Dear Mike:
You’re entering what will probably be one of the most rewarding years of your life and I envy you.
We’ve talked a lot about next year already and most of the things I can tell you you already know, probably better than I. But I thought I’d put them here, in print, where you could look at it from time to time and these thoughts will be a little help next year.
First: Never underestimate your own power. You can’t know quite what I mean yet, but next year you’ll get so sick of sycophants and cynics that you’ll be sure only a fool would sit down here working on a little newspaper that gets thrown away half the time and mocked the rest.
But don’t kid yourself. I didn’t learn quite how widely Varsity editorials were read until the Peter Woodcock incident or the down town dailies’ capers with Paul Rush’s thoughts on royalty.
Every word you write down here is read by a vast audience that looks upon you as the voice of Canada’s greatest university. Second: Never over-estimate it.
You may be an awfully big frog but it’s an awfully small pond. A lot of people on campus—you know this as well as I—put a great deal of time into activities without the glory of The Varsity. When you condemn them, you can sting. Don’t sit in judgement too often.
Read the masthead. If I were going to do it all over again I’d paste that “Suffer yourselves…” quotation on my shaving mirror or somewhere. Don’t ever be afraid of what you think. If this year’s paper has had one basic fault, it is that we were too wishy-washy, too fair to both sides.
I don’t mean jump in and ride your own preconceived opinions to a bitter end. If you’re wrong—and you will be sometimes—admit it. But don’t sit on the fence.
You know the other things I want to say. Keep it clean and all that. You will, I know. It’s your paper now, and I’m confident you’ll do a splendid job.
But there’s one thing I would add: and if it’s a trifle sentimental it’s because this is a sentimental time of year and a person can become awfully attached to this little newspaper.
Look back through the files occasionally. Read the mastheads. Read the by-lines. Read the anniversary issue. You’ll get the oddest feeling of hundreds of old editors and reporters and columnists and letter writers and doers of all the jobs that help build The Varsity, all looking at you, and all trusting you to keep up the tradition. I know I did. It’s like the runner with the Olympic torch. You’ll see what I mean.
It’s a fine paper, Mike. No matter how good or bad each year may be, the real history is there. You and I and all the other students who’ve been lucky enough to get their names at the top of the masthead list are each only a small part.
You’ve got a good staff and a good chance.
All I can add is good luck.
Sincerely, Pete.
