year would be a reduction, and reductions mean layoffs. (At an average $61,000 in salary and benefits, a $100 million cut takes out more than 1,600 teachers.)…

But you should go read the whole thing. It’s all valuable.

There’s no journalist in South Carolina who understands, or explains, state fiscal matters better than Cindi. I’ve relied heavily on her ability to explain these things — to me, and to the readers — for over 20 years.

South Carolina’s unfinished business

By BRAD WARTHEN

THE COLUMN I’d prefer to be remembered for — my fond reflection on how great it has been to work here with Robert Ariail — ran on Friday. But I hope you’ll forgive me if I close my career at this newspaper with a tough-love piece about unfinished business in South Carolina. Keep in mind, I say these things because I do love my state dearly, and I want the best for it. I always have.

None of these issues will come as a surprise to you. I’ve gone on and on about them for years. These are things we need to do if our state is to reach its potential — to put it more bluntly, to catch up with all those other states whose people are healthier, wealthier and (apparently, given our resistance to reform) wiser than we are.

Each of these items is interwoven with the others; each could be a book (one that I’ve written, on these pages). But here’s the short version:

Improve our schools. Stop talking about nonsensical distractions — such as our governor’s proposal to pay people to pull their children out of our schools — and fix the schools. The only way we will ever raise incomes and overcome the legacy of our economy having been built upon slavery is to make sure everyone has a decent education. And the only possible way to do that is through a statewide system of public schools, with the more affluent areas underwriting the more depressed ones. Public schools are the only ones we the people control, and they have to do whatever we decide they should do. Here are some of the changes we should implement: Pay teachers more for better performance, not for initials after their names; eliminate waste and reduce incompetence by cutting the number of districts from 85 to no more than one per county; empower principals to hire and fire. Let’s stop talking, and get these things done.

Restructure state government. Right now, most of the executive branch is fragmented into scores of tiny islands that answer to no one. Make the executive branch accountable to the elected chief executive, so that our next governor (and here’s another thing for our to-do list — elect a better governor) can pull our limited resources together and get state agencies working together to accomplish the agenda upon which he (or she) is elected. Our current system was designed, intentionally, to resist change. We have to replace it to move forward.

Restructure local government. To give you but one example — the real-world economic community that we informally name “Columbia” consists of more than a dozen municipalities, two counties, seven school districts and an absurd tangle of independent little jurisdictions such as fire, recreation, water and sewer districts. The technical, legal city of Columbia — a mere fraction of the real community — is “governed” in a way that is guaranteed to shield both city administrators and elected officials from accountability. Statewide, we need to make it easier for local governments to consolidate and annex, and get rid of the more than 500 special purpose districts that unnecessarily complicate governance on the local level.

Set local governments free. Let the people elected to run the governments closest to the people run them, without interference by state legislators. The ways that the people who should be minding state business (and you’d think they’d have enough on their plates) meddle in local matters are legion. In some communities they appoint school board members (in Dillon County, a single lawmaker — who happens to be an employee of the school system — determines who will be on the school board). In others, they set school budgets. Collectively, legislators put local governments statewide in a ridiculous bind, writing impossible rules for how and even how much they can tax. Local people know what their communities need; leave them alone.

Let our colleges and universities drive our economy. The presidents of our three research universities have made strides, cooperating to an extraordinary degree. It needs to become the focused policy of this state to use our public institutions of higher education to attract the best and brightest, keep them here and foster research that puts us on the cutting edge of wealth-creating innovation. That means funding the endowed chairs program at twice the level that we did when we were actually investing in it, and restoring support for the schools themselves. We are 40 years behind North Carolina and Georgia. We won’t catch up in my lifetime, but we need to start trying.

Overhaul our tax system. Figure out what state government needs to do, the things that only it can do, then determine what that costs, and devise and implement a fair, balanced and reliable way of funding it. That means scrapping our entire tax structure, and making it serve all of the people of this state, rather than overlapping, competing, narrow interests.

