Eliyahu Gasson | editor-in-chief

 
I see Duquesne University as I do any other thing. It’s a complicated machine made up mostly of fundamentally good people who are here to learn and grow, whether they’re students, staff or faculty. However, never before my time at Duquesne had I ever directly experienced legitimate antisemitism on a personal level.

It was in a class about the Catholic Church and environmentalism that a student — who knew I was Jewish — threw a sieg heil at me from across a board room table.

It took some time for me to learn that this singular student’s behaviors and beliefs were not indicative of what this university is or was. But at the time, I was convinced that I was surrounded by a disproportionate number of antisemites.

I wound up at Duquesne because it accepted me into their environmental science program. I was relieved that, despite being a community college drop-out and a dry cleanering clerk for the two years since graduating high school, that I still had some chance of getting into higher education.

But environmental science was not for me. I’m more of a writer than a mathematician. So I switched to journalism for my second semester.

It was at a Media Department orientation that I met my departmental advisor Dr. Walck. She was looking for students interested in journalism to rebuild the university’s chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists. She gave a date for a meeting and said anyone who was interested could attend. I was the only one who went.

For some reason I was determined to make it work, so I made flyers with a second meeting time and hung them around College Hall.

Two people showed up to the next meeting, Zach Petroff and Isabella Abbott, who were then the opinions editor and features editor of The Duke. They unanimously elected me president of the SPJ. As we were leaving the meeting, Zach recruited me to write a column for The Duke, a column exploring the effectiveness of presidential debates.

Sometime around then (I can’t recall if it was before or after) I went to an open house for Duquesne Student Radio (DSR). My expressed interest in being a part of the technical team got me an interview with advisor Don Maue, who hired me as the station’s engineer. We had hourly meetings every week following that.

Second semester of freshman year to first semester of junior year involved doing work for DSR, writing opinions for The Duke and running the SPJ. I went to class too, but I never felt comfortable outside of the studios or the newsroom because of the people like the guy who threw the sieg heil. I assumed anyone who I didn’t know in the studio or the newsroom wanted to do the same thing if not something worse.

I fell into the comfort of The Duke and DSR and did what I could to be more involved. When I heard Zach would be graduating and the opinions desk was opening up, I jumped at the opportunity to apply, and I got it.

I spent my junior year editing opinions and helping report news, features and a&e. I got close to the other editors and built up a reliable staff. I got into a comfortable groove and put much of my time throughout the week into my section (sometimes to the detriment of my classwork).

The newsroom became my sanctuary and the paper my creative outlet. However, my reason for being here started to change when we started working on our 100th Anniversary Issue. I spent hours going through our archives, looking at microfilm and interviewing former editors to put together my contributions to the issue. The experience opened up the question: How did this paper survive 100 years?

As a passive consumer of media, it’s easy to believe that some things just run themselves — that with enough people and institutional support, newspapers, magazines, radio broadcasts and television shows just happen. But as Don likes to say, there’s no such thing as a thing.

The Duke is a machine made up of people who have worked with it either directly or indirectly. It’s made up of current members, like our advisor Paula Ward, who puts up with our shenanigans despite what it does to her cortisol levels. It involves News Editor Kaitlyn Hughes and Features Editor Josh Imhof, who consistently go above and beyond at great personal expense. It involves Opinions Editor Naomi Girson, who always seems to have a reason to challenge people, even if she already agrees with them. It’s people like Sports Editor Ben Deihl, and Ads Manager Christian Witterman, who have been able and willing to learn from their mistakes and adapt quickly to criticism. It’s A&E Editor Charlotte Shields-Rossi, who is comedically unmatched. It’s Layout Editor Diva KC, who has never once complained about their job (a rarity in our newsroom).

But The Duke is also the people who no longer work with it, like Anthony Conroy, who helped us with our layout, former News Editor Megan Trotter, former Editor-in-Chief and Sports Editor Spencer Thomas, former Layout Editor Ember Duke and former A&E Editor Emily Fritz, who set a standard for what their jobs were. It’s people like professor Maggie Patterson, who we lost last year right after we celebrated our centennial.

Maggie dedicated her life to supporting The Duke, young journalists and students alike. When this paper faced possible shut down in 1989, she fought ardently for it, becoming a founding member of the Student Publication’s Board, which acts now as a mediator between independent student media on campus and the administration.

She did it because she cared about media as a tool for good and young peoples’ ability to make their voices heard and to be a part of the conversation.

Now, as I prepare to walk the stage and get a real job in the real world, I’m reflecting again on why I spent so much of my time at The Duke. It’s the people, sure, but it’s also the value.

Tikkun Olam is Hebrew for “repairing the world.” The interpretation and implementation of that depends on which Jewish philosophy you follow, if any. I choose to interpret it as a call to action — that our world is broken and we each have a duty as people in the world to use our talents to repair it as much as we can. Journalism is my way of helping to repair the world.

Duquesne and The Duke have exposed me to things I had never experienced. They taught me to deal with hatred and controversy. They taught me how to forgive and to trust. They taught me how to be a leader.

I’m thankful to Duquesne University and The Duke and all of their constituent parts, of which I am one, for giving me the opportunity to do my part. It took a chance on a strange 20-something like me. That kindness is not lost on me and I am eternally grateful for everything it and Duquesne has offered, from that sieg heil to The Duke’s centennial celebration.

I’m looking forward to the next 100 years.

Eliyahu Gasson can be reached at gassone@duq.edu