Remembering
Karen Sara Erdman,
Senior Editor
at the Cornell Daily Sun
in 1985-86
- compiled by Diana Skelton
Karen in 1999
I'm very sad to report that Karen Erdman '86 died October 13,
2004, from injuries in a car accident the previous day, in Wilmington, N.C.,
where she was a high school English teacher. Karen was a great reporter,
columnist, and copy editor at The Sun. She challenged her colleagues there, not
only on their precision of language, but on their coverage of all groups on
campus, pushing us to do a better job of covering minority students, women's
issues, and gay and lesbian issues. Karen taught those around her a great deal — both from the passion of her convictions and from the warmth of her
friendship.
— Scott Jaschik '85, Editor-in-Chief, www.cornellsun.org
Obituary: October 17, 2004
Karen Sara Erdman
www.starnewsonline.com
Karen Sara Erdman, 39, died
Thursday, October 14, 2004, at New Hanover Regional Medical Center in
Wilmington. She was born on December 20, 1964, in Hanover, New Hampshire,
to Howard Erdman and Joan Landy Erdman.
She was a graduate of
Cornell University and a beloved teacher at Ashley High School. She was a
founder of literary clubs and rainbow clubs. She had a wide circle of friends
and was adored as aunt Kar-Kar by Benji and Natey. She always had a song in her
heart.
Survivors in addition to
her parents include her spouse, Beij Beltrisi; her sister, Deborah Cornavaca;
and brother-in-law, Ervin of East Brunswick, New Jersey; and two nephews,
Benjamin and Nathan. Memorial services will be held on Monday, October 18,
2004, at 2:00 P.M. at Ft. Fisher, NC.
January 2005
Karen’s husband Beij Beltrisi died three months after
she did. He had been very badly injured in the accident that killed Karen.
Her sister Deborah writes, “His
spirit now flies with Karen’s.”
Excerpts from personal letters by Karen Erdman ’86,
during her time at The Sun.*
July 2, 1984
(preparing for her junior year)
I have a ton of freshman issue stuff to write.
Aside from the minority affairs “round-up” as it were, I discovered (upon
asking) that there is no story being written on women’s issues at
Cornell – hiring, affirmative action, Take Back the Night, etc. So I guess I’m
doing it by default. Then I was asked to write a column. As I commented to Jon
Rosenbloom, it was either desperation or an olive branch. Probably desperation!
So I get to share the op-ed pages with the illustrious figures. I haven’t
decided what to write about yet. Maybe (1) how/why to be a social activist in
college, (2) how you can learn more and change by being open-minded in college,
or (3) how Cornell is not just a fun place to go to college, but is also a big
research institute, a corporate bureaucracy, a researcher for the defense
department, etc., ie) a “Don’t be oblivious” column! Well, actually, any of
them would be a “don’t be oblivious” column. It’s going to be so much work!
Aaaargh!
July 9, 1985
(after being appointed Senior Editor)
The main reason that I’m writing is that I actually have,
as your letter said, been (brace yourself) “relaxing and getting new story
ideas for next semester.” All right, so I’ve been doing the former a little
more than the latter, but I do have lots of ideas for stories, general
directions and plans. I will start soon to work on the compet program, and the
copy-editing training program. In addition, there are several things I really
want to do:
-
The woman doing the city beat really needs better
stories to do. What about a feature on an Ithaca group called the Indigenous
People’s Network? It’s the first Native People’s news service, publicizing
issues nationwide, networking by computer, and becoming actively involved, for
instance, helping a group of Native Central Americans gain asylum here by
proving they were persecuted in their home country.
-
In New York this summer, they arrested a black Cornell
sophomore engineering student for an alleged robbery attempt during which the
student’s brother was shot and killed by the police. The poor kid. But it would
do Cornell a lot of good to hear his story, let people hear about something a
little more serious than grades and bars. I’d like to ask him why he thinks the
police are doing what they’re doing.
