[light contemporary music] - For 24 years, Barry Saunders informed and entertained readers of "The News & Observer."

Then he was gone.

After a three-year break, he came back, not only to write for "The News & Observer," also "The Herald-Sun" and "The Charlotte Observer."

And with two books under his belt, "Do Unto Others and Then Run" and "The Horse You Rode In On," Barry Saunders may be North Carolina's most prolific author, and for many, the most popular one as well.

We'll learn more when we visit with Barry Saunders about his writing and his life, when we talk to him on "North Carolina Bookwatch," next.

- [Announcer] Quality public television is made possible through the financial contributions of viewers like you, who invite you to join them in supporting PBS NC.

[light contemporary jazz] ♪ - Welcome to "North Carolina Bookwatch," and to Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill, one of North Carolina's great supporters of writers, and of "North Carolina Bookwatch."

I'm DG Martin, and my guest is Barry Saunders, acclaimed columnist and author of "Do Unto Others and Then Run," and, "And the Horse You Rode In On."

Barry Saunders, welcome and thanks for joining us.

Well, Barry Saunders, you're a North Carolina native, grew up in a small town.

You become one of North Carolina's most admired writers and columnists.

So we're so happy to have you on "North Carolina Bookwatch."

- I'm delighted to be here, DG.

- Tell us a little bit about your growing up.

- Well, as you mentioned, I grew up in a little town called Rockingham.

The nearest town to it was, nearest town that anybody's ever heard of, probably, was Charlotte, which was 60 miles away, which was not that really close, but that's the closest town to where I grew up.

- How did your growing up years lead to you becoming a writer?

Did you know in school that you were gonna be a writer?

- Well, it was the one thing I was always good at, I had some proficiency at.

I really went away to college.

When I left high school, I went to college to become a preacher, and then I discovered women and liquor, [DG laughs] and I realized that that voice that I thought I heard calling out to me was not from on high.

And I realized that you could reach just as many people writing as you could preaching, but you didn't have to be, walk the straight and narrow as a writer.

- Well, how did you get your first job writing?

- My first job writing was at "The Atlanta Constitution," when I was a student at Morehouse College in Atlanta.

And I was a copy boy, a position that I don't think even exists anymore.

But if a reporter or editor was on deadline, and had forgotten to get their clothes out of the dry cleaners or couldn't get lunch, I was the one who would go do that.

So I was pretty much a glorified gopher.

Then I was promoted up to obituary writer, which shows you how low on the totem pole I was, if I went up to obituary writer.

- Well, what, how did the obituary writing prepare you for being a columnist?

- Oh my goodness, I think every journalist should spend time on the obituary desk, because you realize just how important accuracy is.

A lot of times people, the only time they're mentioned in a newspaper is when they die, and family members are very strong.

They feel very strongly about the accuracy of obits.

And I made a few major league boners in writing obits, and it has informed my column writing, my reporting, everything.

- Well, did you call somebody a rat or something, did you- - Oh, how did you know?

There was a guy who died, and he had a brother who was surviving named Ray Brown.

But of course, when I wrote it, it came out "Rat Brown."

And of course the family justifiably was upset to see their loved one referred to as Rat Brown.

- Well, what was the punishment for that at the paper?

- Just a lot of harsh looks from editors, yeah.

- Well now you're a North Carolina native, and then you're moving up the ladder at one of America's finest newspapers.

What got you off that track, and where did you go?

- Well, because I didn't graduate college, I quit after my junior year, when I got the job at "The Atlanta Constitution," because I knew that's what I always wanted to do.

But my editors had this idea that unless you got a degree, you couldn't move up to be a reporter.

So my hometown paper in Rockingham, the "Daily Journal," owned by J. Neal Cadieu, called me, asked me if I'd want to be a reporter in my hometown paper.

So I went back to my hometown paper.

- How'd that work?

- It worked well for about a year, but there just wasn't enough really gripping news that I wanted to do.

So I moved to Washington, and started something called the "Saunders Syndicated News Service," where I provided copy for small papers around the country.

