The rule was the same for Alan,
Emily and Eric. When their noses inched above the mailroom’s table—so they
could see what they were doing—they went to work. That meant by age 8, they got
ink into their veins through their fingertips by inserting sections of The Press-Sentinel.
When
Eric heard me tell that story, he countered, “Remember? I couldn’t wait until I
was 8. When I was 7, you got a Coca-Cola crate for me to stand on.” He’s right.
And 33 years later for him and 38 years later for Alan, they’re still doing
what the three of us love—publishing newspapers. Emily could be with us, too,
but she was called to be a schoolteacher and mother of four boys, ages 5-15.
My
first touch of ink came as a 10-year-old in 1958. When Orange Street Elementary
School’s 3-o’clock bell rang, I’d jump on my bike and race toward South East
Broad Street. After bumping across the railroad tracks, I wheeled left to The Jesup Sentinel’s back door.
When Bryan
Kirby sold me a stack of the weekly edition, I pumped my Schwinn to the Sea
Island Shirt Factory on Cherry Street. As the ladies left work, I turned my
nickels into dimes before the ink dried on that edition of my hometown’s news. In
1971—after UGA and a brief stint in the Army—I started my adult career at the Wayne County Press.
Forty-eight
years later, the ink still flows through my veins.
Times have
changed, but not my passion for a
community newspaper’s role.
I smile when
Alan steps on his soapbox: “We’re not the ‘media.’ We’re your hometown
newspaper. We live here. We work here. We vote here. We pay taxes here. We go
to church here. We volunteer here. We are devoted to this community. The state and national ‘media’ doesn’t do the
things we do. And our door is always open. Try sitting down and talking with
those ‘media’ people. We are your hometown newspaper. We are your best source
of reliable information. We are your cheerleader, and we’re your watchdog. In most towns, we’re probably the oldest,
continually operated business.”
Alan is right. We
don’t just show up to cover sensational stories. We’re here 365 days a year. We
care about your children and the sweet potato that you plucked from your
garden, the one that resembles comedian Bob Hope and his ski-jump nose. We care
about the city-hall and courthouse sausage works. Why are your taxes going up? And
if your government is operating behind closed doors, we want to beam sunshine
into those dark corners.
Research
documents prove that local governments pay higher bond rates when there is no
local newspaper holding leadership accountable. Devoted men and women do the
heavy lifting of making local governments function properly. Your newspaper’s
job is holding up a mirror to reflect the good and bad of what’s happening.
There’s a lot
of yip-yap about “fake news” in the “media.” Alan is right. We aren’t “the
media.” We are your hometown newspaper. Just as you do, we despise fake news. If
we get our facts wrong, we are eager to make corrections. We encourage you to
hold officials and us to a high
standard of credibility. News is separate from editorial-page opinions. We
aren’t bashful about “pumping iron” with our ink, speaking up on issues. We
covet your opinions, too. Write us a letter.
We treasure
your support and trust.
And our
business is for you to know.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
