Behind the News: Voices from Goas Press | Page 2

went out.
This unusual work is humbly devoted to those who are not, or cannot,
be with us, as we go down the corridors of time and look at the past
decades. Journalists whom Goa has produced, but perhaps were never
adequately recognised over the years. Like the innovative Ivan Fera,
who died young along with the promise of immense talent and many
bylines in journals like The Illustrated Weekly. Or, Norman Dantas,
who's early death was at least in part triggered off by despair brought
on by the unfair deal he got from journalism in Goa. We need to also
remember the many who are not here with us, pushed out -- both by
limited opportunities, as also politics in the press -- to migrate far and
wide and earn a living on distant shores. To all of them, and the unsung
heroes of journalism of the post-Liberation era, this e-book is devoted.

Chapter 1
: Sixties' stories: Free Goa's first elections
By Ben AntaoBesides his stint referred to in this chapter, Benedito
Martinho Herculano Antao (b, 1935) worked for the Indian Express in
Bombay (1965-66). He then won a journalism award from the World
Press Institute, moved to the US for a year's study, work and travel.

Later, he spent 10 weeks at the Denver Post (1967), worked for a
Catholic weekly in Toronto, and was a copy editor in the mid-seventies
at a major Toronto daily. He also taught high school English, drama
and religion for 22 years, before retiring in 1998, and qualified as a
certified financial planner in 1988. Currently, he is involved in fiction
writing, for which purpose he sees journalism as a "great training
ground".
There is a truism in journalism that goes like this: facts are sacred;
comment is free.
When I first read it in one of the books on journalism that I borrowed
from the USIS library in Bombay in the late 'fifties, I was filled with
such fervor as to consider the vocation in journalism that I was
contemplating on, at the time, akin to the priesthood. The concept of
'freedom of the press' particularly attracted and engaged my young
mind, burning with idealism to bring about genuine equality in Indian
society and to see us as a truly "honorable people" as the Prime
Minister Jawaharlal Nehru had said we were.
In other words, journalism would offer me a platform to make a
difference.
After a season of doing freelance sports reporting for The Indian
Express in the city now called Mumbai, I felt much like a lover. One
who is not content with merely kissing but wants to explore the whole
body. And as a follower of another truism, namely, he who seeks finds
the way, lucky circumstance fell into my lap and I found myself doing
freelance work for the Goan Tribune, a fortnightly published in
Bombay to espouse the cause of Goa's political freedom from the
Portuguese rule.
Here I got the opportunity not only to write about sports, but also to do
general news reporting and profiles of prominent Goans. In little over a
year, though, my budding love affair discovered a flaw in my inamorata
-- the lady fancied the use of hyperbole and propaganda as legitimate
means to promote herself. My idealism received a jolt of reality when
Lambert Mascarenhas, editor of the periodical then, engaged in
propagandist campaigning, suggesting that such slanted writing was
necessary to achieve the end. However, my burning desire to express
myself in writing overruled my squeamishness.
After the Liberation of Goa in 1961, Lambert went to Goa and became

joint editor of a new English-language daily, The Navhind Times,
owned and published by the Dempo Brothers, who had become
wealthy in the mining business. My fascination for the mistress of
journalism remained still intact, not to mention the hidden agenda of
my wanting to change the world.
So I went to Goa and joined the paper in June 1963.
Considering myself as a protege of Lambert, I enjoyed a special status
at the paper, doing both reporting and sub-editing. It didn't take me
long, though, to notice that Vassantrao Dempo, the elder brother, was
keenly interested in the image of his newspaper and its editorials. He
had hired two editors, a Catholic and a Hindu named T. V. Parvate
from Maharashtra, ostensibly to give balance to the paper's news and
views. Often at around 5:30 p.m., I would see Mr. Dempo carefully
perusing the editorial that Lambert or Parvate had written before it
came to the newsroom. The editors wrote on alternate days. I would
know, for example, that Dempo had suggested a change in how a
certain point of view was expressed in Lambert's editorial because
Lambert often invited me to sit across his desk while he