Terry Anderson, journalist and former hostage, was also a poet and a friend
Apr 22, 2024 | 12:07 pm ET
Description
Terry Anderson. (Screenshot from video by Michael Bugeja)
I knew about Terry Anderson as early as 1974, before his kidnapping a decade later by Shiite Muslims in Lebanon, where he remained a hostage for 2,454 days, suffering mental and physical torture.
I worked as a reporter for United Press International. Terry worked for our competitor, The Associated Press. We knew him by reputation as one of the fiercest reporters in the business.
I left UPI in 1979, taking a position at Oklahoma State University as media advisor to the student newspaper, The “O’Collegian.” I remained in academe till this day, teaching journalism at Ohio University and later at Iowa State University.
I, like the rest of the world, learned about the horrors of his kidnapping. Later, upon his release, I was teaching media ethics at OU’s Scripps School of Journalism and watched in relief as Terry gave his first TV news conference.
“How did you survive?” a pool reporter asked. “The Bible and poetry,” Terry replied. The media followed up with reports about the Bible. Nobody at first reprinted his poetry.
In addition to being a journalist, I also was a poet, with publications in Poetry, Harper’s and Kenyon Review, among others. One of my most popular poems was “Hove,” about my UPI mentors, combat reporters Leon Daniel and Kate Webb.
Kate also was captured during her time in Viet Nam. The body of a white woman, later identified as a nurse, was found, and we thought it was Kate. UPI held her funeral. Then she emerged from the triple-tier jungle and wrote what I still believe is the finest lead ever written: “It was like a butcher shop in Eden, beautiful but ghastly.”
“Hove” discusses her capture and the impact it had on Leon, her bureau chief. You can read it by clicking here.
In December 1991, I was poetry columnist for Writer’s Digest and tried to get an interview with Terry about his poetry. I got his address from the Freedom Forum and wrote:
“During your captivity, for reasons I cannot yet fully explain, I prayed for you every month at Christ Lutheran Church in Athens. We have a moment during prayers to offer them up to someone we know, and I did so for you, even though I did not know you personally and am as jaded sometimes as the next journalist.
“I would like you to consider sharing a few of your poems with me and Writer’s Digest readers who will be inspired that you, in perhaps your darkest moments, turned to art—their art.”
I received a reply:
“Thank you for your letter welcoming me home and for the invitation to publish some of my poetry in Writer’s Digest. I am not sure what I’m going to do with the poetry. Some of it is going to be used in the book I am writing. The rest I believe I will hold for a little while until I figure out what to do with it. Perhaps at that time (whenever it may be) we could talk again.”
I persisted, writing another letter with a copy of my poem, “Hove.”
He wrote back immediately:
“Yes, I’m perfectly willing to talk to you about poetry and the things I wrote. I enjoyed your poem ‘Hove’ very much and have kept it to show to some of my journalist friends. It captures my own feelings, I know, and I’m sure my colleagues will agree.”
So began our friendship. A few years later, Terry left a message on my answering machine. He was going to teach journalism at Columbia University. “What exactly is a syllabus, Michael, and what does one actually put in it?”
Our friendship evolved from wire service reporter and poet to journalism educator. In 1998, Terry telephoned me again to ask if I knew of any job openings in journalism. Yes, I lied. We have an opening here at Scripps that would be, well, perfect for you.
I got my dean to agree. We made an offer, and he came to Ohio University.
When the 9/11 attack happened in 2001, I immediately thought about Terry and the flashbacks he probably was suffering. I have never shared this before. I left the Scripps building, went to the local florist, and bought him two dozen yellow roses.
I drove to his ranch in rural Athens and knocked on the door, only to see Terry with a shocked look, perhaps in the midst of one of his many flashbacks. We hugged and he took the flowers. We bonded again and became best friends.
In 2003, I relocated from OU to the Greenlee School of Journalism and Communication at Iowa State University and was delighted to learn that Terry was an alumnus and wrote for the student newspaper here before he graduated and joined the Marine Corps. Terry had received ISU’s Highest Honor for Service to the Journalism Profession, the Schwartz Award, in 1987. In 2004, Terry was the featured speaker at Greenlee’s “First Amendment Day.”
This weekend, I learned about his passing due to complications after recent heart surgery. He was 76.
I created a YouTube memorial about our friendship, including three videos that I did with him 25 years ago about his being a journalist, a hostage and a poet.
Just as happened when Terry was released from captivity, the news media now in his obituaries have focused on his being a hostage, especially relevant, in as much as there are hostages again in the Middle East with the war between Israel and Hamas.
Perhaps society needs to be reminded now more than ever about the power of poetry to endure, to heal, to befriend and to bond. I know Terry would agree.
Des Moines, IA