-
Physics professors at the University of Illinois,
another supercomputer school, won’t accept any Star Wars funding. They’ve
circulated their letter to Cornell. We should talk to physics professors. Star
Wars is potentially an enormous moneymaker for Cornell, and it’s one of the
biggest tests around of our faculty’s ethics.
-
Bruce Darcis, the draft-card burner whose photo is
blown up on the wall of The Sun, is now managing editor of Mother Jones. I’ll
try to do a profile of him – a 60s radical who didn’t become a yuppie.
I really want to use my little niche at The Sun to
start an investigative reporting group, to make investigations a semi-formal
thing. We would meet once a week with two kinds of people: those who want to be
full-time investigative reporters, and those with regular beats who have
investigations going (financial aid, administration, etc.). This would allow
all investigations to be treated seriously. Long-term investigative stories
can’t get enough attention in the same structure as quick, one-shot news
stories. I think the group format will work well because investigations really
need feedback and encouragement and direction more than newsy stories. More
people will be able to contribute ideas to each story. So what do I want to
investigate? A few ideas: (1) military research at CU. We could probably do a
story every two weeks on this alone. We must be doing so much of it, and some
of it shockingly immoral, (2) administrator’s corporate conflicts of interest –
doesn’t being on corporate boards affect their views and decision-making? (3)
drug trade at Cornell – lots of rich (and maybe not so rich) kids at Cornell
use expensive drugs. Some CU students sell them. How much of an impact does
this underground economy have at Cornell? (4) unions. We know Cornell
successfully prevented several unions from taking root. Did they use any
unethical tactics besides the usual slimy propaganda? […]
Then, in addition, I have one more pet project, just
for myself. I’d like to do a long, in-depth series on women at Cornell, maybe
for the end of the UN’s decade on women. Ideas would include: women clerical employees;
women TAs, especially lecturers; lesbians and bi-sexual women; feminism
(supporter and detractors) on campus; sororities, etc. I’ll make the topics a
bit more specific so they’re not too boring. And the last installment would be
a survey of women – professors, students, TAs, everyone female, on their views
of Cornell as they pertain to women’s issues.
Memories
from Karen’s Sun colleagues
I've been
thinking a lot about what to write about Karen, trying to remember specific
anecdotes to relate, something to epitomize her remarkable talents and
personality. All I can come up with is laughter. Many people who
care as deeply as Karen did about social equality, feminism, representation of
minority groups, and good grammar, lose their sense of humor in the
process. Karen never did. She could laugh at herself and her causes
without ever belittling them. Any particular episode I remember seems
ridiculous, but I can never think of Karen without smiling. Now I smile
behind the tears, knowing that I won't laugh with her again.
—Marjorie
(Gigi) Strom ’86, Assistant Managing Editor
Karen Erdman
taught me, back when I was young and had much to learn about the world, that
there are people who care. Karen cared so much about so many things. She had
causes that she cared about. As a journalist, she cared about getting things
right. As I've traveled and delved more deeply into this world of ours, I've
learned that she was not alone. There are people in every country I visit who
are like Karen. They have firm principles and do not back down, no matter what.
Like Karen, they are the ones who make a difference, and who are remembered
long after they are gone.
— Marc S. Lacey
’87, Editor-in-Chief
Karen was the
consummate Sun person of her time. She was devoted to
the place and always seemed to be in the newsroom. I remember her as
a talented writer and a generous editor, with a sharp wit and a strong
commitment to progressive political change. She had a great soul, and she kept
us all honest.
— Patrick J.
LaForge ’84, Associate Editor
Of course, the news about
Karen hit me very hard, in part because our generation at The Sun was blessed
with little drama of the life-and-death sort during our years there, sandwiched
as we were between the Vietnam rebellions and the '70s and the Generation Xers
that would follow. (Indeed, even to us liberals, by today's
standards, the Reagan revolution and Iran-Contra now seem about as calamitous
as a bad Bon Jovi concert.) As will be recalled by looking at old papers,
Karen and I were both Senior Editors our last year at Cornell, and
although we were not close friends, as colleagues we shared many, many
nights at The Sun, in the composing room, (on the way to and at) the AM/PM
mini-mart across the street, on the Ithaca Commons and in all the other places
we used to gleefully waste time and generally soak up the feeling of being so
intensely alive as the rest of the campus slept.
