Journalistic Works

Students wait for the Classic Center Authority board to concede their executive session. (Photo/Natalie Smith)

Event Coverage Article

The Classic Center Authority violated Georgia’s Sunshine Law during a monthly board meeting in March by conducting an executive session without following through with proper protocol.

The Classic Center Authority was met with criticism from student journalists after Tuesday’s meeting when the board improperly entered into a private executive session, violating different acts within Georgia’s Sunshine Law. The meeting covered a host of various topics, such as Classic Center financials, the Elevate Campaign, the Classic Center Arena Letter of Intent and University of Georgia spring graduation ceremonies. The Classic Center Authority was found to have violated The Official Code of Georgia section 50-14-1 of the Georgia Open Records Act, also known as the Sunshine Law. The law states that all meetings must be open to the public, with a motion to enter into executive session passed through a vote by the board. The board did not call a vote, but asked student journalists present at the meeting to exit. In 1989, the CCA was sued by newspapers the Athens Banner-Herald and Athens Daily News for violating the Sunshine Law, by preventing journalists from sitting in on public meetings. The meeting, which is held monthly, was headed by president and CEO of The Classic Center, Paul Cramer. Cramer started the meeting by stating that the arena had a successful year to date, with “four really strong months ahead of us.” The Classic Center is to host 16 events in the entertainment realm through March and April, bringing in a hefty profit. “These are ticketed events with $1.2 million through the ticket system during this period. So we're making a really busy stretch”, said Philip Verrastro, executive of theater and entertainment events, who was in attendance. The board shared details of The Elevate Campaign, which has surpassed its goal of raising $5.5 million. The campaign, launched in August by the Classic Center, is focused on “elevating music, entertainment, and education through innovative programs at The Classic Center, all of which will benefit Athens-Clarke County and the entire state of Georgia,” according to its website. The money raised will go towards initiatives such as The Georgia Music Hall of Fame and partnerships with local entities like the Career Academy and various UGA management programs. The letter of intent for a future 1,000-car parking deck on Hickory Street has been finalized and signed by Mallory and Evans Development, Cramer stated at the meeting. “Our attorney has been through it. They feel good about it,” Cramer said of the LOI. Developers have hired architectural firm Smallwood, Reynolds, Stewart, Stewart and Associates, Inc. to design the parking deck. Details of multiple spring graduations for the University of Georgia were also discussed in the meeting. With Stegeman Coliseum in unstable condition, the University has made a deal with The Classic Center to host 17 of its spring graduation ceremonies. “The volume of people we are going to put through this building is staggering,” Cramer said of the ceremonies. The Classic Center hosts around 700 events a year, generating large sources of revenue for the Athens area.

GLOBIS SPIA Final Project

A final reflection of my human rights research study abroad in Ireland and Northern Ireland, which demonstrates creativity in my journalistic endeavors.

