This first entry in an occasional series from Roy Peter Clark, who witnessed the Poynter Institute’s founding, explores its history in honor of its 50th anniversary.
Every superhero has a good origin story, and every ambitious American story has humble origins. So it is with the Poynter Institute.
The first time I saw Nelson Poynter, I asked someone: “Who is that little guy with the bow tie?” It was as if I asked about President Lincoln: “Hey, who is that tall guy with the funny hat?”
Nelson Poynter and Eugene Patterson in the St. Petersburg Times newsroom on March 7, 1974. (Poynter archives)
In 1975, Mr. Poynter took steps to create a nonprofit school to inherit the stock of the St. Petersburg Times Publishing Company. He wanted independent local control of his company, not attachment to a chain. He wanted journalists to be in charge.
Tax lawyers schooled Mr. Poynter that not every kind of nonprofit could inherit a for-profit news organization. But a hospital could, a church could, and, yes, a school could.
That insight launched what he named the Modern Media Institute, or MMI.
As a young English professor at an Alabama college, I was hired in 1977 to work for one year as a writing coach for the Times. If that gig worked out, I could return to college teaching with some new writing tools I had learned from professional writers.
Things changed on a June morning in 1978 when Mr. Poynter collapsed after breaking ground at a university library that would bear his name. His sudden death was shocking. And it made urgent the problems of inheritance, ownership and leadership at the Times.
One more thing: Mr. Poynter and his team had worked out the legal issues with the IRS, but he had left behind no serious directions on what his new institute would do.
Editor Gene Patterson, who had hired me as a writing coach, called me into his office. Since I had the best academic credentials in the building, would I be willing to walk around the corner to 556 Central Ave. to become the first full-time faculty member at the Institute?
Times publisher Jack Lake helped me overcome my reluctance by saying: “This place is going to be big someday.” But not yet.
I joined a staff of five: Don Baldwin, veteran wire service reporter and previous editor at the Times; Don’s assistant Marge Bratcher; Billie Kierstead, who ran a program for high school students; and the first of a series of receptionists. I remember we worked from a total budget of about $200,000.
A St. Petersburg Times announcement about the founding of MMI. (Poynter archives)
We leased an old bank building, originally occupied by a small team of female bankers. The art-deco style was interesting, but the inside was a mess. There were termites in the walls, pigeons in the ceilings, and green shag carpeting that felt like a breeding ground for who-knows-what. In the back was an impressive bank vault, which we would use to store boxes of T-shirts and hold the occasional one-on-one conversation.
We shared a wall with the Emerald Bar, which opened early in the morning, and, more than once, we would physically remove drunks sleeping in our doorway. This was not a good time in the history of St. Petersburg. Important institutions, such as Webb’s City, the famous drugstore, closed. The population downtown was very old and very poor, leading to jokes about St. Pete being the world’s largest open-air mausoleum.
Attempted reforms in the care of the mentally ill across the country resulted in many troubled and homeless folks headed for warmer climates. We never knew who would walk through our glass front doors. One lady we called “Sally Sleuth” because she walked around town with a walkie-talkie and claimed to work for the CIA. She would pop in to see if everything was safe and sound. I confronted one man who said he wanted to take a course. He was holding a makeshift spear. And when a man asked the receptionist if she knew God’s phone number, she answered that God was everywhere, so he did not need a phone to talk with him.
I would spend six years working in what felt like a storefront church.
College students take a course at the new MMI in 1975. (Poynter archives)
The courses were makeshift, one in photojournalism, another in media management, and a summer program for liberal arts college grads thinking of becoming journalists. I taught that course with the help of visiting reporters and editors from the Times. We launched a few careers. An early grad, Liz Balmaseda, would one day win a Pulitzer Prize for her columns in the Miami Herald.
What we lacked was a governing vision, a clear mission and the strategies and resources to bring them to fruition. A turning point came when the leadership decided to rename the place the Poynter Institute. We knew one thing: that we were capable of outperforming our resources, which became part of the DNA of the place for decades to come.
That was our Log Cabin story. Now, 50 years later, we can be proud of our national and international influence, not in a nostalgic sense, but with the energy to find new ways to help journalism and strengthen democracy.
The very first group photo from a MMI seminar, made in 1976. The old bank building is in the background. (Poynter archives)
P.S. That bank building that housed MMI at 556 Central Ave. has been unoccupied for several years and is available for lease. Next to it, the Emerald Bar remains a thriving business. And St. Petersburg has become one of the most creative and desirable cities in America.
Next: Four words on a chalkboard: How Poynter discovered its mojo
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