"Sometimes I can still see the little girl's face in the car window. We were all helpless to help her. Then the car blew up and I was thrown back."
Charley Harrist, editor of the Atlanta Citizens Journal, recalled the above accident scene as one of many he has observed during his career. The veteran journalist has seen his share of death and despair close up.
"I've seen the ugly underbelly of life," he said. "I was literally chasing ambulances. I saw a lot of death. I saw a lot of crime. A lot of that still sticks with me."
After returning to Atlanta earlier this year as sports editor of the Journal, Harrist drifted back into news and recently has covered the emotional "meth deaths" stories. In his personal opinion column, Point Blank, Harrist has challenged readers of the newspaper to take long, hard looks at how many agencies and individuals involved in the cases -- from the justice of the peace to the District Attorney to the Ark-La-Tex Drug Task Force -- are doing their jobs.
Taking the system to task is nothing new for Harrist, a 1968 graduate of Atlanta High School. After working with his father Charles Harrist, Sr., in the family real estate and construction business, the younger Harrist decided to try something different when his father retired.
Harrist answered an ad at the Texarkana Gazette, and was herded toward the advertising department by Bob King. But Harrist asked if anything else was available and was told about reporter positions including coverage of the police beat.
"The police beat sounded interesting," Harrist recalled. "You heard something on the scanner; you rolled on it. None of the other reporters liked it. I worked it for 17 months, and it was the best grounding I could have gotten in this business.
"I didn't have a good relationship with law enforcement at first. I had to develop a rapport."
Which he did, eventually even being allowed to go undercover with certain units.
"Law enforcement is more suspicious of the media now, and it's probably the media's fault. Not long ago I noticed the lead story of all three network newscasts was the same as the headline on the tabloid magazine at the grocery store checkout. The media has become the morality police, and that disturbs me.
"I used to be fairly proud to tell people I'm a journalist, but now I don't necessarily say it when I walk into a room."
PIZZA HUT MURDERS
Harrist's time on the police beat likely prepared him for what 1982 would bring his way -- the Pizza Hut murders in Daingerfield. Coverage of the triple homicide brought him face to face with the man accused of the murders, Calvin Padgett -- and Harrist believed he was innocent. Because Harrist was allowed to interview Padgett before he talked to his court appointed attorney, Harrist became a witness in the case.
"That began my bad relationship with the Texas Rangers," Harrist said. "I developed some information up in Oklahoma that pointed toward others as the killers. Yes, Calvin was a career criminal, but I think they used him as a scapegoat. "The Rangers finally admitted that they went back to square one after getting my evidence."
But after a plea bargain, Padgett was convicted of one of the murders and died in prison.
"I'm afraid justice got thrown out in the judge's chambers," Harrist lamented. "I learned a lot about our system."
And Harrist was also learning to turn up the heat on a lot of fronts.
MORE HOT STORIES
While at the Steel Country Bee, his coverage of the layoffs at Lone Star Steel included discussions of the company's management as well as some criticism of the United Steelworkers Union.
"The Union boycotted the Bee. I received death threats. It was a very serious time."
It was about this time that Harrist began "pushing the envelope" with his Point Blank column.
"I am going to say what's on my mind, regardless of the consequences," he said. "I say what people are thinking, but are afraid to say.
"Sometimes the paper is the last place people think they can turn to."
And over the years at each stop along his journalism journey, Harrist has turned his considerable reporting skills on other controversial stories including a fatality accident involving a Department of Public Safety (DPS) Trooper while working in Killeen; the First Republic banking scandal in Corsicana; and the departure of Police Chief Charles Wisdom in Atlanta.
Harrist was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for his seven part series on how the banking scandal was affecting Corsicana.
"We did a lot good," Harrist said. "I don't find controversy; it finds me."
AWAY FROM THE JOB
But the strain of controversy also took its toll on Harrist's professional and personal life.
"I lost jobs twice because I refused to change the way I do things. But I can look at myself in the mirror," Harrist said.
Harrist believes his passion for his work also contributed to the recent breakup of his marriage of 25 years.
"We're still great friends, but there is a huge price to being associated with me," he said. "I can't change."
But it was change that Harrist was seeking when he returned to Atlanta for his second stint as a Journal staff member.
"I called mom on her 70th birthday and decided it was time to come home.
"I love seeing my old classmates. For the first time in many, many years I feel at home. I've finally got a sense of home. I enjoy that.
"I want to be in a small community where I can make a difference," Harrist added. "Where I can be a positive influence and be a watchdog."
But it didn't start out that way this time around as he accepted the position of Sports Editor. "I thought sports might keep me out of trouble," he laughed.
Wrong!
When he received a phone call from a Gibson Recycling employee who said workers weren't getting paid, Harrist's nose for news began twitching. What followed was a series of articles that detailed the problems at the facility, the owner's corrective attempts and the State of Texas' effort to shut it down.
METH DEATHS
Then when a co-worker's son was found dead with high levels of methamphetamine in his body, Harrist's grappling with a familiar theme -- death -- began again.
"To me," Harrist said, "all these deaths happened needlessly."
His stories included interviews with alleged meth manufacturers.
"I went to the drug dealers and let them have their say and let the readers decide," Harrist explained, "I got criticized for supporting them, but I want to expose them, not support them. I want them out of here."
During the reporting of how the three (now four) seemingly unrelated "accidental" deaths could indeed be related by the common denominator of high levels of methamphetamine in the systems of each of the deceased, Harrist resurrected his Point Blank column.
The stories and columns evoked responses in print from Cass County District Attorney Randal Lee and Ark-La-Tex NarcoticsTask Force Commander Jerry Walraven.
"I have to be professional and go through the process and let them have their say, too," Harrist said. "I tell public officials that there are times when we won't see eye to eye, but I want to report the news factually and accurately.
"One thing that most public officials haven't learned is if there is something wrong, tell me. We'll put it in the paper. Get it out in the open. That's the best way to deal with it."
SUPPORT ABOUNDS
Harrist gets calls of support for his reporting style and also knows some people do not care for it.
"Telling it like it is, is what people want," he said. "They rally around it."
"I'd like for people to like me," he admits. "But don't get me wrong, I want them to respect me. I can't half-ass this business.
Long-time friend and former co-worker Steve Rushing says of Harrist, "He has a true passion and devotion for the truth. Charley may be one of those rare individuals who doesn't have a price."
Harrist is also surrounded by family in Atlanta with mother Jeri and
sisters Judy Pitts, Nancy Smith and Lori
Collins. His son Jeff lives in Alaska, step-son Michael Caver resides in
Seattle, and daughter Eden (and two grandsons) live
in Corsicana.
East Texas News