Like all news organizations, The Chronicle deals in the business of the present. What is groundbreaking one moment can be irrelevant the next, and so status updates must be continually composed, the website constantly updated and a new paper printed each morning. It is only logical that in such an environment—one where yesterday’s events are quickly laid to rest, whether at the bottom of a Twitter feed or of the recycling bin—the past is often seen as more or less irrelevant. While Chronicle headlines of yesteryear may no longer be current, they are nonetheless significant. To examine the history of The Chronicle is to examine the history of Duke itself, to witness the institution’s evolution through the words of its students.
The Chronicle has not only recorded the University’s changes, it has also reflected them: as Duke evolved from a small regional school to an international research university, The Chronicle developed from a modest weekly paper to an expansive daily one. Similarly, what was originally a small staff of white males has become a group of hundreds of diverse students. The school and the paper are irrevocably connected, and their histories have mirrored and shaped one another.
The Chronicle is older than the University itself. When the newspaper’s first issue was published in the winter of 1905, Duke was still known as Trinity College. Decades before James B. Duke gave his money and his name to the school, Trinity College was virtually indistinguishable from any other small, Southern liberal arts college. Indeed, turn-of-the-century Duke differed vastly from its modern counterpart, with strong ties to the Methodist Church and a campus that comprised only a collection of wooden buildings on what is now East Campus. It was here that The Chronicle was born, the joint creation of members of the Hesperian and Columbian literary societies. In the 1880s, the groups had attempted to create several different publications, but none lasted longer than a few years. The Chronicle, however, was different.
The first issue, published Dec. 19, 1905, was just four pages and featured articles about a campus debate and a speech, setting the standard for the sort of coverage—student activities and on-campus events—that would dominate the paper during its first few decades. Until the 1920s, the paper was run exclusively by the Hesperian and the Columbian, and the entire staff was made up of members of the societies. To select editors each year, an eight-member board was established with four men from each literary society.
But after 20 years of publication, control of The Chronicle was wrestled away from the societies by William Wannamaker, dean of Trinity College. A new, independent board of governors was formed with balanced perspectives in mind: two faculty members, two alumni, two undergraduate men and two undergraduate women. The paper continued its weekly production schedule and coverage of student organizations, though the 1930s brought opportunities for more exciting news such as the construction of West Campus and the football team’s first Rose Bowl appearance in 1939.
The start of World War II, however, saw the paper’s coverage take on a notably broader scope. For the first time, The Chronicle regularly wrote about topics that had a significance beyond campus. The newspaper ran features on student participation in the army and the war effort, and the editorial page featured opinions on the war. The Chronicle additionally asserted its legitimacy by expanding its publishing schedule from once a week to twice a week—the first of several steps toward becoming a daily. Also notable during this time was the first female editor-in-chief, Donna Hughes, who assumed the position in March 1943 after two male editors that year were called to serve in the military.
In the 1950s, The Chronicle adopted the motto “The Tower of Campus Thought and Action.” Coverage of social activism and civil rights increased—a prelude to the turmoil and protests that would seize both the campus and The Chronicle during the 1960s.
“I see the ‘50s as a birthplace for many of the changes that blossomed in the following decade,” former Editor-in-Chief Paul Tuerff, Trinity ’56, wrote in an essay for the paper’s 100th anniversary.
The paper switched to printing three days a week, and it strove to embody its new motto with coverage that engaged readers on multiple levels.
“We felt that it was important not only to keep the campus community informed, but to stimulate them to think and to get involved in important issues of the day,” said Bethany Sinnott ’62, who served as editor-in-chief during her senior year.
Even with its newfound boldness and tenacity, The Chronicle was still bound to the University, both financially and editorially—the agreements with Duke that had been forged in the paper’s early days still held strong. While The Chronicle generated some of its own money from advertising, it was also reliant on yearly student fees, and so representatives from the paper went before the student government each year to ask for the necessary funding. Duke’s editorial control over the paper was far weaker than the student government’s, but it was always a threat: although the University rarely censored the paper, it retained the power to do so at its discretion. A notable incident of suppression occurred in December of 1959, when Duke prohibited The Chronicle from printing a column satirizing the nativity scene. Not only did the University censor the column, it fired the paper’s top editors and replaced them with students of its own choosing. Under the new staff—who had previously had no involvement with the paper—The Chronicle was forced to publish two days a week rather than three. Although the old editorial staff regained control after a few weeks, the biweekly printing schedule remained until 1966.