I had not seen Karen
in at least 10 years when I heard the horrible news of her passing. At
Cornell, I had so much respect for Karen's intellect, and her tolerance and
insightfulness, as well as her ferocity on issues that she cared about.
She also seemed remarkably comfortable with herself, a trait I always envied
and yearned to copy. I remember her easy and warm
smile, her dancing eyes, her optimism and her kind and gentle
nature. What I will remember most, however, is the sheer joy she
took in a story well-written, a well-crafted and perfectly fitted headline, a
good political joust or just the wonder of standing, sitting, chatting,
debating and working well into the night, just to live life in the moment,
fully and without a care for tomorrow. I have no doubt she also
lived her intervening years to the fullest, leaving this world, and the
ones she touched, so much better for it. Today, by reminding me of
that long ago time at Cornell, she has left me with another gift.
— C. John Melissinos ’86, Senior Editor
Karen Sara Erdman &
Beij Tony Beltrisi
at their wedding, October 2003.
After graduating,
Karen and I stayed about as close as we could, given that we usually lived
thousands of miles away from each other. She was the Best Woman at my wedding
(no sexist Maid-of-Honor terminology for her!), she was in the delivery room
when I was in labor with my first daughter, and my whole family was at her
joyous wedding in a North Carolina beach-house in 2003.
Thinking back
to the years we spent on The Sun, I remember her fierceness while copy-editing,
as she taught so many of us to write better – something she continued in her
work as a teacher. She opened my mind to so many varied issues, from the rights
of transsexual, gay, lesbian and bisexual peoples, to the importance of organic
farming, and alternative person-centered health care. She cared about serious
issues, but she also found ways to bring joyous song and deliciously
multi-ethnic food into the lives of her friends.
To celebrate
our graduation, we decided to play a practical joke on Marc Lacey, the incoming
Sun editor-in-chief, and his ace reporters Eric Lichtblau and Jeremy Kaplan.
They had just equipped The Sun with a police scanner for the first time, which
Karen considered a “testosterone booster” that could distract The Sun from
in-depth investigative stories. So we hid the scanner and left a series of
clues woven into a fictional murder mystery so that Marc, Eric and Jeremy would
have to work to track it down! (Today, both Marc and Eric write for The New
York Times, while Karen and I both spent our lives in assorted low-profile,
non-profit work, so maybe they’ve had the last laugh!)
Rereading some
of Karen’s oldest letters to me, I’m struck by how often she wished that she
were more courageous. At the time, I thought she was already one of the most
courageous people I had met. And in the following years, she did find new
reserves of courage, both for her personal life, to explore new relationships
and shape them in creative ways, and for the challenges she faced in her work.
Over the years, she went from researching Medicaid and mental health care
across the country, to teaching teenagers who were sometimes from more
privileged backgrounds than she herself was. That gulf challenged her, but she
surprised herself by building strong personal dialogs with them.
Her courage and
her warmth are what I remember most strongly.
— Diana Skelton
’86, Managing Editor
1997:
Karen reading to my two older daughters, Joline and Delora.
It
was spring 1984 when I first met Karen. At first all I knew was that
she was the highly energetic woman with long black hair and a laugh you'd
immediately recognize. A laugh that carried across that cavernous 3rd
floor space The Cornell Daily Sun occupied just off the Ithaca Commons.
She was one of the core die-hard Sun people who lived and breathed newspapering
and causes and college life. She was encyclopedic in her knowledge of
language and was ready to pounce on a topic and debate it if you gave her the
opening. A confident young woman who knew her own mind and had no trouble
speaking it.
Then I had the experience of Karen
copy editing one of my stories. When she was done making her
notations in BIG CAPITAL LETTERS and putting arrows to indicate paragraphs to
move up or down, I could barely see my original text on the computer
monitor. I felt like she'd ripped up my copy for sport and had trouble
even sitting down to go over the piece with her. She succinctly
explained her reasons for her comments and, while I still didn't like it one
bit, I at least understood her goal was to improve the piece, not to shred
me.
