Weekend Edition Sunday

Conceived as a cross between a Sunday newspaper and CBS' Sunday Morning with Charles KuraltWeekend Edition Sunday features interviews with newsmakers, artists, scientists, politicians, musicians, writers, theologians and historians. The program has covered news events from Nelson Mandela's 1990 release from a South African prison to the capture of Saddam Hussein.

Weekend Edition Sunday debuted on January 18, 1987, with host Susan Stamberg. Two years later, Liane Hansen took over the host chair, a position she held for 22 years. In that time, Hansen interviewed movers and shakers in politics, science, business and the arts. Her reporting travels took her from the slums of Cairo to the iron mines of Michigan's Upper Peninsula; from the oyster beds on the bayou in Houma, La., to Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park; and from the kitchens of Colonial Williamsburg, Va., to the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. In the fall of 2011, NPR National Desk Reporter Audie Cornish began hosting the show.

Every week listeners tune in to hear a unique blend of news, features and the regularly scheduled puzzle segment with Puzzlemaster Will Shortz, the crossword puzzle editor of The New York Times.

Weekend Edition Sunday is heard on NPR Member stations across the United States and around the globe via NPR Worldwide. The conversation between the audience and the program staff continues throughout the social media world.

When Ashley Madison, the website that helps people cheat on their spouses was hacked, it got our data expert wondering about the statistics of infidelity. NPR's Rachel Martin speaks with Mona Chalabi.

Copyright 2015 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

Survivors of the sinking of the Indianapolis are taken to a hospital on Guam...
After delivering the atomic bomb for the U.S. attack on Hiroshima 70 years ago, the Indianapolis was torpedoed and sank. Its story has been all but forgotten, but 32 survivors are having a reunion.

Next week marks the 70th anniversary of one of the worst disasters in U.S. Naval history — and one of the worst shark attacks on record. But it's a story that many people don't know.

In the summer of 1945, World War II was almost over, but in the shadows of that moment comes a story of survival that changed lives forever.

If you're a movie fan, you may recognize this line from the 1975 blockbuster, Jaws: "Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, Chief. We was coming back from the island of Tinian to Leyte. Just delivered the bomb."

That's Robert Shaw's monologue about a wartime ship sinking and shark attacks. It's a story that World War II veteran Dick Thelen knows all too well.

"July 26, we delivered the bomb. And July 30, the ship was sank," Thelen says.

Thelen's living room is full of memorabilia from the 1945 sinking of the USS Indianapolis. The bomb he's referring to is the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima a week later. Thelen is 88 now, but in 1945 he was just an 18-year-old sailor.

After the bomb had been delivered, the Indianapolis headed to Guam to prepare for the upcoming invasion of Japan. The date was July 30.

"It's evening. It's hot," says Doug Stanton, author of In Harm's Way, which details the survivors' experiences. "Nearly 1,200 young men are asleep on this cruiser, which is about two football fields long."

A Japanese submarine surfaced not far away, saw the silhouette of the ship on the horizon and began tracking it.

Torpedoes were fired and the ship sank in just 12 minutes.

"Everybody asked me, 'Where was you when you jumped off the ship?' I didn't jump off the ship, the ship left me," Thelen says with a laugh.

There hadn't been time to get enough life boats into the water, so the survivors clung to life jackets, makeshift rafts and debris, thinking they'd be rescued within a few hours. But after two and a half days in the water, they realized help wasn't coming.

And then things got even worse. Hundreds of sharks had been feeding on those killed in the explosion. But now they turned their attention to the survivors. Thelen saw people get taken by the sharks.

"Years ago, I wouldn't be talking about it to you or anybody else. I wouldn't talk about it for years," Thelen says.

Meanwhile, the Indianapolis' mission had fallen through the cracks of wartime secrecy, and the Navy didn't realize the ship was missing. Five days had passed when a pilot named Chuck Gwinn happened to be flying over open water.

"Chuck looked down at the exact same time they were flying over an oil slick." Thelen says. "Now if he'd looked any other way or wouldn't have flew that direction, he wouldn't have seen us. None of us would have survived."

About 900 men survived the torpedo attack after the ship sank. By the time of the rescue only 321 survivors were pulled from the water.

A few days later, on Aug. 6, the first atomic bomb hit an enemy target, and soon after, World War II was over. Thelen came home to Lansing, Mich., got a job driving a truck, got married and raised a family. But he rarely talked about his ordeal. Most of the men didn't, until the story entered pop culture in 1975.

Some survivors actually went to see Jaws together and began talking about their experience publicly for the first time. But not Thelen.

"I did not go see the movie. That and Titanic. Didn't go see that either. I see one ship sink, I don't want to see another one," he says.

Thelen has stayed in touch with many of his fellow survivors by attending reunions each year. This year's is taking place in Indianapolis this weekend.

Copyright 2015 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

Wall graffiti at Facebook headquarters in Menlo Park, Calif. The company rel...
As the big tech firms grapple with a lack of diversity, three women of color who work in the industry talk about the challenges of expanding staff demographics.