The Weight of History Between Two Worlds: Exploring Irish Identity Across Borders by Natalie Smith One of the first memories of my Irish heritage was with my Uncle Pete. It was 2009, and my family was walking through the doors of St. Mary’s on the Hill Catholic Church after Christmas Eve Mass. The adults were speaking about the duties of the next day: what time to put the ham in the oven, who was bringing what wines, and if we really wanted to go to that one estranged aunts house for a nightcap. As I held his hand to cross the street, Uncle Pete turned to me and said: “Nan, don’t bring him home if he isn’t a good Catholic boy.” Okay, I thought. That can’t be too hard. In reality, that was all I really knew. Sunday School, The Irish Heritage Association, the Downtown Augusta St. Patrick’s Day Parade, where Irish-Catholic families would conglomerate together each year in drunken hordes of green and yellow beads with packs of Miller Lites. At 14-years-old, I entered St. Thomas Aquinas High School, where multiple past generations on my mother’s side had attended school. In my hometown of Augusta, Georgia, Aquinas and St. Mary’s were the lifetime hub of the small Catholic community of the town, with many of the families being of Irish descent. In high school, I quickly learned that of the 50 classmates I graduated with, most of us were related in some sense, or at least had a few aunts and uncles who attended prom together. In this seemingly miniscule sense, I have always identified as “Irish-Catholic”. I acknowledge my American-ness, but in the mixing pot of this country, the smallest ties of heritage have always been clung to, especially in the context of religion. As I got to college and away from the peers I grew up with, when I was hit with the “What are you?” question, I’d never just say “Irish,”; it was always “Irish-Catholic”. It wasn’t until I learned about The Troubles in depth that I realized the reason my family so heavily identified with not just their Irishness, but their Catholicism as well. As a majority of each side of my family had left Ireland before the 1960’s, I concluded that, to them, it was not enough to just be Irish-American. In all senses, to be Irish-American, means to sympathize with the plight of the Catholic brethren who remained in Ireland during The Troubles. There is a collective struggle and memory amongst Irish-Catholics in America of the historical and religious oppression that our ancestors faced at the hands of the British in the 19th and early 20th century. This compatriotism helped to foster large communities in New York City, Boston, Chicago, as well as small little pockets such as mine in Augusta. As I left for Ireland this summer, I made it my goal to not only learn more about The Troubles, but to understand the generational impacts it has had on the Irish people. While I met many incredible people that I will continue to keep in touch with, two different stories stood out to me. In this narrative, I will be recounting two very different conversations with two very different Irish men. I thank them for their insight and will carry their knowledge with me as I continue to learn about the lasting impacts of repression and dissent. Patrick I met Patrick on my fourth day in Dublin. He was a tall, blonde, taxi driver with an unmistakable south Dublin accent. As I thanked him for loading my heavy luggage into his small, dark blue Skoda, he asked me: “Canadian or the obnoxious younger brother?” I wasn’t really taken aback by this statement. I knew to expect mixed attitudes towards Americans. There are valid reasons for both negative and positive associations, and it wasn’t my job to sway any opinions. All I could do was try to stay awake without my morning coffee and make it to my destination. It was a 40-minute drive to the airport, and Patrick was not shy to questions. He asked me where I was from, if I was enjoying the weather, and if I came to Dublin for Taylor Swift. It was about 8AM, and I was tired, but I knew the Irish loved to talk. I, begrudgingly at the time, answered his questions as I leaned against the window and tried to avoid being sick in this non-airconditioned car. “I’m on my way to meet my peers at the airport. We’re studying human rights in Galway,” I told him. In my peripheral, I saw his eyes dart to me in the rearview mirror. “Really! I can take a guess at what you’ll be analyzing,” he chuckled to himself. I knew what he was referencing. Mid-forties, I thought to myself. He was old enough to be around, and I’m direct enough to dig for answers. I sat up and adjusted myself forward. “Yeah, The Troubles,” I said. “I’ve been instructed not to tell my opinion, but to just listen and learn.” Again, he laughed. I knew that line would be a hit. “You know, people don’t like to talk about it. It’s a sore subject still,” he said with eyes glancing between mirror and road. I told him I would be traveling to Belfast, and in turn he told me he had never been. This was shocking to me, as the two cities are only about two hours apart. I asked him why this was. “It’s dangerous still! I wouldn’t want to get mixed up in that, especially this time of year.” At the time, I was confused by this statement. What do you mean, this time of year? It wasn’t until my arrival in Galway that I would learn he was referencing The Orange Walk. Patrick truly believed that by even crossing the city’s borders, his life would be put into danger. As we arrived at the airport, Patrick left me with one message. “There’s a book you might like, it’s called ‘Say Nothing’,” he said as he unloaded my luggage. I told him I