Some of these things are tough; others are less so. But they are all essential to getting our act together in South Carolina. To help us warm up for the harder ones, I suggest we do the following immediately:

• Raise our lowest-in-the-nation cigarette tax by a dollar, bringing us (almost) to the national average, and saving thousands of young lives.

• Remove the Confederate flag from the State House grounds.

While those last two are easier to implement, they are essential to proving to the world and ourselves that we are serious about building a better South Carolina. The reasons that have been offered not to do those two, simple things are not reasons in any rational sense, but rather outgrowths of the mind-sets that have held us back since 1865.

Which is long enough.

Mr. Warthen was vice president and editorial page editor of The State through Friday. He worked at the paper for 22 years. Find his new blog at bradwarthen.com, or e-mail him at brad@bradwarthen.com.

Those nice letters in today’s paper

I’m loving me some letters to the editor today. I thank my (ex-)colleagues for running them. The thing I like about them aside from the nice things they say about me, is that they represent a nice cross-section of readers — or as good a sample as you can get with just one day’s letters. A brief overview:

Harriet Hutto remembers our friendship starting differently from the way I do. She says it started with an e-mail response she wrote to me. She’s probably right. But I particularly remember getting to know her when she became the most persistently loyal reader I know. She lives on a rural route in the Holly Hill area, and it was one of those routes that was so rural, and had so few subscribers on it, that the paper dropped it. She refused to do without her paper, and she began a quest that involved me, Kathy Moreland in the publisher’s department, and Eddie Roof in circulation, trying to find a creative way to get her paper to her. Here’s what we came up with at one point: A friend who lived several miles away was on a route we were keeping. Harriet got the friend to put up a second box, and Harriet’s paper was delivered there — and she drove over and got it every morning. Anyway, Harriet has over the years written some of the most fascinating e-mails chronicling life in rural South Carolina. She is a talented, and prolific, writer, and a dear lady. Oh, and FYI, she’s Sen. Brad Hutto’s mother.
The night of the first presidential debate, I hung around to meet the panel that the newsroom had put together to react. It had been another long day, and I was tired. Since it was a newsroom deal, I felt sort of like a fifth wheel. I sort of justified my being there by passing out a bunch of “State in ’08” coffee mugs. And now, I see this nice letter from James Frost, saying he was glad to meet me that night — that it was, in fact, an honor. Likewise, Mr. Frost. I’m glad I showed up.
Jim Stiver was an honors college adviser over at USC in the mid-90s when my oldest daughter started there. As I recall, he interviewed her for a scholarship. I learned that he was an ardent libertarian, and that he had mentioned to my daughter that he was familiar with my work. (She said he asked her a question — “What is the difference between anarchy and chaos?” I forget what my daughter said, but I remember what I told her I would have said: “About five seconds.”) Uh-oh, I thought. My poor child will never get that scholarship. But she did. And that testifies to what a fair-minded man Prof. Stiver is.
Milly Hough is the communications director at the SC Arts Commission. I don’t know what to say to someone who says I was the “conscience” of the paper. Feels like a heavy burden I’ve just put down. I do truly appreciate it, though.
When I read this proof on Friday, my red pen struck at Nancy Padgett saying, “I always knew that he was going to end up voting Republican.” But I let it go. Nancy meant it kindly. It’s SO demonstrably untrue (my count shows that we endorsed slightly more Democrats than Republicans in the years I headed the editorial board), and to me insulting (the idea that I would identify with either of those execrable factions appals me), that I was going to protest it to me colleagues. (Of course, they would have told me that I had no say, that I had to recuse myself, but I was going to protest it all the same.) But the thing is that I knew from years of correspondence with her that this was what she truly believed — she’s one of those Democrats who, if you endorse a Republican once at any point in time, you are a Republican, and incontrovertible evidence to the contrary has no effect — and that she was only saying it to dramatize her kind intentions toward me. And besides, the following letter was a nice counterpoint to it…
Once, early in my friendship with Bud Ferillo, I was a guest for dinner at his home, and I was pretty impressed by his study. Wall-to-wall, floor to ceiling, nothing but pictures of prominent Democrats, national and state, and remembrances of past Democratic campaigns. It was a shrine to his party. So I figured, if readers see that Bud Ferillo of all people, expresses his “deepest appreciation for the causes and hopes we have shared,” readers will probably take Nancy’s kindly-intended error with a grain of salt. So I left it alone, and did not protest.
I’m particularly pleased by Carole Holloway’s anecdote about my playing phone tag with her until I reached her at 8 p.m. on a Friday when she had a complaint. It pleased me because I know that in recent years — as my staff shrank, and it became harder and harder to get the simplest things done in the course of the day — there have been too many people I failed to get back to. At least, that’s how I remember it. We tend to remember our failings; or I do. I don’t remember everything about my conversation with her, but what I probably said is this: I appreciate that you care so much about what I do for a living that you don’t want less of it. But I ask you to consider, if you don’t like having fewer editorial pages being put out by fewer people, how do you think I like it? Do you think I would give you less if it were in my power to give you more? Just to be clear, I would not. My whole career has been about doing more, doing a better job than I did the day before. And now I can’t. I’m sorry, and touched, that you don’t like it. But I like it far less. Or something like that. I’ve said things like that a lot in recent years. I felt every cutback like it was coming out of my hide, but I also fully understood the horrific bind that my industry was in, with the advertising revenue base melting under our feet. And I understand it now that I’ve lost my job. Of course, understanding doesn’t make it any better. The awful thing is, there’s no one to blame — and no one who might put it to rights if only you complain passionately enough. It’s just the world changing.