- Wow, when you were in Rockingham working for the paper, was there a guy in there named Glen Sides?

- Glen, I don't remember Glen Sides.

Glen Sumpter is the editor- - Glen Sumpter.

- Who hired me.

- That's the, yeah.

- Glen, one of my favorite human beings in the world.

- Tell us about him.

- Glen, I'll tell you what.

On my first day at work, this was my introduction to the paper.

He had a little mustard-colored Nissan that was full of crap.

So we went to the inaugural lunch.

We went to the 7-Eleven, got a six-pack of beer and a giant bag of FUNYUNS, and drove around town.

And he showed me what I would be covering.

And and then years later, when everybody got justifiably upset about drinking and driving, you know, I thought people would be upset about that, and they were, and so Glen called me.

And I thought he would be angry that I mentioned that we went drinking beer and eating FUNYUNS on the job, but he was upset because I called his car a Nissan, when it was actually a Datsun.

[DG laughs] And he said, "Saunders, you idiot!

It was a Datsun, not a Nissan!"

- What did you learn from him and from the other people of that small town Rockingham paper?

- Well, you know what, the thing about writing for a small town newspaper is that when you write about people, you run into those people, and their family members.

It's much more impersonal in a large city.

You'll write something about somebody and you'd never see 'em, and so you don't know what impact that story had on 'em.

But if you write something about somebody in a small town, you're liable to run into them or their family members in the grocery store, at the pool room, anywhere, and I think it makes you much more sensitive about how you portray people.

- Well, you told us that you left Rockingham, your hometown, where you had a good job with the newspaper, and went to Washington?

- I went to Washington- - Tell us about that.

- And started a syndicated news service for a string of African American papers, who could not afford their own D.C. correspondent.

So I was the D.C. correspondent for a string of about 80 papers.

And it should have been very profitable, but for some reason they forgot to pay me.

So I would- - So each paper would pay you, or was there a group of 'em that- - That was the idea, but it didn't quite work out that way.

And I was only charging like $20 a week for 80 papers, you know, which would have been a really, pretty good piece back then.

Of course, this was before the internet, where you could just type a story on the computer and hit send.

So you had to pay postage, type it up, mail it out, take a couple a days for it to get there, and hope that the news wasn't obsolete by the time it arrived.

- Along this way, what were you learning about writing columns?

Did you, was this a profitable progression of your learning as well as, and what did you learn?

- I knew it could be.

And I realized that the best, the most important trait a columnist can have, of course, a facility with the English language is important, but also a thick skin, because people will call you everything but a Reuben sandwich, and you have to be able to take it, you know, withstand that.

And you can't worry about losing your popularity.

Fortunately, for me, I was never popular.

So I never had to worry about losing popularity.

- [laughs] Oh, well you're very, very popular around here.

But tell us about how the Washington, how you managed to come from Washington back to North Carolina.

- Well, I came back pretty much like a scalded hound with my tail tucked between my legs.

The city proved to be too much, and I wasn't making the kind of money I wanted.

So I moved back to Rockingham and started my own newspaper, the "Richmond County North Star."

- Now, how did that work out?

- Well, it survived for three years.

It was actually profitable, but the profits came in in dribs and drabs, and the bills came in in torrents.

So the income didn't keep pace with the outcome- - Well, you were competing against the, the main Rockingham paper.

- No, fortunately to his everlasting credit, neither Glen Sumpter nor J. Neal Cadieu, the owner, considered me the opposition or competition.

- So you were focused on an African American audience, or- - No, I focused on anything that I thought would make people spend a quarter for my newspaper.

- And so, well, how did that work economically?

- Well, it should have worked very well, but again, the bills came in much more quickly.

And again, this was prior to the advent of the personal computer, so everything was labor-intensive.

I had to go out, report the story, go back to my office and type it, take it to Laurinburg, to the "Laurinburg Exchange" newspaper, to get it typeset, and then take it to another paper to get it printed.

So it was a lot of, it was very labor-intensive.

- Well, how did all of this lead to your coming to the Raleigh "News & Observer?"