had just finished reading it, and he seemed to be very pleased. He told me he loved the book, and that it was a “very accurate” retelling of the time. After a firm handshake and directions to Terminal 2, I sat down to wait for my peers to join me. I pondered, why, if Patrick knew the history and reasons for The Troubles, he would be afraid to journey to Belfast. It wasn’t until courses began in Galway that I could come to some sort of conclusion. Although living in Dublin, Patrick is victim to the collective trauma that came at the hands of The Troubles. As I travelled across the country, I realized that, no matter how far from the border, the Irish people will forever carry those memories. Even decades after the Good Friday Agreement, the ghosts of violence and distrust haunt the Irish psyche, manifesting into a reluctance to move forward. Cormac Cormac was tall, about 6’5. Ginger, freckles, blue eyes – the epitome of a good Irish lad. I saw him on the dating app Bumble while in Belfast, and knew I had to swipe right. We met up on a Friday in The Cathedral Quarter. He was funny, loud, with a thick south Armagh accent. I found myself asking him to repeat himself often, and instead of speaking slower he just got louder. Born in Culloville, a town of 400 people on the border between Northern Ireland and The Republic, Cormac studies electrical engineering at Queens University while playing on the school’s rugby 7s team. His father is a farmer, and the family are devout Catholics. As he walked me home from the pubs, I decided to take him up on a nightcap at his college house on Stranmills Road. The house, although in a mid 19th century row home, was like that of any typical 22-year-old boy - dirty, smelly, with clothes everywhere. A shopping cart filled with dark liquors sat infront of a door with a “DO NOT ENTER” sign plastered across the front. But certain things were different than the American fraternal stereotype. Instead of “Don’t Tread on Me” flags, there was a Palestinian flag draped in the living room above a fairly crooked 72-inch flatscreen. IRA sympathy insignia peppered the walls, with metal signs in unreadable Irish adorned next to lovingly mounted rosaries (gifts from his mother, he later told me). “Wow,” I remember saying, “You would never see this in a man’s home in Georgia.” It’s true. I had never seen a man of his age hold a pro-Palestinian stance. I could tell he was slightly perplexed by this sentiment, so I explained to him that most of the men I experience in the South could care less about the plight of an oppressed group halfway across the world. “I mean, how could I not care?” he said. Over a lukewarm can of Guinness, Cormac explained to me what life was like living on the border in the years following the fallout of The Troubles. He told me he considered himself a full-blooded Irishman despite living in The North, and that he had suspicions of older family members being active in the IRA in the past. “He never said it, but my uncle was the type. He would die to see an independent Ireland!,” he told me while Fleetwood Mac played in the background. In exchange for seemingly secretive and hushed stories on his childhood, I shared with him my favorite Bruce Springsteen songs. I learned that life for him was still slightly tumultuous in terms of conflict. His county of Armagh, while majority Catholic, was still home to a strong Protestant population. He told me his mother was not a “fan” of him befriending Protestant boys while growing up, and he was only allowed to participate in “Catholics Only” sports groups. Although it slightly baffled me, I had some understanding. With The Troubles “ending” decades before, it’s not surprising that the mindset which was held by each opposing side would be passed down to their children, and to their children’s children. I asked Cormac how he feels now about Protestants. “I’ve some friends from a Prod background, but it’s never been easy,” he said as “Sunny Side of Heaven” ended, and “Walkabout” by The Sugarcubes began to play. As the sun started to come up, I walked back to my dorm room and slept on the night I had. When I woke, I tried my hardest to take in my experience, and wonder about what I had learned. While some conclusions were reached, I have decided that instead of just analyzing, I should rather be thankful for the gift of cultural immersion into a community that I so deeply cherish. Cormac offered me a different perspective than Patrick. Having grown up in The North, even though he was much younger, Cormac has seen at a different level the impacts of The Troubles on his community. The Troubles continues to shape the lives of future generations of the island, as well as insert questions into the complexities of what it truly means to be Irish. While much of the youth culture in recent years is formed in a worldwide, Western scope, there are intersections of both politics and religious heritage at play in Northern Irelands youth. After spending about 5 weeks in Ireland, I have decided to return to continue my postgrad education. There is still so much left for me to learn, both inside and outside of the classroom. As mentioned in my final reflection, I will be pursuing a master’s degree in journalism. My hope is to move forward documenting the lives and experiences of those in the fallout of repressive systems, as well as bringing awareness to human rights violations across the globe. I am eternally grateful to the SPIA GLOBIS program for giving me the opportunity to discover more in depth what I wish to do with my life. This summer changed my life for the better.

