Remembering a journalist

Posted 2/19/20

He didn’t like to fly, but he traveled the world, missing the South always.

When he was in some country afar and by chance heard a Georgian’s accent, it pierced his heart.

He wrote a book …

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Remembering a journalist

Posted

He didn’t like to fly, but he traveled the world, missing the South always.
When he was in some country afar and by chance heard a Georgian’s accent, it pierced his heart.
He wrote a book that became a Southern classic: “Red Hills and Cotton: An Upcountry Memory.” His name is Ben Robertson, and he came into this world June 22, 1903, in Clemson, South Carolina.
The University of South Carolina Press published “Ben Robertson—South Carolina Journalist and Author” by Jodie Peeler, a journalism professor at Newberry College.
In her book, Peeler writes about Robertson’s “1942 hymn to his boyhood on his grandparent’s farm in the South Carolina upcountry, a tribute that doubtless resonated with Murrow’s roots in rural North Carolina.”
Peeler’s book reminds us that Ben Robertson was a great friend of legendary broadcast journalist Edward R. Murrow, a North Carolinian.
In 1940, Murrow was reporting for CBS when he befriended Robertson who was covering Britain’s wartime struggles for the New York newspaper, PM. “Together, they covered battles, faced danger, saw the horrors of war, and witnessed the invincible spirit of the British people.” Both men had left their hometowns to “see the world and do great things.” They viewed journalism in a similar way, each using small details to tell a much bigger story.
I remember seeing Edward R. Murrow on my parents’ small black-and-white TV. I was a boy, but even then I knew this was a man of magnitude. So was Ben Robertson, though his photographs reveal a boyish demeanor.
Boyish or not, Robertson had the courage to write a book, “Travelers’ Rest,” a fictionalized family story that ruffled some feathers with its scenes of sex and violence. It echoed the message found in his better-known “Red Hills and Cotton.” He wished the South to move on from its past.
Robertson also wrote “I Saw England,” his eyewitness account of the Battle of Britain.
Benjamin Franklin Robertson Jr. departed this world February 22, 1943 in Lisbon, Portugal. The day before, he had boarded a Pan Am Boeing 314 flying boat referred to as clipper, a tribute to the fast sailing ships. Eleanor Roosevelt christened this particular craft Yankee Clipper.
Just before landing, something went wrong. Yankee Clipper slammed into the Tagus River at 130 miles an hour. There were survivors, some of whom swam ashore, but Robertson was not among them. Nor was he among bodies found in the wreckage.
Early March. Bodies wash ashore on the Tagus. Not Robertson’s. Around March 13 a man’s body is found 30 miles from the crash site.
A heavy silver bracelet reveals it is Ben Robertson. Cause of death? Drowning. An intrepid journalist was no more. Edward R. Murrow wrote, “He is out of war and into peace.”
The Charleston Post and Courier reviewed Peeler’s book, saying a “thoughtful biography is what Ben Robertson deserved.” I agree.
I know that Robertson would be pleased. There’s much depth and breadth to this 224-page biography.

down south, remembering a journalist, tom poland, Ben Robertson, Jodie Peeler, Edward R. Murrow

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