Silicon Valley is a place that operates on data — hard facts and numbers.

Last month, the tech giant Facebook released a report on diversity among its workers — and the numbers weren't good.

The company reported that nearly 70 percent of its employees are men; 57 percent are white; Hispanics represent just 4 percent. Black employees comprised just 2 percent of their workforce.

Facebook is hardly the only Silicon Valley firm struggling to diversify. Diversity reports from Google, Yahoo, LinkedIn and others show a tech industry with demographics that are out of whack with the nation and tech consumers.

It's a serious problem that tech companies are now paying attention to in a more public way.

This week on For the Record: Fixing the sameness of Silicon Valley. We speak with a tech worker who left her job at a major Silicon Valley firm because she found it inhospitable to women of color, and with two other women who are trying to fix the diversity problem from different angles.

Angelica Coleman, development relations manager on the platform marketing team at Zendesk

Coleman grew up outside Boston, and after college a lot of her friends started working as software engineers. They told her what a cool industry it was, and that was it: She wanted a career in tech.

Coleman got a job at a small tech firm in Boston and shortly thereafter it was bought by file-hosting giant Dropbox. Coleman moved to the Bay Area to work at headquarters as an administrative assistant. Immediately, she felt out of step with the place.

She estimates that only 12 out of Dropbox's 1,200-plus employees were black. That meant that when she went to lunch with her white co-workers, she felt out of place.

"Most of the conversations were around, like, white beauty products," Coleman says. "I have no idea what those are like. Tanning solutions — no idea what that's like. Their family vacation houses in Palm Springs — no idea what that's like. Never once asked me, 'Hey, Angie, what did you do this weekend?' "

Her bosses started to notice.

"The head admin would sit me down and say, 'I don't think you are engaging enough with the team. Some of the team members feel like you're not trying hard enough to be friends with them,' " she says. "It was actually almost the opposite."

Professionally, Coleman thought she was doing well. But when she told the higher-ups she wanted to break out of her admin role and move up, she says she was told she'd have to go somewhere else.

She can't say for sure it was because of her race, but she watched as her white peers moved up. As a black woman, she didn't have anyone to turn to in order to sort out what felt like unfair treatment.

"People, especially white people, do not like talking about race," she says. "It's uncomfortable for everyone. Luckily, if you are white, you get to avoid talking about race as much as you want, because you don't have to. But as someone who is minority, race is an everyday part of their life. Not having a single person inside of a company to ever express any of those feelings, pain, questions, anything, it's extremely difficult."

Laura Gomez, CEO and founder of Atypica, a recruiting software company

Gomez thinks about these issues every day. She was an early employee at Twitter, and now she runs a company whose sole mission is to fix the diversity problem in Silicon Valley.

Gomez says the whole industry felt impenetrable to her.

"I hated that no one looked like me," she says.

Now tech companies are making their workforce demographics public and hiring diversity managers. Gomez says those positions must have support to be effective.

For instance, "Are you giving the diversity head a budget?" she says. "Are they working within all organizations, not only recruiting? Do they have the leverage to make sure that they are making the changes that need to be made?"

Maxine Williams, director of diversity for Facebook

Williams believes that her bosses are invested in change. But since she joined the company in 2013, Facebook's diversity numbers have barely budged.

The biggest obstacle, she says, is the "pipeline" problem — the argument that not enough diverse candidates are qualified for the jobs.

"Something like 4.5 percent of people graduating with computer science degrees are black," Waters says.

Gomez fundamentally disagrees.

"It is not a pipeline issue whatsoever," she says.

The responsibility for finding diverse candidates lies with the companies, she says — especially with recruiters, who are guilty of hiring people who look just like they do and come from the same places.

"One person will refer the person that they went to school with, and that school happens to be Stanford," Gomez says. "And then that person happens to refer another person that happens to go to the same school."

However, both Gomez and Williams agree on this: It's no use making an effort to recruit a diverse workforce without the culture to support them.

"I don't want people to feel that we have to be a place that uses 'blind' as a suffix," Williams says. "Where you have to say, I'm color-blind or I'm gender-blind or I'm sexual orientation-blind, in order to see people as your colleagues, in order to feel like you're being polite. I want you to see these things as assets."

All three say change is hard, but not impossible. Williams says the biggest roadblock is sensitivity.

"We've done a lot of work to get people to understand it's OK to be vulnerable," she says. "To say what you don't know; to with good intent seek to understand the life of the other. So I think because people are sensitive to being considered exclusive or racist or sexist it stops them from opening up to a place where they can learn and do better."

Coleman is happy at her job at Zendesk, a software development firm in San Francisco, a firm she landed at after leaving Dropbox.

"It took a while to build my confidence back up and remind myself that no, you are a badass. You do so much. You are amazing," she says.

We reached out to Dropbox but they didn't respond to our request for comment about Angelica Coleman's story but they did release a statement earlier this month and in it they said "diversity is a critical issue for the company." And they're sad to hear a former employee feels otherwise. They do not think her account is an accurate reflection of the company culture.

Copyright 2015 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.