- Well, in Rockingham, after three years of being broke, busted and disgusted, and after the landlord found all my hiding places, I had to get a new job.

And the Gary "Post-Tribune" called me and asked me if I wanted to come there and be a reporter, and I went- - Where is the Gary, where is that?

- It's in Gary, Indiana.

- And so you're gonna move to Indiana?

You're gonna move outta- - I moved to Indiana.

- And they hired you as a columnist?

- No, they hired me as a reporter.

- And how did that work out?

- Well, it was very, an enlightening experience.

Gary led the nation in homicides every year I was there, and I started out as a crime reporter.

So you have to learn different ways to say, "The unidentified body of a male was found."

You know, you had to find different ways to express it, so you didn't write the same story over and over again.

And I realized I'd been there on that position too long when writing about dead bodies didn't bother me anymore, because you want something like that to bother you.

And you know, when you get to the point where it doesn't affect you, then it's time to move on.

- And how did you happen to move on?

- Well, they offered me a position as a columnist.

I happened to be working the night the Persian Gulf War ended, as a crime reporter again, and the editor wanted an editorial about the end of the war, and nobody was there to write it.

And she asked me if I would write it.

I wrote one, and she liked it.

And she asked me, how would I'd like to be a columnist?

- So how long did that job- - I stayed there as a, I was a reporter for four years and a columnist for two.

And then "The News & Observer" came calling.

- Well, how did that happen?

You're there, you're a long way from being in North Carolina.

You're in Gary, Indiana.

I think there's a song about Gary, Indiana.

- Yeah, there is, "The Music Man."

- Yeah [laughs].

- That's where it comes from.

Well, somehow "The News & Observer" heard about me and knew I was from up there, and somebody called the editor at the time, Anders Gyllenhaal, called me and said, "Are you interested in coming back to North Carolina?"

And I said, "Am I?"

So, yeah, so it was just- - Well, how did that, tell us more about that conversation.

He just called you out of the blue and you said yes, or- - Well, according to what I understand, "The News & Observer" and the "Herald-Sun" had made a gentleman's agreement over the years, they were owned by different companies at the time, that Raleigh would stay out of Durham, and the Durham paper would stay out of Raleigh, to a great extent.

This was a gentleman's agreement, nothing in writing.

And apparently the "Herald-Sun" breached that and moved, they encroached upon Raleigh, and Raleigh wanted to find a way to appeal to Durham, and they thought that I would do that.

And so when I went for my interview here, they said, "Now, if you take the job, you're gonna have to live in Durham."

So of course my first thought was, "What the hell is wrong with Durham if I have to live there?"

[DG laughs] And of course they primarily wanted me to focus on Durham.

I love Durham.

I mean, I love the entire Triangle.

- So have you, you haven't, have you left Durham ever?

- I've not left Durham as a resident since I moved there.

- [DG] Wow.

- Yeah.

- Well talk about your starting point.

Now, back in, this would have been in the- - '93, is when I got here.

- 1993 and we're a, North Carolina's still struggling with race and all of this, and you know, to be the featured columnist in "The News & Observer," you're breaking some ground.

- Mm-hm.

- Did you feel any burden of responsibility [laughs], as the, you know, for being the primary columnist for "The News & Observer" and being an African American?

- Oh, I definitely felt a responsibility to do a good job.

And I think the thing that, the reason people liked me so much is that I didn't mind whose ox was being gored.

In fact, one of the best letters I ever received was from a woman who said her husband had told her he had quit reading the newspaper, because he was convinced that I'm a racist who hates all White people.

And she said that she had been reading my column for about 10 years, and she told her husband, "He's not a racist who hates all White people."

She said, "I've been reading him for 10 years, and I think he hates everybody."

[DG laughs] That's one of the best things anybody's ever said about me.

And it kinda got me right here.

- Well, you know, talk about that responsibility of, trying to nudge people, more than nudge people, that you want to poke at 'em a little bit.

And how does the columnist deal with that without going overboard?

- Well, I think the main thing a columnist has to do is you can't, you're not gonna change people's minds, I don't think.