Getting paid to have a blast: Working with Robert

By BRAD WARTHEN
Editorial Page Editor
REMEMBER “The Dick Van Dyke Show”? For you younger folks, it was about a guy named Rob Petrie, the head writer for a fictional variety show (and if you’re too young to know what a “variety show” is, go look it up) called “The Alan Brady Show.”

There were these wonderful scenes of Rob and his colleagues at work, writing comedy sketches — a process that involved a lot of bouncing around the office, acting out and collaborative improvisation. Morey Amsterdam’s frenetic character would jump up and say something like, “OK, so Alan walks into the room…” and the other two would throw in various wild things until they made each other laugh, and the skit would take shape. It looked like the most fun a person could possibly get paid for having.

That’s what it’s been like working with my friend Robert Ariail over the past 15 years. Just like that.

Robert would come into my office after the other editors and I were done with our morning meeting (Robert doesn’t do meetings), usually with several sketches. Sometimes he’d come with nothing, but that was unusual. I’d react to the sketches, maybe suggesting dialogue changes, maybe an entirely different approach. Robert pays me the compliment of saying I think like a cartoonist. And I do. I have everything it takes — except the talent.

Robert has truckloads of that. He can sketch an idea as quickly as you can describe it, and many of those initial sketches could be published as they are. But was he satisfied? No way. He might go through 10 versions in the course of the day, coming back to my office several times to seek further feedback. This was fine, although more often than not, his first instincts were the best. He would refine, and it would get better and better, but he usually had it nailed from the start.

As you know, Robert and I are both leaving the paper. Today is our last day. Such is the state of our industry. So much for getting paid to have fun, for a collaboration that almost daily, for years on end, had both of us laughing like a couple of hyenas on nitrous oxide. How many people get to do that for even one day? We’ve had 15 years, and for that I feel blessed.

But it hasn’t been just about fun. What Robert has done has mattered, to South Carolina and the nation (which is why he’s won every national award except the Pulitzer, and he’s been a finalist for that twice). Robert can pack more punch into a cartoon than I can get into a hundred columns. There’s just something about a funny picture with a point.

