“I wish I was your age,” Rick Kogan – yes, the Rick Kogan of the Chicago Tribune – says to one of Columbia College’s introduction to journalism classes that I happen to be apart of. A few of us twist around the plastic chairs to get a glimpse at the man of the hour. I am in the front row of a beautiful conference room with a beautiful view at WBEZ’s Navy Pier home, waiting to be enlightened. Truthfully, I had been doubtful: do I really want to be a journalist? This is a dying field. Rick Kogan walks up the isle with the confidence only a cultured, urbane writer can. “You’re in for a remarkable journey,” he says to our wide-eyed, diverse class. And so it begins.
Kogan is taking over the WBEZ’s Afternoon Shift talk show, starting September 23rd, after many years of writing and reporting for the Tribune. “After doing a Sunday morning talk show for numerous years… it’s time for change,” Justin Kaufmann says, introducing Kogan befittingly. Kaufmann, a Columbia College graduate, is the executive producer of the public radio station WBEZ. Kauffmann confirms my suspicions; “it’s a bittersweet time for journalists.” Kogan, however, sees it a bit differently. “It’s a joyful job and nothing is going to change that… The most exciting [job] in the world.”
Kogan instantly launches into what journalism isn’t in Chicago. “This city is not all about Billy Corgin’s new tea shop.” And immediately, my faith in journalism is restored. Kogan’s first story was published when he was fifteen: quite impressive, to be blunt. “Seeing my byline… It was like heroin.” It is obvious that writing is not just a talent. It is a passion; it is a need in the most primitive form. “It’s always been about innate curiosity,” Kogan says. It’s as if this is the most factual statement that could be possibly said. Ever.
Kogan is wrapping up the inspiring – I mean, seriously inspiring – session with a few questions-and-answers when a girl asked what is his most memorable story. He thinks for a moment. “Carla Kelly… [Her] students drew pictures of what they want to be when they grow up… “ He lifts his arms and tenses for a trice, describing these crude drawings, “beauty in this kind of primitive way.” One particular student, Tasha, drew a picture of a tree; she had never seen a tree before. All this little girl knew of the outside world was gathered in her walk from school to home, broken bottles and gun shells, condom wrappers and cigarette butts was the norm. Kogan arranges with Carla Kelly to take little Tasha to Lincoln Park. “We went and saw a canopy of trees, and she says, ‘are we okay? Did we have a car crash and are we dead?’ And I say, ‘no, Tasha, why would you think that?’ She asks, ‘Isn’t this heaven?’ And I say, ‘no, honey, this is Chicago.’”
Immediately I am reminded of my late grandfather. From the short time that I have spent with Kogan, I gather he has the same persona; tough and jaded, yet with enduringly warm eyes. Eyes that have been widened and dampened by the beauty of the world few very people get to see: my grandfather included. And I am reminded, that yes, this is Chicago.