“We were aware that if we offended the University, we could be shut down,” Sinnott said.
Its lack of independence notwithstanding, The Chronicle became increasingly outspoken during the 1960s. The editorial board was strongly in favor of activism and printed both news and opinion pieces supporting the integration of the University, as well as student protests of the Vietnam War. In 1968, the paper moved to a daily publication schedule under Editor-in-Chief Alan Ray.
“We reasoned that a great university needed a daily campus newspaper to keep informed about itself,” Ray in an article commemorating the paper’s thirtieth anniversary as a daily. “Because it was a daily—and because so many of the staff believed so passionately in reforming society—The Chronicle soon became a lively forum for rapid communication of fast-moving events.”
In its first year as a daily paper, The Chronicle recorded plenty of significant news. Student vigils were held following the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy, and sit-ins took place to advocate for improved race relations. The Afro-American Society led a takeover of the Allen Building—home to Duke’s top administrators—that ended with local police spraying students with tear gas. The Chronicle featured all of these events prominently, making no effort to conceal its support of the students’ activism. At times, the paper’s slant was remarkably overt: when Richard Nixon was elected president, the paper placed a black border around the front page, explaining “a front page black border is a newspaper’s traditional symbol of mourning. Today, after the election, The Chronicle displays it.”
Although Duke’s campus was not quite as tumultuous during the 1970s as in the ’60s, The Chronicle retained much of its liberal passion.
“Rather than comply with the arbitrary standards of ‘objective’ journalism, The Chronicle has decided its value to Duke is greatest in the observation of another, equally arbitrary set of standards—those of ‘advocacy’ journalism,” wrote the editorial board in 1975.
But as the 1970s melted into the 1980s, the newspaper began to move away from its fervent activism and towards a more traditionally professional standard of work. The University was becoming increasingly prominent under the leadership of President Terry Sanford, and The Chronicle was growing more experienced and better established.
Karen Blumenthal ’81, who served as Editor-in-Chief of the paper during her junior year, described her time at The Chronicle as a period of change for the University.
“It sort of made the transition from protesting the Vietnam War and the Nixon era to a more staid political environment,” Blumenthal said.
The University’s hospital opened, the Bryan Center was built and Duke won its first national championship—a men’s soccer title—in 1986. The Chronicle was there for all of it, becoming more objective and reputable as the University grew in eminence.
As The Chronicle moved into the 1990s, it began work on a new goal: total independence from Duke. The paper had ceased taking student fees in the 1980s—meaning that it had been years since the University had affected the paper either editorially or financially—but The Chronicle still sought the symbolic importance of being an entirely independent publication.
“For the most part, we were completely autonomous,” said Michael Saul, Editor-in-Chief of The Chronicle during the push for independence. “But the editors and managers felt very strongly that we needed to codify this autonomy.”
In 1993, the paper finally broke its formal ties with the University and incorporated as the Duke Student Publishing Company. Although the paper still has agreements with the University concerning distribution rights and office space, The Chronicle is completely independent editorially and financially.
“It really is an important moment for the paper,” Saul said. “It’s a conflict of interest to have any financial ties or potential editorial ties to the folks that we’re covering, so separating legally added credibility.”
In the 2000s, the paper tackled a fresh set of challenges—among them, a story of unprecedented magnitude for the University and one that proved trying for even the country’s most experienced journalists. When three Duke lacrosse players were falsely accused of raping an exotic dancer at a team party in 2006, the national media descended on Durham, weaving the case into a broader narrative of race, privilege and Duke culture. The Chronicle had a unique position on the front lines of the story.