That’s why the prestigious Calhoun Lecture Series at the Strom Thurmond Institute at Clemson University had Robert deliver the last talk of the term, just last week. He spoke of the history of cartooning in general, and at The State in particular. Among other things, he told this story:

Robert is the second cartoonist actually to be employed (rather than contributing on a freelance basis) by the paper. During the 1910 gubernatorial campaign, the first one did a cartoon on the race-baiting populist Cole Blease. It was hard-hitting. The surviving Gonzales brothers (original editor N.G. Gonzales had been gunned down five years earlier) didn’t see the cartoon before it appeared in the paper. The cartoon was seen as so harsh that it was widely believed to have helped Mr. Blease win the election, by causing voters to feel sorry for him. The Gonzales brothers apparently decided that having a cartoonist was a risky thing, because they never hired another one.

In fact, the position remained vacant until Robert filled it in 1984. Before he started, he was interviewed by the late Ben Morris, then the publisher, who just had one thing to tell Robert: “Don’t surprise me.” It wasn’t until Robert read the history later that he understood the reference.

Here’s hoping cartoonists aren’t like comets. Here’s hoping it doesn’t take another 74 years for another one to streak across the sky.

Perhaps I’m being overly dramatic. After all, Robert will still be around. He has a new Web site, robertariail.com — just being set up as I write this — where he will post new cartoons, and where you can find links to his old ones. And he will still be syndicated nationally, which provides him with a monetary incentive to keep ’em coming.

Beyond that, I’m happy to have reason to believe Robert will be just fine.

You see, Robert is not my first close cartoonist friend. Richard Crowson and I were at Memphis State University together in the early ’70s. The first column I wrote for the editorial page of the journalism department lab paper was illustrated by a Crowson cartoon. After college, he and I worked together for a decade at The Jackson (Tenn.) Sun. After I became news editor at the much-larger paper in Wichita, Kansas, in 1985, I persuaded Richard to pull up roots and join me out West.

So imagine how I felt when The Wichita Eagle laid Richard off six months ago — for the same reasons Robert and I are leaving The State. I was so torn up about it that I didn’t call Richard to talk about it until two days ago. And guess what? He’s happy as a clam. “For me personally, the layoff has just been great,” he said as he was driving to a recording session (he’s the finest bluegrass musician I’ve ever known). “I don’t have any money, but… how do you put a value on peace of mind?” He doesn’t miss the daily pressure one bit.

And after all my worrying. Robert’s, too. We knew he was not long for this newspaper. Sadly (for me), it has cast a pall over our daily brainstorming sessions, sometimes making me impatient and crabby — although Robert kept cranking out wonderful cartoons anyway.

But the past few days, since the news broke, have been great. With the pressure off, the old fun has returned. That may sound odd, but it’s true.

And this is the way I’m going to remember it.

Robert and I will still collaborate at every opportunity. Find his future work at robertariail.com. My new address is bradwarthen.com.

A previous column about Robert Ariail

At the moment, I’m supposed to be writing a column for tomorrow’s paper about the departure from the paper of my dear friend Robert Ariail. I haven’t started that column yet. (Don’t tell Cindi; she’ll be in here beating me about the head and shoulders with a pica pole.)

Anyway, in the process of fixin’ to write that column, I looked back at this old one I wrote about him, back when he had a show of his work going on over at the State Museum, in 1998.

I share it with you while I set to work on the new one:

DO ME (AND YOURSELF) A FAVOR: INSULT ROBERT ARIAIL
State, The (Columbia, SC) – Sunday, March 15, 1998
Author: BRAD WARTHEN , Editorial Page Editor
The top five editorial cartoonists working today are Pat Oliphant, Robert Ariail . . . and I forget the other three. Based on the reams of syndicated cartoons we get, Robert Ariail throws away more good ideas in a day than other cartoonists publish in a week.

The State is lucky to have him. So is South Carolina.

And so am I. I get to supervise Robert , and that’s one of the best parts of my job. Actually, “supervise” isn’t exactly the word, since Robert is a guy who very much does his own thing. Instead, call what I do “vicarious participation in the creative process.” I get to be a close observer of the creation of really wonderful cartoons, at least five days a week. It’s the next best thing to having talent of your own.

But please, please don’t tell him I said any of that. Robert doesn’t need building up right now. What he needs is a good swift kick to the ego. Not that he has a swollen head yet. Robert ‘s still as unassuming as ever. But that can’t last, not at this rate.

