Emotions mix with goodbye to first newspaper, daughters

Nearly 30 years have flown and fluttered away like November leaves in an aimless incoming winter wind. But there it was; a transition escalating me from the first leg of my journey as a reporter at the aggressive daily in southwestern Indiana, The Mount Vernon Democrat, to the tantalizing Mecca of Hoosier journalism of Indianapolis.

I had been offered a job at United Press International, which, at the time, had a solid reputation of fierce competitiveness against the Associated Press, yet in the not-so-distant future of financial fiasco. I took it any way, deciding it was just another way to punch the ticket.

For more than three years, I cut my teeth in virtually every capacity as a reporter, news editor, columnist, night-time editor (a constant friendly battle with anxious press guys) and the always looming deadline of getting the words into ink.

I had a great respect for the guy who had hired me, Bill Brooks, but he earlier had counseled me: I wouldn’t hire a writer who didn’t have the ambition to leave me.

So I did just that.

And then there came the most crucial confession to my daughters, Two young ladies who spent weekends with me and nudged me lovingly along after the divorce. It was bittersweet, all of it, to explain and prepare to experience. Here is the last thing I wrote, word for word:

"How far is it Daddy? Is Indianapolis bigger than Mount Vernon or Evansville? 

"Will we get to see you much? The two girls had more questions than an eager reporter.

“Well, it’s not that far. There’s a lot of things for us to see and do up there when your visit.

Kind of hard to explain the motivations to your 5-and-6-year old daughters, which somehow starts in your gut and sticks in your throat.

I am looking out the window at this numbing wind and snow and wondering what awaits me in that northern Indiana metropolis. Kind of scared. I am no longer awaiting reassignment as my former column title suggested. My restaurant friend Bruce tells me quite clearly I have been reassigned. This time by my own choice.

And it is with mixed emotions that I am leaving the Democrat – the place where I was given my first chance to sink my fangs into journalism. It’s a newspaper where I was afforded a great deal of freedom to write and pursue virtually any story or idea that bumped my way.

Along the way, I earned some unofficial titles:The Hard News Hitman, Muckraker, Troublemaker. Occasional Distorter of the Truth. A few have even called me fair and accurate. Yea, though I walk through the Valley of city council and county commissioner meetings, I shall fear no evil. For the First Amendment and our state’s shaky Open Door laws are with me.

Mount Vernon and Posey County – a small-time job? No way. The only thing common about this community is its uncommonness. The opportunities to be a reporter here are endless.

Murder trials in the morning and spelling bees at night. Politcking and Pineword Derbies always looming. Child molesters and new four-way stop signs being incarcerated and installed. Election recounts and story retractions.

“… but we won’t get to see the park again or go to the office and play on the VDTs any more… Will Scott get your desk? Why can’t you get a job in Evansville?

“There are lots of parks in Indy and maybe you will have more toys to play with. And Scott doesn’t want my desk, girls. His own is a religious shrine and people come from miles to admire his stack of stuff in awe!”

Indeed, Scott’s desk. He is our sports editor and his niche is far stranger than us reporters. I have spent more hours in the newsroom than I have in any apartments and never have seen anything like his mountainous collection of yellowed news clips, hamburger wrappings and books by Tom Wolfe and Rudyard Kipling.

People generally end up where they want to be. And here at the Democrat – more particularly our smoke-filled newsroom – we constitute a family of sorts.

Oh, and newsroom humor. An odd, hilarious way of looking at the world while we keep straight faces writing objective stories. It’s pretty much the way the cops look at the world. Sadly, a hard-bitten sense of humor and useful defense mechanism for those who day after dog-eat-day deal with violence, controversy, tragedy and overall goofiness – the very things that make you subscribe to our newspaper.

I will miss it all. And I will miss those experiences and people inside and outside the newsroom that made the Mount Vernon Democrat such a good place to begin wherever I am going. Thanks for taking me in and reading my words!

-30-

Is it that far away? Will we get to see you still? We love you! And Daddy loves his daughters.