JOSEPH F. KWAPIL
Memorial Award: 1995
JOSEPH F. KWAPIL
1882-1933
Barbara Semonche's Acceptance Speech
of the Joseph F. Kwapil Memorial Award
SLA News Division's Awards Banquet,
June 12, 1995
Mount Stephan Club
Montreal, Canada
Good evening!
After listening to Richard Geiger's and Bob Isaacs' warm-hearted and over-enthusiastic testimonial, I feel compelled to introduce myself as the OTHER Barbara Semonche. Nevertheless, I accept the Joseph F. Kwapil Award with genuine gratitude and great pleasure. I thank the News Division's Awards Committee for this treasured honor.
There are previous Kwapil Award honorees here this evening and I would like them all to stand and receive your warm tribute. We are proud of all of them!
And now a toast to our future. Would all students and first-time conference attendees please stand and be warmly recognized.
Most of you know that my escort for these Award Banquets has always been my husband, John Semonche. For those who have not had the pleasure of meeting Jack permit me to introduce him. He's a gentleman, a constitutional historian, a legal scholar, and award-winning computer whiz. He is also a good deal more than that, but no need for details now. We will celebrate our 33rd wedding anniversary this week. My husband and best friend. Jack, please stand.
For such a beautiful, historical setting this evening, we need a rousing endorsement for Agnes McFarlane and her planning Committee. Agnes, you and your committee need to stand and take a bow.
And while we are in Montreal, let us cheer for ALL our Canadian colleagues here this evening. Please stand.
And to all my Carolina Cohorts, North and South, current and previous, Ginny Hauswald, Bob Beall, Daisy Maxwell, Teresa Leonard, Justin Scroggs, Denice Jones, Sarah Klemmer, a sincere Semonche salute. Dargan Richards, that means you. You, too, Lany McDonald. (You can take the gal out of Carolina, BUT you can't take the Carolina out of the gal.) Likewise for Bob Isaacs, and Atlanta's Susan Hill. When I needed support and guidance you all were there for me. I'm in your debt.
This has been an extraordinary Spring for me. Good things seem to come in threes. First, my daughter was married, next the SLA announcement about that "Fellow" thing, and now, tonight, the Kwapil Award. The first was happily anticipated; the second still has me somewhat stunned. And the third, the Kwapil, comes mixed with pleasure and mystery.
Who was Joseph Kwapil? Why does the News Division honor him? A careful research revealed little published about or by him. Only a few photos of him exist. Admittedly, not much to go on.It would have been great to have interviewed him. That thought stayed with me one Spring evening. I carried my "special brand of southern liquid refreshment" to our terrace, stretched out on a chair, propped my feet up and meditated.
The late afternoon rain stopped. Dusk settled. A light breeze carried the faint fragrance of honeysuckle. A mockingbird serenaded. Silence stole in. (Have we entered virtual reality here? Good. To continue.)
A buzzer sounded. A voice spoke: "Mr. Kwapil will see you now."
Before I could respond I was escorted through the security gate. We wound through carpeted hallways, past glass-partitioned offices, map-covered walls arriving at a double door. We passed through the threshold arriving in an enormous light-filled room, stacked to the ceiling with books, directories, catalogues, indexes, clipping files, and photo boxes.
This must be the place! A veritable life-support system for newspapers! My guide retreated. I was on my own. I called out, "Anyone here?"
"Follow your nose," came a man's voice. I did, winding my way through the narrow cabinet-lined aisles.
I found him. Seated at a large wooden desk in front of a huge window. Couldn't see anything through it, though. He wore a light grey suit, double breasted, a dazzling white shirt, dark tie with a small knot. His round, wire-rimmed glasses obscured his eyes. His face, clean shaven. Closely barbered grey hair parted in the middle. For some reason, he reminded me of President Truman. He stood.
"Mr. Kwapil, I presume."
"Mrs. Semonche, I've been expecting you."
Astonished, I squeaked, "You have?"
"Yes, of course. I keep track of things . . . and of people."Still stunned, I could think of no response. Here I was, my wish to interview Kwapil come true, and I didn't know what to say. All I could do was stare!
As I was fumbling with what to say, I saw it. I expected a typewriter, one of the old reliable upright Underwoods. But there it was. A COMPUTER. I gasped. Mr. Kwapil smiled, briefly, and invited me to come for a closer look.
It was a Pentium! Complete with a 17 inch monitor, Windows 6.0, Excel, Word Perfect, sound blaster card, 28,800 bps modem, CD-ROM, and Netscape. A complete multimedia set-up. Extraordinary. Hmmm. Something else . . . . There was an icon on the screen. CIS. I turned to Mr. Kwapil questioningly.