To start with, you’re going to see his face on billboards around town. That’s not too bad; several of his colleagues will have the same experience. But with Robert , billboards are just the beginning.

Starting last week, Robert has been syndicated by United Media, which means cartoons that first appear in The State now go to more than 600 newspapers around the country.

Later this month, Robert will be the guest of honor for a do at the State Museum. This fete will have several purposes – celebrating his syndication, benefiting the museum (at $25 a pop) and kicking off a show of his cartoons.

And then there’s the national award – strike that, international award – that Robert just learned he has won. But I can’t tell you about that because it hasn’t been announced.

I can tell you that it isn’t a Pulitzer. A Pulitzer is about all he hasn’t won. The cardboard box in his office in which he keeps such things already contains a National Headliner Award, a national Sigma Delta Chi Award and two Green Eyeshade Awards (a mere regional prize). But still no Pulitzer. That’s about all I’ve got to cling to, my one hope for keeping the boy down on the farm.

And even with the Pulitzer, he’s come frighteningly close recently. In 1995, he was one of the three announced finalists. In 1996, according to a source on the jury, he was in the top six – which is closer than it sounds, since in the final stage the judges rejected the three finalists and went to the next three for their winner.

In 1997, I took desperate action to reverse this trend. Here’s the approach I took in the cover letter for his entry:

OK, folks, I’m beginning to lose patience with this process. Every year, Robert Ariail , arguably the best editorial cartoonist working in America today, submits a stellar Pulitzer entry. Every year, I write him a nice, respectful cover letter listing his virtues.

And every year, he ALMOST makes it. (But) every year, he ends up a bridesmaid. And if you think your cousin Ethel looked bad in a bridesmaid’s dress, you should see Robert .

I told Robert that being obnoxious and making stupid jokes would get the judges’ attention. He bought it. And my plan worked. In 1997, he didn’t get so much as a nod from the Pulitzer folks.

Why do I have to do all of this myself? You people could help. But no – everywhere I go, people have to go on about how they love that Robert Ariail . Even people who hate everything else on the pages have to throw him bouquets: “All of you scum-sucking Yankee Northern ‘Knight-Rider’ carpetbagger pinkos should go back where you came from (which in my case would be Marlboro County, but never mind). However, I find Ariail ‘s cartoons delightful.”

What are you people trying to do – run him off? How much more of this can one poor boy take without getting the idea that he’s too big to hang with us local yokels? Sure, he was born here, and his family’s here, but what’s all that in the glare of the bright lights?

People are always asking what it’s like to work with Robert Ariail . I’ll tell you: It’s a lot of fun, and I want to keep on doing it.

Every morning when he comes into my office to pitch cartoon ideas, we end up laughing like a couple of hyenas on nitrous oxide. People outside my office think we’re not working. Come to think of it, maybe I’m not. But Robert is. And is that fair?

Once, a colleague of mine at another paper, who fancied himself a great wit, asked Dave Barry why he got to write a fun, syndicated column and be the toast of the nation while the rest of us have to stay in the trenches putting out the paper every day. Dave just said, “Talent,” then jetted off to meet his next batch of admiring peasants.

Is this what you want to see happen with Robert Ariail ? I should hope not. So do something about it. What? I don’t know. Go to his show at the State Museum next month and make cutting remarks. It’s not much, maybe, but every little bit helps the cause.

You can write to Mr. Warthen at warthen @thestate.infi.net or at P.O. Box 1333, Columbia, S.C. 29202.

And no, that infi.net address doesn’t work any more. Once I get it up and running, my new e-mail address will be brad@bradwarthen.com, by the way.

Today’s column, other stuff on my new blog

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FYI, today's column — the long-promised one about Gresham Barrett (a perfectly pedestrian column that didn't deserve such a buildup, but at least it technically fulfills the promise) is to be found on my new blog, bradwarthen.com.

