Archive for the ‘Inside’ Category

SND Scholarship winner: Danielle Rindler

In Awards, Design, IDS, Inside on June 29, 2011 at 5:04 pm

A big congratulations to our very own Danielle Rindler for winning the Society for News Design Foundation 2011 Scholarship!

From the SND release:

A panel of five SND leaders selected Rindler for the $2,000 award based on her thoughtful answers to two essay questions, the quality of her portfolio, the breadth of her experience, her professor’s recommendation and her strong grade point average. Rindler was also selected as one of ten travel grant recipients from the SND Foundation.

Danielle was the art director of the IDS last spring and will be heading to Inside magazine this fall, where she’ll be writing and designing. This summer, she’s a Pulliam Fellow for design at The Arizona Republic. She has also given her talents to Indianapolis Monthly magazine and is charting new waters as the first president of the IU chapter of SND.

Danielle was a guiding force in the IDS spring re-design and has helped lead the charge in incorporating more and more infographics in the printed product.

Danielle has done great work for the company, including on the 2011 Little 500 guide and many-a-section front.

2011 Little 500 guideAurora features frontPlus, on a rainy night in early May, Danielle churned out this gem of a P1 on deadline when breaking news hit.

Osama P1You can read her full bio, including a glowing review from Ron Johnson, on the SND website. To hire her or to see more of Danielle’s work, check out her online portfolio.


Hearst: Steps in her way

In Hearst, Inside on January 5, 2011 at 1:07 pm

I’m still posting old Hearst stories to get everyone pumped for world domination. Our next winning story comes from CJ Lotz. Last year she placed ninth in the In-Depth category for this story in Inside magazine.


Joannah Peterson pulls up to the curb in front of Goodbody Hall. A handicap tag hangs in her silver Honda Accord, but the reserved spaces are taken. She parks behind them illegally, along the curb. She’s already found six parking tickets tucked under her wiper this year, but she can argue her way out of another one.

This fall Friday morning, she’s running a little behind. She has office hours for an Asian history class and a few e-mails to send off.

She opens the car door, lifts out her wheelchair frame, attaches one wheel and then the next. After scooting herself onto the chair, she closes the car door and rolls up to the sloped entrance. She zig-zags along the ramp, lifting up her wheels slightly so she won’t get stuck in cracks. She reaches the big blue button with the image of a stick man in a wheelchair. Instead of pressing it, she opens the door herself and rolls inside.

The basement of Goodbody is stark white. It smells a little moldy. Sometimes Joannah calls it The Dungeon, sometimes The Belly of the Beast.

Inside, Joannah looks left. There’s a hallway and then a staircase. The East Asian Languages and Cultures department is on the second floor. There is no elevator. Thirty-five steps separate Joannah from her department.

She turns to the right and wheels silently down the hall and into room 003-6, the corner room that serves as her ground-level office.

Scour your clips. The deadline is coming up!

Hearst: Opinion Winner

In Awards, Hearst, Inside on December 29, 2010 at 2:04 pm

A huge congrats to Caitlin Johnston. She recently won first place for opinion writing in the Hearst Journalism Awards Program! Her essay, “The home front,” ran in Inside’s Identity Issue.

Caitlin Johnston (INSIDE)

Blake’s confidence reassures me. But sometimes my mind wanders, and I imagine ways I would react if he died. I see my mom showing up unexpectedly at my apartment. Sometimes I collapse like they do in the movies. Other times I’m silent, unable to comprehend what’s happening.

I know it’s morbid. Still, the scenes seep into my mind. It’s like my subconscious is trying to prepare me, as if the grief would be more manageable with a script to follow.

Being a journalist makes it worse. I know how the media would handle Blake’s death. Our local paper would run a memorial story: “Hometown hero dies in Afghanistan.” If it’s a slow news day, they might run his photo. Friends would share stories from Little League and lament his youth. And then the world would move on. Because soldiers die every day in the desert 7,000 miles away.

Inside: Identity Issue

In Inside on November 30, 2010 at 8:00 am

OK, I know I’m a little biased. I don’t care. I’m still going to post stuff from Inside’s Identity Issue. Feel free to comment on the issue.


The basement was where he found his voice. Three years ago, in Colorado, Andy Lunsford walked down the stairs. He put on a CD he’d bought on a whim years ago from Target, “Lifescapes: Opera.”

It was the only opera music he owned, and he thought it would be a soothing break from what was happening in his life.