“We knew that we were positioned right where we needed to be to cover the case well. We knew that we had the opportunity to serve as the go-to forum for the Duke community, writ large, at a time when it really needed one,” said Ryan McCartney, Editor-in-Chief of The Chronicle in 2006-2007, in a retrospective interview with the paper. “We were chronicling a defining moment in the history of Duke.”
As the case progressed, ethical quandaries abounded—the district attorney was revealed as corrupt and the Duke administration was criticized for its treatment of the accused players, creating an exceptionally complex and multifaceted storyline.
“We remained as even-handed as any publication covering the story, even as sentiments on both sides of the did-they-do-it debate were deepening and, in some cases, spiraling out of control,” said Seyward Darby, Editor-in-Chief of The Chronicle in 2005-2006.
During the lacrosse case, the paper used its website more than ever before. Much of the story developed over weekends and school breaks, requiring that The Chronicle be able to update its readers more frequently than it could with each morning’s print edition alone. Launched in the mid-1990s, the website was originally little more than a simple archive updated once a day. By the mid-2000s, however, the site had gained importance and popularity, and today it is read by considerably more people than its print counterpart. Updates are posted consistently and articles are no longer words alone, but instead true multimedia stories.
“In the modern age, people want news coming at them as soon as possible,” said Danielle Muoio, current Editor-in-Chief of The Chronicle. “We’re balancing getting things out quickly without losing quality.”
In the early summer of 2013, the paper took a step further into the realm of the Internet. The Chronicle announced that it would switch to a printing schedule of four days a week, opening up the staff to further pursue digital storytelling and better meet the needs of its readers.
“We’re still a daily production,” Muoio said. “Going forward, the goal is to continue to reach our goal of getting stories to our readers in the most efficient way, making some exciting changes online.”
Although today’s digital model is a far cry from the weekly production schedule the paper once had, some aspects of The Chronicle have remained largely the same over the years. Since the 1950s, the paper’s office has been located on the third floor of the Flowers building, a relatively haphazard collection of side rooms and hallways complemented by worn carpets and slanted ceilings.
“It still looks very much the same,” laughed Sinnott, who visited the office this Spring, more than 50 years after her graduation.
As one might imagine to be the case with a space passed down through generations of college students, it is typically far from tidy. Most desks are in a near-constant state of disarray, various abandoned belongings accumulate in corners and drawers hold any number of broken pens and paper scraps. The walls are plastered with photographs, newspapers and long-forgotten inside jokes. A vending machine provides caffeine for late nights of production, and there is a lounge with broken bookshelves and a cluster of couches whose age has made them extraordinarily comfortable, albeit questionably clean. Hanging on one wall is a framed copy of a 1992 edition of The Chronicle, commemorating the death of 22-year-old Editor-in-Chief Matt Sclafani from cancer. The office is home to The Chronicle—to meetings, interviews, writing and editing—but it is also home to its staffers—to much-needed naps, to laughter over late-night dinners, to homework and arguments and romance.
“It’s a dorm room that puts out a newspaper,” wrote Rolly Miller, who worked in The Chronicle’s editorial office from 1986 to 2009. “Everything happens here.”
Despite the many changes the paper has undergone, the experience of working on The Chronicle is in some ways remarkably similar to what it was a century ago. Then, as now, a commitment to the newsroom typically results in sleep deprivation, a deflated GPA and occasional heartbreak. But it also leads to enduring friendships, invaluable skills and a notably unique experience.
“My grades took quite a slump, but that training and experience I would not exchange for anything,” wrote Ural Hoffman, one of the paper’s founders and its second editor.
It’s a sentiment that has been echoed throughout the decades. To work for The Chronicle is a labor of love: sometimes frustrating but ultimately worthwhile, an experience that yields all sorts of adventures and benefits, concrete and intangible alike. It is an experience that has evolved as the University has changed, but it at its core it has remained the same. The Chronicle has been a seminal part of the college experience for generations of Duke students—the place where they spent their time, dedicated their efforts, made their friends, learned, loved, grew up. It has increased in size and scope, gained and lost readers, defined and redefined itself—but it has been there the whole time.
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