Also, I've posted a nice (I think) note I got from the governor, which I hope you will help me decipher…

Video: A brief history of cartooning at The State

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Robert Ariail delivered a lecture last Thursday night, as part of the prestigious Calhoun Lecture Series at the Strom Thurmond Institute at Clemson U. It was about the history of cartooning in general, and at The State in particular.

Today, he dropped by my office to share an anecdote that he told up in Clemson, one which seems particularly apropos to share today, the day the news came out that his career at The State is coming to an end.

It's about the only other cartoonist The State ever actually employed full-time, back in the days of the Gonzales brothers, and why it took 74 years for the paper to hire one
after its first experience...

Cindi’s very kind words today (and Bob’s last week)

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Don't know if you saw Cindi Scoppe's very touching column about me today. I pass on the link in case you missed it.

It means even more to me than you might think because, as she notes, she's not the sort to butter up the boss (certainly not one who's leaving), or anybody else. Cindi refers to herself as the "designated mean bitch" around here, which of course is entirely (or almost entirely) inaccurate. I prefer to think of her as tough-minded, which is what makes her one of the best in the business.

I'll tell you a little anecdote — Cindi was the first person (and just about the only one) to welcome me my first day on the job here. As Gordon Hirsch (a frequent commenter here) informed me, I was regarded as the "Knight-Ridder spy" because I was the first editor to come from another KR paper. It didn't matter that I had left Wichita the way Lot left Sodom. It was a lousy working situation, and I never looked back. But many here were convinced I was the corporate guy, so I got a lot of suspicious looks. (When I explained to Gordon how ridiculous it was, he shook his head and said none of that mattered. Far as scuttlebutt was concerned, I was the spy, so I might as well get used to it.) But Cindi, all of 23 years old at the time, strides through that cloud of suspicion right up to me, sticks out her hand and makes it clear that she, for one, was glad to have me here.

So it's fitting that she should bid me a public farewell. She didn't care who knew she was glad to meet me, and isn't a bit shy to let folks know she's sorry to see me go. And I've appreciated it both times.

While I'm thanking people, I have to apologize because in all the craziness of last week, I never got around to thanking Bob McAlister for the kind words that he wrote on his blog, which we published as an online-only column (online-only because we had recently run a column of his in the paper, so he was under our "30-day" guideline).

Bob, as I recall, regarded me a good deal more warily than Cindi, upon first meeting me. He was the communications chief — later chief of staff — for Gov. Carroll Campbell. It was his duty to be suspicious. But over the years we've fought a few battles together and become good friends. Bob is one of many such friends who have reached out and offered to do whatever they can to help in recent days, and in his case has actually taken action to ease my transition to … well, to whatever comes next.

Anyway, I wanted to be sure to thank both Cindi and Bob for thinking so kindly of me, from their differing perspectives.

The news about Robert Ariail

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Several of you asked whether my great friend Robert Ariail would be laid off. Well, today you got your answer. The delay because Robert was mulling an offer to stay on part-time, which he decided to decline.

Read Chuck Crumbo's story about Robert here. An excerpt:

Ariail, who joined The State in 1984, said he planned to continue
his work through United Media syndicate, which serves more than 600
newspapers and magazines.

“I
hope to find another job in editorial cartooning,” said Ariail, whose
last day at The State is Thursday. “I’m 53. It’s difficult to remake
myself, and I don’t want to.”

Among those laid off was Ariail’s boss for the past 15 years, vice president and editorial page editor Brad Warthen.

“Robert is probably one of the most talented people I’ve ever worked with,” Warthen said.

One of Ariail’s strengths is his ability to needle and criticize leaders of all political persuasions, he said.

“Even
people who hate everything else on the editorial pages have to throw
him bouquets,” Warthen wrote in a forward to cartoonist’s 2001 book
“Ariail!!!,” a compilation of cartoons published in The State.

I'll post more about Robert later. I just wanted to go ahead and get this up, to give y'all a place to comment.