He was declaring personal bankruptcy, and he had a long way to fall. The granite business he’d started was on track to sell $6 million in countertops that year. In slacks and a tie at 26, the young entrepreneur employed 40 people. Now, with the economy crashing, Andy watched his world collapse. He would lose his home, his cars, and his credit. The only things left were his wife and two young sons.

So he listened to opera in the basement he no longer owned.

He enjoyed musicals growing up, but the only opera he’d heard was on spaghetti commercials. When he put on the CD, it was a blur of Italian noise. He closed his eyes, then started humming. Then he sang. Sounds, not words.

I already posted Caitlin Johnston’s essay, but you can read it here.

Did anything else in the issue catch your eye?

The home front

In Inside on November 29, 2010 at 8:00 am

This essay will run in Inside’s Identity Issue (out tomorrow).


During his tours, I pretend Blake’s in an office doing paperwork. Or playing basketball with his unit behind the blast wall. I picture him doing anything other than his job.

It’s harder to pretend when he brings home medals. They don’t give gold stars or commendations for valor to the guy behind the desk.

I didn’t know the explanations for why he received such honors until I visited him last summer. There, stashed away in the corner of the guest bedroom, was tangible proof of his duties. I sat down on the bed, poring over the certificates: he’d conducted 55 combat missions, amassing 12,000 miles and escorting 1,300 vehicles and 10,000 personnel. And then I read what happened on May 3, 2007:

When a vehicle was destroyed by an improvised explosive device, First Lieutenant Johnston established security, coordinated a ground casualty evacuation for the wounded Marines, and requested explosive ordinance disposal and vehicle recovery support.

As I tried to grasp the reality of my brother’s job, he opened the door.

“What are ya doin, Sweets?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, now conscious of the tears streaming down my face.

He shrugged. “Come on, dinner’s done.”

The Shepherd’s Lamb

In Design, IDS, Inside on November 10, 2010 at 8:34 am


“Martha,” Jed calls, turning to his daughter. “Why don’t you talk some sense into these kids?”

She hears herself swallow.

She hates the sound. She hopes her voice is clear, steady. She approaches her peers slowly. She wishes someone would ask a question. “Wink if you need help,” one student hisses from the front row. “You can tell us if he’s hurting you or something.”

“He’s not hurting me,” she says. “I believe everything my dad is saying.”

She always has.

That’s the funny thing about truth, she says. You know it when you hear it, like you’ve always known it.

All screaming abates, as though students in the crowd realize something remarkable: Brother Jed is somebody’s father.

“OK, let’s not make fun of her,” another says. “Let’s just be real. Martha, do you play Halo?”

“Yes,” she giggles. “I do.”

“What’s your favorite weapon?”

“The gravity hammer,” she says.

“So you’re kind of normal?” one student asks.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Design awards

In Awards, Design, Inside on November 1, 2010 at 1:53 pm

Larry Buchanan won a bunch of ACP Design of the Year awards last week. Check out the designs.

Inside magazine Music Issue spread (Second Place, Yearbook/Magazine Page/Spread)


Inside magazine Music Issue cover (First place, Newsmagazine/Special Section Cover)








Little 500 Guide, Indiana Daily Student (Honorable Mention, Newsmagazine/Special Section Cover)

















Indiana Daily Student P1 (Honorable Mention, Newspaper Page One)

Charles Apple: Indiana Daily Student having fun with Halloween

In Design, IDS, Inside, Weekend on October 28, 2010 at 2:40 pm

Check out what Charles Apple had to say about the pumpkin and zombie pages in the IDS. Way to go IDS, Inside and Weekend!

Keating Feature Writing Competition

In Awards, IDS, Inside on October 27, 2010 at 9:50 am

Congratulations to our Keating Competition finalists: CJ Lotz, Rachel Stark, Caitlin Johnston, Sean Morrison, Biz Carson, Charles Scudder and Avi Zaleon! Here are some of the stories that helped them get to the finals. Happy reading!


She entered the world on a rainy morning in Bloomington and never stopped moving. She learned to ride a bike at age 5, drove a truck with a stick shift and danced in a red dress at prom.

She squeezed in bike trips between hanging out with friends and working at the Student Recreational Sports Center. She rode alone because no one could keep up with her.

On May 31, 2000, she ate a bowl of cereal in her kitchen, strapped on her shoes, hopped on her new bike and never came home.

Details of Jill’s life were batted around in court and discussed on television and in the paper. Her senior portrait smiled at the family everywhere. But the Behrmans aren’t missing a victim. They miss Jill.


Caitlin wrote this story during her summer internship at the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette.