Mayor Kelly Girtz references his notes during the conference. (Photo/Natalie Smith)

News Conference Article

Housing and retail renovation will become the future of west Athens if the redevelopment of the Georgia Square Mall is approved.

The Athens-Clarke County Commission will come together on March 7 to vote on the proposed Georgia Square Mall redevelopment plan that, if passed, would rejuvenate the area and bring a new era of retail shopping and consumerism to the city. Athens Mayor Kelly Girtz held a press conference on Friday to share his proposals for renovating and revitalizing the Atlanta Highway Georgia Square Mall property, a plan that he hopes will “create a magnetic new environment” in the western part of the city. The plan proposes to transform the run-down mall into a mixed-use community with affordable housing developments, walking trails, transit stations and improved shopping centers. The mall, built in 1981, lies on approximately 75 acres of land about eight miles to the west of Downtown Athens. According to the Georgia Square Mall Redevelopment TAD Funding Application, 65% of the mall sits vacant as of November 2022 with 895,000 square feet of rentable building space available. “I don't want to have my name attached to a gravel pit on Atlanta Highway,” Girtz proclaimed in reference to the dilapidated mall. If the commission decides to approve the redevelopment plan, a tax allocation district funding request of approximately $141 million will be granted, alongside the initial investment of $333 million from the Athens Development Group, the party responsible for the development. The plan seeks to create 1,188 residential units, including townhomes, active adult units and multi-familial units, as well as 352,000 square feet of commercial space. The building will be implemented in three separate phases, with completion planned for 2027. Of the homes, Girtz says “a family who earned about $45,000 a year would be able to afford one”. The housing is expected to be set at 80% of the current median rent price and potential residents will be met with screening to ensure their yearly income meets requirements. “People are looking for these mixed use spaces. And also spaces where after you're done with your shopping experience, you can roll around the corner of your apartment on your feet,” Girtz exclaimed. He emphasized that the renovation of the mall is going to create a new West Side town center environment that will stand the test of time.

Profile Article

The Safety Of A City Through Pen And Paper: How One City Commissioner Dedicates Her Life To The Protection Of Cyclists And Pedestrians

Carol Myers comes to a stop upon her red electric bike In front of Athens City Hall. It is obvious she is confident in her biking skills as she sports a pair of black open-toed sandals. Donned in bright green safety apparel, she takes a seat beside a park bench, halfway sitting in the grass. “Are we ready to do this thing?,” she says with a smile. Carol Myers has lived in Athens since 1984, and currently represents District 8 as city commissioner. Hailing from the suburbs of New York City, Myers found herself in Georgia after following her ex-husband to the state, claiming it was half-way between his home in Texas and hers in New York. Myers works with fellow commissioners to ensure bike lane safety and accessibility throughout busy Athens streets. Her current proposition is to extend bike lines from Barber Street to Prince Street, with a vote by the commission expected in the upcoming months. “There's 20% of people who say they'll never get on a bike, and then there are people who get on but they're cautious. And then there are other ones who said they'll get on if they had safe, protected lanes,” Myers said. The effort she puts into her work is to encourage “more people to normalize bike use.”. Stubbornly rejecting the title of “hippie”, but embracing the notion of “bohemian”, the red bike she arrived on is a large part of her life; an homage to her past in New York. Biking has been a part of Myers’ story since the start. “I had a bike that I got around on on the streets, and this is in the suburbs in New York. I rode my bike to school… so I had my bike there. And when I'm going off to college, I had my bike there… so I’ve never not had a bike.” After leaving her position as dean of general education at Athens Technical College in 2015 after nearly 30 years at the school, Myers found herself delving into the world of local government, taking up a specific interest in commuter safety. In 2016, she became involved with Athens in Motion, a commission dedicated to the development and implementation of safe and connected networks of bicycle and pedestrian facilities throughout the city. Myers always assumed that when engineers design roads, the main goal would be to keep people safe. However, she claims that through her collaborations with local nonprofits such as Vision Zero and Bike Athens, she learned that cyclist and pedestrian safety are put on a back burner, with travel efficiency at the forefront. Since then, Myers has continued to dedicate her time to both grassroots efforts and government work to ensure pedestrian and cycling safety in Athens. District 6 commissioner, Jesse Houle, works in close collaboration with Myers. He testifies that Myers is a “core component” of the city government, and works tirelessly to make Athens safer. “This bike world that I'm coming from, from bike advocacy, you know, there's so many reasons to get people out of cars. I don't think we're gonna get everyone out of cars…I just want people to feel safer doing other modes of transportation,” Myers proclaimed. By the time her first term as District 8 commissioner comes to an end in two years, Myers has high hopes for what she would like to see change in Athens regarding cycling and pedestrian safety. She believes it her job to ensure that the community moves in a direction that encompasses clean energy and bikes, and wishes to allocate the money she is responsible for in the most effective way possible.