OK, Karen, points taken. A few
weeks later I had another article for her to copy edit. I'd made an
effort to remember the points she'd made and was a bit smug when she was
reviewing the article, confident she'd have little to add. When I sat down
next to her to review it, the article was just as ripped up with TONS OF
CAPITAL LETTERS and arrows. Crestfallen doesn't even begin to describe
how I felt. She was methodical in reviewing the article and had good
points again.
I think she edited about a dozen of
my stories and not a single one had a paragraph that survived unscathed.
And every comment was justified. To her credit, when I'd argue whether a
paragraph should be moved up or not, she'd listen and sometimes revise her
opinion. But it got to the point where I wanted my articles to pass by her
sharp eye and mind because they were always so much better after she'd hacked
them to pieces.
Mind you, for about 3 months, I
swore the woman hated me and just enjoyed ripping my journalistic masterpieces
apart, but I eventually realized there was no malice in what she did. She
KNEW the rules cold and was simply applying them. She did it with speed
and a fast eye and with one ear cocked to newsroom conversation. She did
it to make the paper the best it could be. And she did it at 2 in the
morning, under pressure of deadline, a lot of those nights.
I'll admit my recollection is
hazy on this point, but I could swear that there was one chink in her Energizer
Editor Bunny armor -- an article was being rushed to make deadline, she'd copy
edited it and when it ran the next day there was a quote from a prominent
Cornell administrator and her editorial comments to the writer about its
necessity had inadvertently stayed in, leaving the quote by the gentleman
followed by her SO WHAT???? right after it. Oops. But, I might
be confusing my facts. It's been more than 20 years at this point.
If it wasn't her that did that, then her record was perfect. That's far
more likely!
I'm glad I crossed paths with Karen
to learn about how writing should be. And I'm deeply envious of those
students she had, who were able to learn from her every day, at an age where
her lessons could take hold and have time to mature.
When I hear Karen's name, I'll always picture
her throwing her long hair back over one shoulder, tilting her head and then
coming up with the most devastating counter arguments to whatever debate was
going on in the newsroom. All matter of factly rattled off. And
then her laugh....
— Dina Vitkauskas Weissman '87, Associate
Managing Editor
My first impression of
Karen was that she was someone I should not argue with, unless I wanted to be
proved wrong. She was passionate and intelligent, in a way that seemed both
fierce and, to a nervous brand-new student, almost scary. It must have been in
late 1983 when we met at The Sun. Karen seemed established and sure of what she
was doing, and I was happy, if a little intimidated, to have her help. She made
my writing better. Her copy editing sessions were both funny and informative,
and I swear I still use gender-neutral language ("It's a fire
fighter," I tell my son) because of her. She made me see things from
vantage points I'd never considered. Her compassion for those sometimes on the
margins was always clear and often thought-provoking. She was not scary.
When I heard
about her death, one memory kept coming back to me, one scene from
the many nights together at the paper. But this one took place away from the
Sun. I do not know when it was, but I think it must have been spring time
because it was night, and we were sitting outside, and I doubt we would have
lingered so long during an Ithaca winter. We were sitting on the front porch of
the house where she lived. Karen and I, boyfriends, maybe one or two others. I
don't know what we spoke about. I just remember sitting there, listening mostly
to Karen, interested in her take on something. In my memory, the stars are out
as we linger on the porch, just sitting and listening. It was a
lovely night.
— Leslie Postal ’87, Managing
Editor
Karen was usually in Sun's newsroom by late
afternoon. The deadline rush was a few hours away and we'd take a few
minutes to catch up on things before getting an early start on the night's
paper. The Sun was a pressure cooker. Visions of Woodward &
Bernstein or seeing ourselves as Cornell's newspaper of record made for
determination and ambition, but also self-importance. With a few words
Karen would often gently & humorously deflate those pretensions. I'd
love to hear her laugh away the puffery again.
