Senior Column — Alex Dinyer

Waking into the J-room was nerve-wracking for me. Journalism was never something I saw myself doing. But I was welcomed with open arms to a time-honored group known only as the Harbie boys — a legendary brotherhood I would soon become a part of.  

Who exactly are the Harbie boys? Males who happen to be on Harbinger? An exclusive country club? A cult? I came to learn it’s much more than a label. Read further for the most valuable information from these boys.  

When I first joined, then-head video editor Dalton Reck recognized a new Harbie boy in need and taught me video production. I learned the basics of Adobe Premiere from his video on Tereré club — a masterpiece full of high-saturation effects, audio distortion and heavy use of radial blur. The skills Dalton taught me in Premiere would prove to be handy as I later produced the video aspect of group projects, especially marketing commercials. 

Ty Browning, a legendary photo editor, taught me to put my body on the line for the sake of authentic journalism. One day at a golf practice, Ty laid down six feet in front of the tee box, completely in harm’s way as my teammates and I hit the ball straight over him. The images he captured were full of wild facial expressions and unique positions from each golfer. He risked getting hit by a golf ball going over a hundred miles an hour just for these photos. From that moment on, I knew the best way to capture authentic shots was to take risks like Ty did that day.             

Ben Henschel, el patron, online editor in-chief, taught me how to consume ungodly amounts of coffee in a twenty-four hour period. But more importantly he taught me that no amount of success comes without hard work. He spent every night deep in a pile of work he deemed worth sacrificing his sleep for.  On Countless mornings where I’d wake up to “Snapchat from Ben Henschel” with a 4:01 a.m. timestamp. Ben was the one who introduced me to Harbinger, recognizing my work ethic and desire to get involved. Whether it was an all-nighter for our DECA project or cramming an extra hour to prep for a test, he’s pushed me to always go full steam ahead both in and out of the J-room.      

I still remember making my first announcement as head broadcast editor in front of staff. I timidly said, “Hey guys, so we have a broadcast tonight,” and after a moment of silence, Tate said, “yeah, we’re gonna need more than that, chief.”

I froze in embarrassment and wished I had never applied for a head position. But then, I realized I was learning the importance of confidence in public speaking. This is one of the many times Tate — leader of the harbie boys — imparted the value of marketing yourself, which is greatly impactful as I venture out of East. 

Some of the more seemingly-insignificant moments in Harbinger ended up teaching me more than I could’ve imagined. I’ve come to see that all the Harbie boys are not just brothers, but bros helping bros soar to new heights.