Emil Dansker Award for Outstanding Achievement in Journalism

Duane Pohlman
Chief Investigative Reporter/Anchor, WKRC-TV
National Investigative Correspondent, Spotlight on America, SBG

I have written countless narratives and descriptions of entries for

journalism awards across the country and have been fortunate to win many of
them, but I can truly say this entry is a bit daunting, since this is for an award I
would consider one of the most important honors of my career.
You see, the namesake for this award isn’t some distant hero of journalism.
Dr. Emil Dansker was my teacher, mentor, and lifelong friend. And even though
he has passed away, he remains my North Star as a journalist.
Let me take you back to 1982. I had just left my small, hometown in
Northwest Ohio, arriving as a broadcast journalism student at Bowling Green
State University. I was naïve but energetic, full dreams of finding fame in
television.
Then I met Dr. Dansker.
At first, I felt we had nothing in common. He was from the “old” print
world, still working as a copy editor at the Toledo Blade and teaching classes that
didn’t seem to matter to me and my tv dreams. Undaunted, Dr. Dansker took me
under his wing.
I’m not sure how he saw the journalist inside of me. But he did. And he
changed my life forever, in more ways than simply guiding me as a journalist.
Dr. Dansker began inviting me to join him in his office. It was a messy
place, full of piles of papers and documents that formed leaning towers around
him. Here, Dr. Dansker would hold class without convention.
He would reach up and slide a switch on a model plane that hung over his
desk and smile widely as it flew, tethered to a string with a banner behind it
reading, “Accuracy! Accuracy! Accuracy!”
 Then came countless stories of his reporting days, of hard work of getting
records, of pursuing the truth, and taking a call no matter how late it came.
But sayings sprinkled within these stories were the priceless nuggets.
“Journalists give a damn,” he would often say, adding, “If you don’t care, you’re
not doing your job.” Or when I would write an article that he thought worthy, he
would belt out, “That’s how you do it!”
One was my favorite.
“Nothing escapes our attention so much as the obvious,” he told me
repeatedly, as I toiled to find the focus of my story. I still hear Dr. Dansker’s voice
reminding me of that simple phrase as I wrestle with the focus of investigative
projects to this day.
As much as Dr. Dansker forged me in the fire of journalism, he immersed
me in the broader meaning of life.
As I progressed through classes, Dr. Dansker began to invite me to his
home, where we would listen to NPR on an old radio, or a symphony playing
Rachmaninoff on an old vinyl album. We would drink lemonade and discuss
philosophy or the similarities of Christianity and of Judaism. He and I would laugh
at the latest recording from the “Capitol Steps,” the group that mocked politics in
music. (Dr. Dansker continued to send me tapes long after I graduated.)
He knew I yearned for the world and he was showing it to me. He was
preparing me for a life-long journey.
He called me his “kid and I liked that. Later, I learned there are dozens of
Dr. Dansker’s “kids” spread out across the country and around the world.
When I was about to graduate, Dr. Dansker decided to begin teaching at
Central State, a historically black University, that had long been underfunded and
ignored. He asked me to join him and consider helping him set up the new
studios and program there.
I had an incredible time riding with him in his car and visiting the campus,
He explained that journalism is meant for all students and that it was important
to include everyone’s voice. He always knew what to say.
 Dr. Dansker began his new role. I didn’t. I politely turned down the
opportunity to move into academia and – with Dr. Dansker’s blessing - went
straight into television.
Over the years, we would talk countless times. One of those years (I can’t
remember when), Dr. Dansker insisted I call him, Emil.
As I started to reach higher and began earning accolades, Emil would call to
congratulate me, or send notes with articles about me and my stories. He told
me he was proud of me, too. Soon he began to gently remind me of my “other”
duty as a journalist. He wanted me to give back some of my time and volunteer
to help other journalists.
Despite my hectic schedule, I decided to step up and act on Dr. Dansker’s
advice. I began participating in journalism seminars and panel discussions,
eventually leading many of the gatherings. I also began guest lecturing at
journalism programs and schools at a variety of universities, which I continue to
do to this day.
In 1999, I ran for a position on the board of directors for Investigative
Reporters and Editors (IRE). I won, which was no small feat 24 years ago. Back
then, IRE was full of newspaper reporters and editors who had a less-than
flattering view of television reporters. But I think they saw some of Emil in me
and decided I was acceptable, even though I was tv guy. I would go on to serve
seven years, becoming IRE’s vice president, which I’m proud of to this day.
While continuing to work hard and achieve as a journalist, I’ve continued to
embrace Emil’s spirit of volunteerism, both nationally, regionally and locally.
I co-founded and am the current president of the non-profit, Ohio Center
for Journalism and its award-winning news outlet, “Eye on Ohio.”
Recently, I was named as chair of the Journalism Program Advisory Board at
BGSU, the school that is forever tied to dreams and unforgettable memories of
Dr. Emil Dansker. I am now helping BGSU reinvent a program that had been in
decline for many years after Emil left.
 Finally – in a moment where life imitates the storyline – I was called to join
Emil as a member of the board of directors of the Greater Cincinnati Pro Chapter
of the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ), a chapter Emil co-founded in 1967.
Unfortunately, I served with my mentor and friend for only a short time
before he died.
I joined Emil’s family, members of board, former students, and friends at
Arlington National Cemetery in the Summer of 2021, where Sgt. Emil Dansker,
who served as a decorated member of the Marine Corps, was interred with full
military honors.
As I picked up a handful of sand from Jerusalem to deposit near Emil’s
remains, I was struck by obvious grief and by the thought that I would now be
alone on the journey Dr. Dansker had pointed me toward so long ago.
As we gathered after the ceremony in the atrium of the hotel, I led a group
in telling stories about Emil and reminiscing about a man who was larger-than-life
to so many.
It was then that I realized that Emil’s death was far from the end. I looked
around and clearly saw every single person in that room was carrying this great
man deep inside them. And they were there because Emil gave a damn!
I hope you now understand why I consider this among the highest honors I
could achieve. It carries the name and spirit of my teacher, mentor, and friend:
Dr. Emil Dansker.
I truly hope he – and you – believe I am living up to his great name.

• My resume and bio are uploaded and submitted separately in this entry.
• I am including a series of reports from one of my most recent
investigations, “Fallout from Russia,” in which I proved plutonium was
included in radioactive shipments from Russia to a Cold War plant in
Southern Ohio now connected to contamination, cancer and death in the
surrounding communities.
You can view it here: https://youtu.be/yH17VigrhF4