I infiltrate the unemployment system

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How dedicated am I to my craft? This dedicated: with the conflict between the governor and the Employment Security Commission being a burning issue in our state, I went and got myself laid off so I could go undercover and find out how the unemployment system in this state really works. I'm a regular Alec Leamas or something. That's my story anyway.

I learned an awful lot about it today — so much that I'm too tired now to sort through it all; I'd be writing all night. But it will produce a lot of fodder for the blog in the coming days, I expect. For tonight, I'll just pass on this tidbit…

The State invited representatives from various agencies who provide unemployment services — Employment Security, Commerce, and another program that I need to go back and clarify under which umbrella it falls — out to the paper to get the 38 folks laid off started on filing for help in finding a job, retraining, and getting those checks the ESC processes if you don't find a job right away. (And believe me, those checks are so small that you don't want to be unemployed and dependent upon them for five seconds more than absolutely necessary; they're a tremendous motivation to find a job.)

I spent about three hours with these various folks, and took copious notes. And I want to say that they were all very helpful and knowledgeable and professional and encouraging, which really helped me learn a lot for only three hours spent.

But you should get a chuckle out of this part: Someone was explaining to us about WorkKeys. Do you know about those? Basically, you take a battery of aptitude tests, and you get scores on a range of skills, and employers tell the gummint they want X number of workers who have scored at least a 4 in each category, or whatever, and you get matched up.

The gummint administers the test for free, and will even help you get training to get a higher score where you're lacking. You get certified, I think he said, with a rating of Bronze, Silver, Gold or Platinum. (There aren't many platinums, he said.)

But here's the best part. He said, "You also get a certificate, signed by the governor, saying that you are work-ready."

Now see, if I'd known this yesterday when the governor called me, I could have saved myself the time it will take to take those tests. I could have pointed out that if anybody knows what I am capable of, it's the governor. He probably would have whipped me out a certificate of work-readiness on the spot. So I guess I missed my chance.

The unspeakable horror

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This was a terrible day for news about children.

The awful thing is that the front-page story about the boy shot and killed by his brother while they were idle on a "snow" day was not the worst, most appallingly horrific such news in the paper.

It was awful enough. In my long career in this business, I am often shocked at how unbelievably trivial the incidents leading to domestic homicides (the most common kind) can be. Although I can't remember whether this happened in Tennessee or Kansas or South Carolina (the three places I've worked), the archetype in my mind was a case in which two grown men who were related to each other (I want to say an uncle and his nephew) were drinking heavily, and one shot the other after the quarreled over what to watch on TV.

This case exceeds that one in sheer awfulness, and not only because it was children involved. These boys were arguing over who would sit where while they watched TV. The mind reels, this is so terribly sad and unnecessary.

And those words — "terribly sad and unnecessary" — are so pathetically inadequate. You have to be a better writer than I am to describe it adequately, and I mean a MUCH better writer. Conrad got at it with Kurtz' raw whisper, "The horror! The horror!" Obviously, you don't have to travel to deepest Africa to find the Heart of Darkness.

Then there's Dostoevsky, of whom I was reminded in reading the second, and even worse, item in today's paper. Ivan Karamazov, world-class cynic, told his idealistic brother, "You see, I am fond of collecting certain facts, and, would you believe, I even copy anecdotes of a certain sort from newspapers and books, and I've already got a fine collection." They tended to be of horrific incidents of unspeakably terrible things being done to children, and they confirmed him in his dim view of humanity.

This second story would have fit perfectly in his collection. Before I share it let me warn you that this is by far the most horrible, shocking, painful-to-read thing I have ever posted on this blog.

