Good Sunday morning! Always give in to an urge to extend a generosity or a simple kindness. It may be God’s call upon you to change a life. With all due respect and deep appreciation for the loved ones who have enriched my life, I’m also grateful for those who have had an impact fully out of proportion to their brief encounter in the big picture of my life. Such a serendipitous moment was the morning I shared a cup of coffee with Sara Fritz. I only wish I could share another with her today. Backing up, in March of 2008 I was awakened in the night by what I believed was a call to write a book about wrongful criminal conviction—convicting the innocent. I knew nothing about writing a book and knew no one in the publishing business, but, believing that God was on my side, I plunged right in. Within weeks, my so-called book had become the research paper from hell. On the bright side, I was getting some answers to the many questions prompted by my husband Jim Petro’s encounter, when he was Attorney General of Ohio, with the wrongful conviction and life sentence of Clarence Elkins. But no one would want to read the stack of paper we euphemistically called “our book.” A friend suggested that I have a cup of coffee with Sara Fritz. I met Sara when I was elected as an alumni representative to the Denison University Board of Trustees. Sara, who graduated from Denison a couple years before I, had been on Denison’s board for 15 years, as indication of her accomplishment at an early age. I knew, from an earlier scan of the board members’ short biographies, that her field was journalism. Asking a favor of someone I barely knew was not easy. Sara’s daughter was attending Denison at the time, and I knew she would surely prefer to be having coffee with her daughter. Nonetheless, Sara graciously agreed to meet me in the student union. Our time was brief before the board meeting and so I was all business. I explained the book, and Sara immediately said, “You’re not just writing it, are you?” I didn’t fully understand the question. “Yes, I’m writing it,” I said. She explained that with non-fiction books, you first write a proposal to submit to agents, gatekeepers to publishers. Sara did not discourage me with the fact that agents are about as accessible to late-blooming, would-be authors as a President’s Chief of Staff. There are way too few of them to evaluate the vast number of authors vying to make a pitch. It’s very difficult to get an agent and, without one, a publisher. A proposal for a book, she explained, was like a business plan. Since I had written business plans in my career, I could begin this with greater confidence than the book itself. Back home a few days later, I received a book in the mail from Sara. “Thinking like your Editor,” was by a husband and wife team of book agents. It was a step-by-step guide to writing a book proposal. I spent the next six weeks following it to the letter. When the proposal was complete—including the sample first 40 pages of the book—I decided to email it to the female co-author of the book. I explained in the email that I had followed her book and asked if she would be our agent. She was kind enough to respond that the proposal was well done, but she didn’t think she could find a publisher for this book. However, she added that the executive editor at Kaplan Publishing in New York, might have some interest. She suggested that I email the proposal to him and mention her name. Long story short—for it required that we reposition the book as a narrative biography in Jim’s voice—Kaplan offered to purchase and publish the book. No agent necessary necessary, no shopping publishers. The book was published in January 2011. Soon after our coffee, Sara resigned after 15 years on the Denison Board and she was made a Life Trustee, a rare honor. I sent her a copy of the book when it was published. The next time our paths crossed was in 2012 when our book, “False Justice” was one of two that received the 2011 Constitutional Commentary Award by the Constitution Project. The award was to be presented at Georgetown Law, and because Sara lived and worked in Washington, D.C., I invited her to come to the event. I was once again humbled to see Sara in the audience as Jim and I, and Brandon Garrett (a law professor at the University of Virginia, whose book on wrongful conviction was also honored that day) participated in a panel discussion. I nodded a greeting to Sara but had only a brief minute to thank her for coming before she had to leave. Without our coffee at Denise Largent Robertson, I seriously doubt that “False Justice” would have been written or published. I most likely would not have continued to write. Jim and I would not have pursued the active advocacy that has introduced us to amazing people, taken us to many parts of the United States and Beijing, China, and given us a reason to spring from bed with new purpose every day. If Sara had begged off on my coffee request, my life, post-2008, would have been entirely different. Sara was unassuming. She would sometimes knit during Denison board committee meetings, and I admired that small indication that she was comfortable with who she was. While she didn’t take herself too seriously, she was fully focused on the work of the college. She did not always take the majority view. I remember telling her after one of these discussions that I admired her courage. Sara taught me that you should always be alert to the greatness of the person standing next to you, to anyone and everyone you may briefly encounter in life. It’s not everyday that you may engage in conversation with someone who will earn a lengthy obituary in The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times and the Pittsburgh Gazette, among others. Unfortunately, it was after her untimely death last month, at age 68—from a lung infection following hip surgery—that I learned from many tributes more about Sara “a pioneering female journalist” who covered Capital Hill for more than three decades, interviewed every U.S. living President, and served as president of the White House Correspondents’ Association. Sara broke into the male-dominated world of newspaper journalism in part because of the Vietnam War, which took some journalists away from the paper and left a void in the copy room of the Pittsburgh Press. It was all up from there. During a long stint with United Press international where she became weekend news editor for the Washington bureau, she covered Watergate and the resignation of President Nixon. Later, as chief White House correspondent with U.S. News and World Report, she covered the attempted assassination of President Reagan While on the Washington staff for the L.A. Times, Sara won the Everett McKinley Dirkson Award for best reporting on Congress, and later, as reported in the L.A. Times, she was on the reporting team that won the Goldsmith Prize for investigative Reporting. Colleagues commented on Sara’s “integrity,” “deep sense of perspective,” and “judgment,” and referenced her as one of the “unsung heroes” of American journalism. A colleague said that she “loved her family and friends as much as her career,” and I smiled when I read in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette that “she raised eyebrows when she knit while covering the Iran-contra hearings.” The Washington Post referenced the American Journalism Review’s comparison of Sara to “Lt. Columbo, the rumpled but wily homicide detective.” Indeed, her amazing achievements and accolades did not prompt aloofness or self-absorption in Sara Fritz. By the time I had coffee with Sara, she had retired from journalism after the haunting loss of her 12-year-old son Daniel, who committed suicide following misdiagnosed depression. Sara wrote movingly in the St. Petersburg Times, about this devastating loss and the inability of parents, despite all of our best efforts, to fully protect our children. In spite of accolades and achievements that distinguished her, Sara remained a willing advisor and a mentor I suspect to many. I have no doubt that she inspired countless women in particular to step up with courage to meaningful challenges. Sara was as accessible to me, a mere acquaintance, as an old family friend. Her generous kindness changed my life. Thank you, Sara Fritz, and Godspeed on your next assignment. Have a great week.
Posted on: Sun, 17 Nov 2013 14:00:17 +0000