"CIS. Congressional Information Service? Or perhaps Canadian Intelligence Searches?"
Kwapil replied with a bit of pride, "Neither. It stands for Celestial Imaging Systems."
"But Mr. Kwapil . . . how did you . . . ?"
"It shouldn't be so surprising that we keep up-to-date here. I've been following the News Division on the Internet. I just wish that we could have had such networking capability years ago. By the way, that newsletter, what do you call it? News Library News? It's capital!Again I was speechless, but I recovered.
"You mean that you actually read our newsletter? How is that possible? Are you a NewsLib subscriber? What is your e-mail address? Have you posted to our list? I haven't read any messages from you?"
"One question at a time, Mrs. Semonche. Consider carefully. Just where do you think cyberspace is, anyway?" He was smiling. I was still mystified.
"But, Mr. Kwapil, why haven't we heard from you? We need your advice and counsel as we have never before."
"Well, it seems we don't yet have full interactive capability here. We can capture text, graphics, and data but we just can't send messages. Not sure when we can get that feature operational." He looked a tad defensive.Still puzzled, I said, "I see." Not really, of course, but I wanted to be polite.
Salvation came in the form of a question. "Mr. Kwapil, is it true that in 1924 you spent your own money and volunteered your own time to contact all the newspaper librarians for the purpose of setting up the first conference?"
Mr. Kwapil peered at me thoughtfully. At last he said, "Is that rumor still flying?"
"Well, not very far. Not too many of the veterans left to repeat it. But is it true? That you are singlehandedly responsible for getting our Division off the ground?"
"No one person is responsible for that accomplishment. Besides, it is easy to start things. Anyone can do that. It is another thing entirely to encourage growth and development. So don't give me any extra credit. By the way, there were 7 of us there at that first meeting. Do your homework and discover who they were."
"Yes, sir.I was silent. No follow-up question. Some interviewer I'd make!
Finally, Kwapil took the lead.
"Tell me, what happened to that Lightfoot fellow."
"Lightfoot?"
"Lightfoot, Lighthouse, Lighthorse. Something like that. He spoke at the last Awards banquet. In Atlanta. A quick wit. He had everyone laughing."
Light dawned. "Oh, you mean Ben Lightman! Well, he's retired from Time, Inc., and living in Washington, DC, translating old Russian manuscripts . . . or something like that."
"Well, what about that Florida librarian. He's been with the News Division a long time."
"Do you mean Bob Isaacs? Or Jim Scofield? They are both Kwapil Award winners. Bob has worked wonders with photo archiving."
"The one who's Greek. Travels all over. Into politics. Gets his picture taken with presidents and archbishops and maitre de's."
"That would be Scofield. He retired from the St. Pete Times. He still travels; he'll be in Montreal."
"Good, good! Now, let's see. There was someone else. From New York. Italian, I think. Good speaker. Interested in politics too. How is he doing?"
"You mean Mario Cumo?"
"No, no. This one worked for NewsDay."
"Oh, that would be Andy Ippolito. He runs his own publishing company now. Very generous, too. Came though with a substantial check as a gift for the News Division last year. Just when we need it most."
"Good man. Wasn't there a gentle southern lady from Louisiana? And that gentleman from New Jersey. They were good friends of Agnes Henebry."
"That would be Lou Thomas. She is retired and living in Baton Rouge, but still follows News Division action. And so does Homer Martin. He's also retired from The Record. He's absorbed with his family and new grandchildren. I'll wager that he still enjoys the opera and keeps up with News Division events. They represent our best. And how is Miss Agnes?
"Fine, just fine. Busy, of course. Agnes is sorry not be here to greet you. She's off watching over the neophyte librarians, as usual. She's particularly interested in a couple of your veterans. One from South Carolina, the other from Illinois. By the way, Agnes did get your letter."
"She did! How extraordinary! And speaking of the doyennes of the Division, have you seen Rose Vormelker?"
"Rose arrived in November. She was pretty tuckered out. But she'll be back organizing people, books, files and task forces any day now. How that woman loves to teach! So the Newspaper Group is in Montreal. Must be a fine place. Is that where that David Rhydwen fellow came from?"
"No, he worked for years with the Toronto Globe-Mail. A miracle man with computers and microfilm. Both David and Lou Thomas are our SLA John Cotton Dana Award recipients. David became Carol Lindsay's mentor. But you haven't seen him?"
"Oh, he's around. Just involved with rare books, high art, and lost manuscripts. Quite a colorful chap. Now then. I recall a newspaper librarian from the Western part of Canada. Vancouver, I think. She's a contemporary of Carol Lindsay's. A pair of sterling leaders, those two. The one I'm thinking of was with the Pacific Press. What's her name and what is she doing now."