Evan Welter wasn’t supposed to be at work at Markle Pool on Thursday. The 16-year-old lifeguard from Roanoke was scheduled to be off but switched shifts with a co-worker. So he put on his red shorts and took his spot on the lifeguard chair near the high jump for his first shift when the pool opened at 11:30.

Welter had been watching the waters on his first shift for 45 minutes when something caught his eye. One of the swimmers coming to shore from a raft about 20 yards away seemed to be having difficulty.

“Are you OK?” Welter called out from the high jump platform.

“Yes,” Lengacher replied.

And then he went under.


The crowd of bodies bumps up and down as the Night Owl A-bus navigates Jordan Avenue at 11:30 p.m.

Guys climb onto the side luggage racks while girls sit on top of each other to make more room. The mass of 100 bodies leaves everyone pressed up against each other with no space to do anything but move their mouths to sing.

The slightly slurred voices drown out The Beatles’ “Ticket to Ride.”

The only one left with enough freedom to turn his head, move his arms and press up and down on the pedals is campus bus driver Dan Goldblatt.

He’s not worried about not knowing all of the lyrics or spilling his drink like the crowd around him.

The only thing he’s thinking about in the chaos is safety: Get these kids to their next stop.


Charles wrote this story at the Dallas Morning News.

All Breanne Bullard of Frisco knows about her son is that he is sick.

When Elijah Bullard was born in April 2007, he suffered brain swelling, couldn’t move his arms or legs, and had trouble eating, an assortment of issues that left specialists at Children’s Hospital of Orange County in California running in circles.

“All these people were hovering around him wondering, ‘What … is going on with this kid?'” Bullard said. “The whole thing was that he was having all these problems across the board.”

Doctors at one point believed Elijah had Peters plus syndrome, a rare condition characterized by some of his symptoms. After blood tests proved inconclusive, that diagnosis was revoked.

“It’s frustrating because my kid has brain damage and hearing loss and seizures and how can you possibly tell me you don’t know why?” Bullard said. “I can list his 800 different symptoms, but I can’t tell you what he has.”


The high jumper stands at the top of the lane, motionless for 32 seconds.

He stares toward his nemesis, a bar balanced 2.17 meters above the track – a barrier he is determined to clear. His light blue eyes bore into it as he psyches himself up to run toward his lone obstacle here in Gladstein Fieldhouse, home of the IU track and field team. To him, the rest of the arena has fallen away. All that’s left is him and the bar.

“OK, this isn’t anything,” the young man silently tells himself. “I’m used to it. I’ve seen this height before. I can jump this.”

For the eternity of those 32 seconds, he focuses on one goal. To overcome. To ascend. To defy gravity.

The lane leading to the bar, roughly 15 yards away, is a runway. And Derek Drouin is ready to fly.


It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Somewhere in between eating vanilla cupcakes for his friend’s 12th birthday, playing Wii and roughhousing, Ethan Fleetwood decided to go for it.

“Ethan, you need a new girlfriend,” fellow sixth-grader Cale Snyder told him. Cale had been texting his own girlfriend all night.

Ethan, 12, had been single for two weeks. And after two weeks, it starts getting in your head, he said. That’s when you start wanting a girlfriend again.

So why not ask the girl he’d liked since first grade? She was single. He was single. Perfect.

Ethan, a brown-haired boy with wide eyes, owns a red LG Neon cell phone he keeps in his pocket. Its background is a photo he took of a toy iguana lying on a video game controller.

This night, though, his phone battery was dead. So he borrowed Cale’s, letting his crush know it was Ethan before typing: will u go out with me.

Then he hit send.


Following a promising freshman season, the remainder of Beckwith’s eligibility seemed to be with soccer. But her body would force her to do otherwise.

Pain in Beckwith’s left knee forced her to undergo patella surgery, her fourth surgery in four years — two were surgeries on both of her ACLs.

The work done on her legs would make Beckwith quit soccer forever. Her body would no longer allow her to make crisp cuts on the soccer field without risking permanent damage.

But the life-long athlete wouldn’t allow herself to stay on the sidelines.

Beckwith continued competing, but this time as a walk-on with freshman eligibility on the IU track-and-field team. The non-contact sport was a perfect fit, because her long-term health and welfare was the top priority.

The transition would not be easy

Why do these stories work? What can we learn from them?

Design: four fronts

In Design, IDS, Inside on October 26, 2010 at 9:02 am

One IDS. Four fronts. All beautiful.

Which one do you like best?