Yeah, yeah, I know. Last night was the Grammys.
But, more importantly, it was also the night of the PEN USA Literary Awards, an event when writers and editors from all over Southern California show up at the Beverly Hills Hotel wearing slightly rumpled dress-up clothes and looking deeply startled to be away from their computers.
(I include myself among the rumpled and startled. And, in truth, most people looked quite snazzy; it was more of a metaphorical rumpledness. I did, however, talk to two different—very stellar—writer friends who confessed that they had each changed clothes in the car. It’s not that we don’t care about such sartorial matters, it’s just that we have other things on our minds.)
As is usual, a pile of awards were given to a bunch of fabulously talented and deserving people (whom you can find listed here). And lots of literary types got up and said inspiring and articulate things.
But there were two moments in the night that stood out for me.
THE FIRST MOMENT was when PEN’s International Freedom to Write Award. was given to U Win Tin, the 79-year-old Burmese journalist/poet who has been imprisoned for 19 years for his writing. He was finally released 42 days ago.
U Win Tin was jailed by the military junta in Myanmar (which, as you’ll remember, is what Burma is now called) simply for his peaceful opposition to the generals. It seems he had the bad sense to write about the need for human rights and freedom of expression, and to work (legally) for the country’s other main political party, the National League for Democracy (NLD) The NLD, incidently, won 82% of seats in general elections in 1990. (The generals didn’t like the election results so started locking people up.) U Win Tin was Myanmar’s longest serving prisoner of conscience
THE SECOND MOMENT was less dramatic, but in some ways more satisfying. It occurred when my friend Jesse Katz won PEN’s 2008 Literary Journalism award for his article for LA Magazine about the Jordan High School academic decathlon team.
The story, titled “The Test of Their Lives,” is not about a Cinderella team from the inner city who wins the local competition against impossible odds. The usual suspects won the LAUSD championship that year—namely El Camino High School in the West San Fernando Valley. And not only did El Camino win the LAUSD trophy. They won the state championship and then went on to win the national championship—as they have many other years. (When neighboring Taft High School isn’t winning it.)
In other words, for the Crenshaw Aca Deca team, it’s like trying to get fired-up to play your heart out at college basketball, all the while knowing that the Lakers are in your regional league.
Jesse spent six months shadowing the team and wrote a terrific piece about the Crenshaw kids who, with none of the advantages of the El Camino and Taft teams, competed with great heart and intelligence. They didn’t win. But they excelled. They shone. They held their own.
Last night Jesse brought one of he decathlon team members with him to the dinner, a tall, good-looking kid named Lance Mossett who was one of the main characters in the article When Jesse got up to accept the award, he introduced Lance to the crowd. It seems that Lance, who was one of the junior Aca Deca team members when Jesse was writing about the group, is now the team captain. He is also in the midst of applying for colleges.
“And Lance,” Jessie said into the mic, but staring at the kid, “I understand this award comes with a check……which I’ll sign over to you as soon as you get a letter of acceptance from college.”
The room exploded with applause.
The check is for a $1000 —-not a fortune in today’s world of high priced tuition, even for state schools. But, while a generous gesture, it wasn’t really about the money. It was about expressing pride and faith in a great kid.
I spoke to Lance during the dinner, at which time (as you’ll see above) he flashed his trillion-dollar grin, and said he was applying to Pitzer and Lewis and Clark colleges. Judging by what I saw last night, and what I know about Lance from Jesse’s article, any college would be foolish not to take this guy.
Tomorrow we can go back to talking about the usual sobering news stories. Today, however, I figure we can all take a breath and simply bask in last night’s good news.
Here’s a link to Pam and Blinky’s tale of woe, or is it?
http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-pam4-2008dec04,0,1512855.story
Thanks, Walter. Cool. I got home so late last night that I completely forgot to read it. I’ll post it (and read it) tonight.
[…] When I learned that my story would be receiving the PEN Center USA’s 2008 literary journalism award, I invited Lance to be my guest at the banquet. I picked him up at 89th and Avalon, a corner busy with churchworkers by day and streetwalkers by night, and from there we drove to the Beverly Hills Hotel. We were seated with Paul Thomas Anderson, at a table paid for by the William Morris Agency, and when I was called on to accept my prize—a $1,000 check—I embarrassed Lance by asking him to stand, too, and pledged him the money upon his acceptance to college. As the applause enveloped him, Lance blushed and bowed, basking in the spontaneous joy, the collective hope. He was still only 17, midway through his senior year, but he owned the Pink Palace that night, a moment documented by the always thoughtful and empathetic Celeste Fremon, for WitnessLA. […]