"That would be Shirley Mooney Aabjerg. She's retired, married and will be in Montreal tonight. Both Carol and Shirley served the Division with distinction."
"Hmmmm. It seems that the News Division has done very well in the past seven decades."
"Absolutely! We have over 800 members from the U.S., Canada, and 15 foreign countries!"
"Keeping in touch must be quite a challenge. What's this I hear about a News Division Home Page being created for the Web?"
"Mr. Kwapil, you really do keep up-to-date. Pete Basofin, news researcher, sometime columnist, and net guru with the Sacramento Bee is leading the charge in that area. He has some help from the likes of Barbara Shapiro from Palm Beach Post who has her own web home page, Jim Hunter from Columbus, and Nora Paul from the Poynter Institute for Media Studies."
"Nora Paul. Now that name sounds familiar."
"It should, Mr. Kwapil. She is practically the "Voice of the News Division." She has also been known to sing on special occasions. When Nora speaks, editors, publishers, corporate executives listen."
Kwapil looked thoughtful and noted, "I guess I don't have to tell you that it didn't use to be like that."
"No, Mr. Kwapil. But it is nice to discover that we have indeed come a long way. But have you heard the latest? About Mary Kate Fleming?"
"Would she be the news research director for the Palm Beach Post who has recently been promoted to Assistant Managing Editor for that paper?"
"Yes, it would. You really are well connected, Mr. Kwapil. And she is not the only one. Researchers are discovering new roles to play in news organizations. But that is just what I want to talk to you about, Mr. Kwapil."A buzzer sounded.
"Your next appointment is here, Mr. Kwapil."
"Thank you, Marian. I'll be ready in a minute."
"Sorry to take so much time, Mr. Kwapil. . ."
"Please call me Joe."
"Joe, it is then. And call me Barbara. But there is so much I need to ask you. You see these are truly troubled times for newspaper, television and radio organizations. Technology has reached invasion proportions and is just about as hard to manage. There are rapid fire mergers, restructurings, closings, layoffs, buyouts. Besides these corporate disasters, there are the 'natural` kind. Fires, floods, earthquakes. And, unbelievably, bombings. It's hard to keep up with, difficult to make sense of, and impossible to understand. We're looking for a sense of direction, a sense of purpose, and balance. You have the perspective, the expertise, and the leadership to help us. Surely you have something to say that we need to hear."Joe Kwapil stood, turned to the window and removed his spectacles. With his breast pocket handkerchief he polished the lenses. He replaced his glasses and continued looking out the window. I waited. He walked round the desk. I stood. Joe gestured to the double doors. We walked toward them, slowly. Quietly, he spoke.
"There is nothing I could say that could help the Division."
I stopped and turned to face him. "But Joe, surely . . . "
"You already have the best and the brightest working at your side. Talented researchers, gifted managers, and inspired visionaries. I'm thinking of, just to mention a few, M. J. Crowley, Kathy Foley, Carolyn Hardnett, Teresa Leonard, Kitty Bennett, John Sinclair, Richard Geiger, John Jansen, Julie Kirsch, Kathy Trimble, Judy Canter, and George Schlukbier. By the way, did George really broker the deal between The News & Observer and McClatchy? And if so, why was he in Sardinia, of all places, when the deal was going down?""I've no idea, Joe." Where does he get his inside information? "But perhaps he just likes to travel. I can tell you that George is a native of Canada; we like to think of him as simply on interlibrary loan to The N&O.
Joe looked skeptical. He continued.
"The News Division conference is probably the largest single gathering of the best brains in fact-finding and information analysis since Peterson, Foster, Miller, Keil, Alcott, Goodman, Symonds and I shared lunch in Saratoga Springs 71 years ago. Ours was not the challenge that you face, but you and your colleagues can do it together. There is nothing of value I can say. I'm part of the Division's past. You and your colleagues are the present. You'll discover the way. . . your own way."
"But it would mean so much, Joe, to the members to have a message from you."
The pause lengthened. We continued walking. At last, he spoke.
"Tell them . . . I'm proud of them. Tell them . . . I'm very proud of every single one of them."
"I'll deliver the message, Joe."
We shook hands. Just as I was about to walk through the door, Joe inquired, "Where will the Division's conference be next year?"
"Boston."
"Nice place Boston. Some good papers in that city. The Globe. The Herald. The Christian Science Monitor. And some fine news librarians. Any chance Lightfoot will be there? It seems that a sense of humor might be in order."He held the door for me and asked, "You'll deliver my message?"
"I will."
And I did.