Journalist Karanja Ajanaku, a former editor of The New Tri-State Defender and the first Black reporter to cover city hall for The Commercial Appeal, died on July 8, from liver cancer. Here, one of the many journalists he mentored shares an open letter, in memory.
“Hey Monty! Got something for you.”
That’s what you (Dr. K) would always call me. Although my name is pronounced Mon-TAY. Usually people mispronouncing my name would tick me off something serious. But you calling me Monty, I was ok with — only because I anticipated what words would follow.
Black Memphis knows about The New Tri-State Defender. The publication is not as old as The Commercial Appeal but just as influential — especially with men like you, Bernal Smith II and Jerome Wright behind the paper. Who knew how it would shape me and others who just needed a chance to show our chops?
Get more stories like this in your inbox every Wednesday in The Weekly.
Subscribe to MLK50’s newsletter
and get Memphis-rooted news and insights
right-sized for your neighborhood.
Who would’ve thought it would start in 2016 when Bernal introduced this young television producer, who at the time was producing morning newscasts for ABC 24, to you? You were very eager to put me to work, making me a local government reporter, bringing a needed Black presence to that coverage. I’d never done that before, you know, consider how to cater to a Black audience. TV audiences in Memphis tend to skew toward more affluent, white and suburban viewers. Check the data.
Doing that multiple times a week, at $75 an article, was taxing at times. I’d leave the news station around 8 a.m., having been there since 11 p.m., and immediately get to work following agendas, city council members, county commissioners and other officials you tasked me to cover.
I knew I could write, or at least I thought I knew. Your strike-throughs and comments used to hit me in the heart hard. The edits you made often had me questioning if I’m doing this writing thing right. Corrections were calm, yet firm. I never wanted to feel like I was disappointing you.
My role later expanded to cover Downtown Memphis, becoming the beat reporter by making connections with the amazing Lucille Catron and the late Ken Taylor. It was rewarding covering the back and forth over hot takes around the development of what should be the heart of the city, this Black city that needed to understand the importance of that area.
Your trust in me really grew as my role expanded again when you added social justice to my beat. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was a teaching moment for me every time as I gained new perspectives about injustices seen in Memphis and Shelby County and broke me from my TV mold.
Dr. K, your belief in my aptitude as a journalist grew after nominating me for an award with my Positive While POZitive series, which highlighted the lives of Memphians living with HIV/AIDS. I later revealed my personal motivations for the project to you, as you were one of the first people I confided in about my own HIV status.
You brought me into your office, closed the door and told me you were so proud of me. This was a form of storytelling you hadn’t seen before, and you saw this becoming so much more — even adding it as a tab to the website. That’s how I knew I — we — were really locked in.
You know, I won an award from the National Association of Black Journalists for our exclusive coverage of the incarceration and release of Alice Johnson, who’d been in prison since the late ’90s over drug charges, from federal prison following a pardon from President Donald Trump and encouragement from Kim Kardashian. Wow!
My favorite triumph came when we worked into the midnight hour to cover the removal of the Nathan Bedford Forrest statue from Health Sciences Park in 2017. I was at council all day awaiting that decision. You were calling me every couple of minutes.
“What did Martavious say? What did Berlin say?” Asking me to get any and everyone to talk about the giant middle finger move to the state of Tennessee, both of us were shocked by how fast the city was poised to remove it. My partner photographer, Jonathan (known as Malik The Martian), was already in place to capture the moment the statue was uprooted and placed in storage, which impressed you even more.
It was hard labor doing TV news and freelance print work — and I wouldn’t take any of it back. And it was all thanks to you, Dr. K.
Memphis legacy media tends to favor the powerful, and we’ve gotten away from the people, which journalism should truly serve. In my new role as a news manager, I’d like to think I’m remembering those lessons from you.
From Bernal.
From Jerome.
All three of you amazing men are now with the ancestors. So now, we’re posed with a challenge and a new era to continue the mission and purpose of the TSD — and that’s to keep local Black journalism alive.
Thank you, Dr. K.
With love, Monty.
Lopez is president of the Memphis Association of Black Journalists and executive producer at WMC Action News 5
This story is brought to you byMLK50: Justice Through Journalism, a nonprofit newsroom focused on poverty, power and policy in Memphis. Support independent journalism by making a tax-deductible donation today. MLK50 is also supported by these generous donors.