That said, here it is:

SUMTER, S.C. — The parents of five South Carolina children have been charged after their 1-year-old boy starved to death in a Sumter home crawling with rats and roaches, authorities said Tuesday.
    The toddler, who has not been named, was found unresponsive Monday at a home that Sumter County Coroner Harvin Bullock described as filthy and unsuitable for living.
    The child was taken to a hospital, where he was pronounced dead, Sumter Police Chief Patty Patterson said.
    A police report listed the toddler's weight as 4 pounds.
    The boy's parents have been arrested and charged with homicide by child abuse and unlawful conduct. Kevin Dewayne Isaac, 25, and Marketta Sharnise McCray, 23, were in jail Tuesday awaiting a bond hearing, and it was not immediately clear if they had attorneys, police said.
    If convicted on the homicide by child abuse charge, Isaac and McCray could face life in prison, and Patterson said more charges could be forthcoming.
    The boy's twin sister, whose weight was listed as 9 pounds, has been hospitalized for malnutrition, and three other children in the home have been placed in state custody.
    Those children – ages 4, 6, and 9 – are being checked out by physicians, Patterson said.

As I read that in the paper this morning, it struck me as so massively tragic that the pages of a newspaper seemed far too frail and insubstantial to support it. The item — which is about a child who was a twin, and almost exactly the same age as my precious twin grandchildren — should have dropped through the page, through my breakfast table, and plunged straight into the netherworld before I could see it. Yet there it was.

Ironically, today was the same day that The New York Times editorialized, again, to this effect:

We were horrified to be reminded that the nation still has not plumbed the depths of the Bush administration’s abuses….

Remember when I wrote about that several months ago, about how easy it was to inspire "horror" in the eyes of the NYT editorial board? I even wrote a follow-up to provide a little perspective on things we should truly "watch with horror." I even included some pictures that were very painful to look at.

But you know what? This news about this poor child starved to death is harder to take than what I cited before. You see something like this, and you want to be distracted from it. You say, by all means let's talk instead about how filled with horror we are at that awful George W. Bush and the unspeakable things he did. Let's indict him. After all, the NYT accuses him of "mangling the Constitution." Let's have show trials, 24/7 on television. I promise to shout and wave a pitchfork. Anything to avoid thinking about that little item I read in the paper this morning.

Because I don't want to think about that any more.

Just another one of our little secrets

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A colleague passes on this reader complaint, with the comment, "What planet does this person live on?":

I would like to know why we don't hear more from SC or Columbia's media about the Governor's inclination to refuse the stimulus monies when SC is in such desparate need. This state ranks about last economically,educationally, yet ranks high on crimes. Shouldn't this money be extremely vital to SC… is the media bias… playing politics or what?

Dang, and after all our efforts to keep the governor's position on this secret…

TNR on the ‘end’ of newspapers

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Over the weekend, I was at a community gathering at which pretty much everyone I ran into expressed concerns about what's happening to newspapers these days, and particular their newspaper, The State. I appreciated the concern.

Since then, of course, we've had the bankruptcy of the papers in Philly, which along with other recent developments inspired Robert's cartoon today.

Now I get an alert to this cover story in the next edition of The New Republic, headlined "THE END OF THE PRESS: Democracy Loses its Best Friend." It's by Princeton prof Paul Starr. It begins:

We take newspapers for granted. They have been so integral a part of daily life in America, so central to politics and culture and business, and so powerful and profitable in their own right, that it is easy to forget what a remarkable historical invention they are. Public goods are notoriously under-produced in the marketplace, and news is a public good—and yet, since the mid-nineteenth century, newspapers have produced news in abundance at a cheap price to readers and without need of direct subsidy. More than any other medium, newspapers have been our eyes on the state, our check on private abuses, our civic alarm systems. It is true that they have often failed to perform those functions as well as they should have done. But whether they can continue to perform them at all is now in doubt.

Actually, I suppose I take the points Mr. Starr makes in his piece pretty much for granted, since I live and breathe them — which doesn't mean I don't attach importance to them, because we're talking about some horrific stuff from where I sit. I just find myself going, "Well, duh," a lot as I read it, but some of it might make points you haven't thought about. And he DOES bring up some ideas I had NOT thought about, such as some of his ideas on how to save newspapers — which seem to be sort of out of left field until you realize that nobody has any better ideas (that can be shown to work), which is sobering to say the least.

Just keeping y'all in the loop folks, as I've been doing. I don't know how much of this stuff you want brought to your attention, since it isn't, like, your living the way it is mine…