You wanna give them a different way to look at a topic, and you want to entertain them, because if they're not entertained, they're not gonna read the column in the first place.

So it reminds me of the Pulitzer paper, "The New York World" in New York, way back.

You know, he would have all this really serious, important international affairs news inside, but outside, he might have a scantily clad hoochie coochie dancer on the cover, because you want to attract people.

Now I never put hoochie coochie dancers on the cover of my column, but you know, you want to get something to attract them, to get people to pay attention.

- Were you used, forgive me for this, but could you be sort of the hoochie coochie?

You were the person who excited people.

It wasn't news.

It was, "Don't read the front page.

Turn to Barry Saunders' column, and you can get something that'll, you know, upset ya," yeah.

- Upset you or entertain you, yeah.

And one thing I'm glad to say.

A lot of the people who read my column still, they said they'd never agree with anything that I write, but they like reading it.

And they like to see somebody who expresses a pure opinion.

- Is this just a gift that you've got, or is there any way you could train to be able to write in the Barry Saunders manner of poking at people, entertaining 'em and, but still having a point that goes beyond that?

- Well, I think the greatest asset I have, I've read a lot.

I like to read, and I was reading columns as a kid.

Chuck Stone, a former professor at the University of North Carolina, started out as a columnist in Philadelphia.

And when I was 13 or 14 years old, my aunt in Philadelphia, apropos of nothing, started sending me copies of his column.

She would clip them out of the newspaper, save 'em up, and then mail them to me.

And I started reading Chuck Stone's columns, and I thought, "Wow, you can make a living talking trash?"

And that's kinda what got me into it.

And then when I was at "The Atlanta Constitution," I saw the impact that someone like Lewis Grizzard had on the public.

He was a columnist at the time.

And I'm thinking, "Man, if I could have that kind of influence, that would be great."

- Well, I think all of us would think that, but I mean, what you've been able to do is translate that feeling into being right there at the level with Lewis Grizzard, with Chuck Stone.

- Well, thank you.

- But how do you approach your.. How do you write a column?

- Well, this is the thing about a column.

I think a column is like a good song.

If it takes too long to write it, it's not a good column.

I've heard Smokey Robinson and some of my favorite songwriters say that their best songs, they can write in 20 or 30 minutes, and then they go back and make adjustments to it.

And I found the same thing, that if I'm laboring over a column, and sweating blood over it and agonizing over it, it's probably not gonna be a good column.

- Well, what do you do with those columns?

You just toss them?

- Toss 'em in the trash, or either file 'em away in your brain.

And at some point, you may come up with something to say that would be compelling enough for people to read.

Because if it's not compelling to you, it's certainly not gonna be compelling enough for somebody else to spend three to five minutes reading it.

- Did you ever write a column that got such a terrible reaction, an angry reaction, that your bosses at "The News & Observer" called you in to say, "Watch out Barry.

You do what you want to, but this might be dangerous."

- Well, I've made mistakes in columns that really got them upset with me.

- What would you mean?

- Well, once there was a big hurricane and flood in North Carolina, and this was the same, I forget which flood it was.

So I don't want to diminish its importance by misnaming it, but on the same weekend of this terrible natural disaster, Michael Jordan chose that weekend to open his restaurant in Chapel Hill.

And so I write this scathing, harsh column about how insensitive it is for him to open a restaurant right here when all of these people are suffering, and he's never done anything to help anybody.

And it was a really terrific column, except that it wasn't accurate.

- Oh, what was wrong with it?

- Because Jordan had actually sent a truckload of Gatorade and BVDs down east to the people who were suffering.

So I had to write an apology, and you know how hard it is to apologize to one person.

So imagine having to apologize to a couple hundred thousand people, that you had just stepped in it.

- Well, that wasn't the only time you kinda jumped on Michael Jordan, was it?

- Mm-mm, I used to enjoy it.

I used to jump on him pretty frequently, but there was one other column that, in the 24 years, I've been at "The N & O" now for 27 years in all.

But the first, in my first iteration, I was there for 24 years.