— Robert
Geoghegan ’84, Photography Editor
Karen
Erdman taught me to be an editor. I could have read Strunk and White on my own,
and I could have probably figured out the Sun’s quirky editing system without
her assistance. Karen’s curriculum, however, covered much more than the
mechanics of editing, and what she taught me says as much about her as a person
as it does about her as an editor.
Lesson 1: Care about everything. The Erdman method dictated
that—whether it was 8 p.m. or 2 a.m.—we find the middle initial of that
professor quoted in the fourteenth paragraph. Nothing escaped Karen’s notice,
and she was as conscientious about the feelings of others as she was about
their writing. Her attention could make an intimidated novice feel as clued-in
as a savvy senior editor.
Lesson 2: Stay engaged.
Karen laughed loudly, argued passionately, and really listened to what other
people said. And she assumed that you were smart enough to return the favor.
Swinging her legs back and forth as she sat, enthroned, on the table next to
the copy editor’s station, she lavished the compets in her care with praise and
advice. Amazingly, she got more energetic as the night went on . . . and on.
Lesson 3: Think deeply. Ideas tumbled out of Karen’s mouth, and
her quick mind could jump from thought to thought. But just as often, she’d sit
motionless at the computer, her tapered fingers caressing the keys while she
considered the options for the story in front of her. She didn’t need to be a
show-off, and her intelligence didn’t rely on impressing others. She knew who
she was.
I’m now a professional writer and editor. Sometimes as
I work I find my fingers beating out the same keyboard tattoo that I first
observed while sitting at Karen’s side twenty years ago. Every day I make use
of her editorial know-how. I hope I’ve also absorbed something of her
generosity of spirit, her energy, and her love of ideas, qualities that go far
beyond mere words.
— Samantha Shubert ’87, Associate
Editor
I'm
having a very hard time accepting the fact that Karen is gone because my images
of Karen are of a dynamo, of someone always in motion, always full of energy
and ideas, always ready to talk into the night about philosophy or politics or
whatever the issue of the day was. I can think back on so many intense
conversations with Karen that in one way or another shook me up and made me
rethink assumptions I had about any number of issues. Karen didn't always bring
me around to her way of thinking – my world view is a little too conventional
for hers. But whether my views changed or not, I had to search deep in myself
and to question every assumption to even attempt to keep up with her. It stuns
me that I can remember exact topics of conversations we had 20 years ago, and I
attribute my memory to my realization that Karen's arguments were truly
special.
With Karen,
discussion was never enough, of course. Many of my discussions with her
revolved around The Sun. Karen thought that beliefs that weren't backed up
weren't worth much, and I can remember
a constant stream of ideas from her on how we could do a better job with
writing, with mentoring younger reporters, with reaching out to minority
students, with covering women's and gay issues, etc. etc. For Karen, it wasn't
a matter of getting the Page 1 story for herself, but of all of us doing a
better job because everything mattered, and people mattered, and ideas mattered.
I didn't always
succeed in meeting Karen's high standards, and she didn't always have a great
tolerance for compromise. But
sometimes, as I remember feeling that nothing I could do would satisfy her,
she'd get all silly with me, call me Scotty, use a hole punch to punch paper
holes over my head, or in some sleep-deprivation-induced way let me know that
we were still friends, no matter what. Karen wouldn't compromise her
principles, but one of those principles was being a wonderful friend.
I am sure she
was a wonderful teacher, and the idea that she would have inspired so many
students – all over the country – comforts me.
I've been in touch with several of Karen’s Sun
friends. We have had a few informal talks about making donations to The Sun in
Karen's memory. The Sun is in the process of building a journalism library, and
we thought we might contribute some books that reflected Karen's passions:
books about journalists who challenged authority, books about coverage of
women, gays and lesbians, minorities, or low-income people, books about great
writing. Our hope is that we might inspire in some of those at The Sun today in
the future some of Karen's fervor, guts, and compassion.
— Scott
Jaschik, Editor-in-Chief, ‘85
