John Vidmar has become a lot of new things over the last few weeks-a public relations wizard, a news addict and a telephone hog, to name a few.
Vidmar, vice president of the Slovenian-American Council, is one of many local Slovenes, Croats and Serbs who have been working to energize their communities and sway public opinion since ethnic strife began tearing Yugoslavia apart last month.
He said he spends four to five hours each day, often while in his office at a marketing research firm, talking to politicians and other Slovenes, organizing events, or raising funds for mailings.
There are counterparts to Vidmar in the local Serbian and Croatian communities, working almost constantly to ensure that their point of view on the crisis is brought home to the American people and government officials.
”I`ve had persons tell me they`ve gone into work and not been able to concentrate at all,” said Mirko Dobrijevic, an administrator at the Holy Resurrection Serbian Orthodox Cathedral on the Northwest Side. ”They feel a need to go ahead and take some action.”
Dobrijevic has frequently been called on by the news media as a local Serbian source, doing two or three interviews each time there is a major development in Yugoslavia, where Croatia and Slovenia have declared independence over the bitter objections of Serbia, the dominant republic in the country.
”I found myself in a real dilemma because I was constantly being sought out by the media,” Dobrijevic said. Even when he is exhausted, he said, he will not turn down an invitation because of ”the risk of not having my point of view expressed.”
Dobrijevic said that his office radio is constantly tuned to the BBC news, as opposed to the easy-listening tapes he used to play.
Other people involved in the crisis have been going through similar experiences.
”Every night it is always the same: What is happening, how many did they kill, did the United States recognize Croatia?” Michael Primorac, president of the Croatian Democratic Union and a local businessman, said of his first thoughts upon arriving home from work.
”The thing that has affected my life is that we`ve been talking to politicians about getting resolutions passed by local and state legislators,” said Vidmar, who also attends two or three organizational meetings a week.
”So that means spending a lot of time on the telephone.”
An early struggle, Vidmar said, was getting people to understand the difference between Slovenes and Slovaks. ”Initially it was frustrating because we couldn`t get any attention,” he said. ”You just get real tired.” ”The fact is, we all spend more time now following the events,” said Vladimir Basich, a director at the Croatian Cultural Center of Chicago on the North Side. ”Personally, I try to spend time educating the media. You try to help where you can.”
Basich, who also runs an advertising firm, estimates that the crisis has taken two or three hours of his time each day since March.
Aside from educating others, local leaders have to keep their own people informed of events, both in Chicago and in Yugoslavia, where news reports can be sketchy and one-sided.
”We`re trying to act as a funnel back to them so they can see how things are showing up in the news here,” Vidmar said.
The process has been one of networking, said Anka Popovich, vice president of the St. Sava Serbian Cultural Club of Chicago, who led an angry anti-Croatian demonstration at the Daley Plaza Wednesday afternoon.
One person will get overwhelmed with a task, such as organizing a rally, and call others to help, Popovich said. Eventually, a large segment of the community is tied together, she explained.
”Hopefully, it`ll be a temporary thing, and we`ll go out of business in three months,” Vidmar said, referring to negotiations between the Yugoslav republics aimed at resolving the crisis by autumn.