And to the editor's credit, there was only one column that they stopped me from running.

And they didn't really stop me from running it.

I stopped myself.

It was about the former mayor, Tom Fetzer.

And I had been giving him hell for a few days, in like two or three columns in a row.

And on the third day, Mike Yopp, who was one of the editors at the time, came to me and said, "Don't you think you've been picking on this guy a bit too much lately?"

And I said, "No!"

And of course, once I thought about it, I agreed, but you can't let an editor know that he's right, [DG laughs] because they'll get carried away.

So I said, "No," and Mike says, "Well, if you just change a few things here."

"I'm not changing anything!"

So I did not write a column that day.

And in 24 years, that was the only column that was killed.

- Only killed column, well- - And actually, let me say this about Mayor Tom Fetzer, though.

He and I, we were political opposites, but the thing I really appreciated about Tom, he knew, he was a politician, I was a columnist, and we were supposed to have had an adversarial relationship.

And he never took personally anything that I wrote about him.

We would see each other out and about in Raleigh or Durham, and speak and be cordial.

- Would people say, "Hey, Barry, what are you doing being nice to Fetzer, I really think you- - Of course they did.

And I'm sure they said the same thing to him.

"Why are you talking to this clown?

Did you see what he wrote about you?"

But he never took it personally, and I've always admired that about him.

- Any other folks like that, that you've found occasion to criticize regularly, like Michael Jordan or Tom Fetzer?

- There were a lot of people I criticized, but, I don't want to go into it 'cause, [DG laughs] you know that saying, "Let sleeping dogs lie."

- Well, let me ask you this.

We're getting close to the end, and I have so many things that I'd like for you to talk about, but have things changed in the 25, 30 years that you've been writing columns for this, is it easier, harder?

Are you as excited about writing columns today as you were- - I am as excited now as I was when I started writing for my college newspaper, and when I started at the "Daily Journal," the Gary "Post-Tribune," the Raleigh "News & Observer," or "The News & Observer" in Raleigh.

I'm just as excited about all of it.

The only thing is now, everybody who has a computer thinks they're a columnist.

So you have to find a way to distinguish yourself, and the way to do that is by being accurate, and I guess having a newspaper behind you helps, but everybody thinks they're columnists now.

Everybody has an an opinion.

- Well, is that good, or not?

I mean, isn't it good to have people writing, even though only two or three people read it?

- Yeah, well you have to be able to separate the wheat from the chaff.

And I think that a lot of people, people think if it's in print, it must be true, you know?

And that's the problem that we have, yeah.

- Well, in the short time we got, how do you feel about this country and its direction?

Are we, have we been good stewards of our country, and we got a good one that we're leaving to our children and grandchildren?

- Well, I do not know how long, I don't know if we have 240-some more years left.

Let's put it like that.

Yeah, I think America's had a great run for the first Bicentennial and how many other years it's been since we celebrated our Bicentennial.

But of course neither you nor I will be here if it does reach another Bicentennial, but you know, 'cause as democracies go, we're not that old, but I don't know if we've even got another 200 years left in us.

And I was surprised to see how fragile a democracy could be.

- What do you mean?

- Well, you see what happened during the last presidential election, with no evidence of chicanery, or widespread chicanery, or voter fraud, we let one man tell us, say, "There's voter fraud."

And so lots of people with no evidence jumped on that.

And I think it has weakened the American structure.

- Well, let's get together and talk about it some more.

I wish we had time to talk about it right now.

And, but before we close, let me thank you, not just for talking to us today, but for your almost 30 years of making us think a little bit differently every week, - Well, thank you.

- and I look forward, maybe we won't make it to another Centennial or Bicentennial celebration, but I look forward to being with you for many more years.

- Thank you so much.

- Thanks a lot.

Thanks to Barry Saunders for being our guest on "North Carolina Bookwatch."

Thanks to the wonderful Flyleaf Books for hosting us, and thanks to you for watching.

Tune in, and remember that on the website, there are more than 300 "North Carolina Bookwatch" programs for you to watch, and I'll look forward to seeing you, same time next week.

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