It’s time to type “-30-” — the journalistic shorthand for the end of a story — for my time here at the Parsons Sun.
While I’ve experienced only a limited stretch of Parsons and Labette County history, I have treasured memories of my time here.
I’ve worked with some of the best people over the years, from writers to photographers to editors and publishers, all of whom guided my career. The publishers started with Bruce Buchanan, then came Ann Charles, Peter Cook, Shanna Guiot, plus a couple of others in between. Jeff Funk and later Jim Cook offered unparalleled guidance from the editor’s desk. I remain friends with many of the reporters and photographers, especially the most recent group: Brian Holderman, Jamie Willey, Colleen Williamson, Sean Frye, Hailey Phillips. Friendships extend beyond the newsroom to production teams, pressmen, circulation, business and advertising.
I started here nearly four decades ago (a sweaty August Monday). As with most new reporters here, I had to dig into work quickly. One of my first big stories, the Friday of my first week here, was the beginning of the merger of the Katy Railroad with the Union Pacific. Back then, we had four to five reporters and two editors on the news side, plus a full time photographer. On Wednesday this week, only the sports editor and I darken the desks on the news side.
This didn’t happen because of something I said to my fellow staffers. It’s just the nature of the industry.
The life of most small town journalists is simple: Dig in and work. It’s rarely glitzy. It’s more about teasing a story out of a 2-hour city commission meeting, pursuing that person who did some interesting thing but doesn’t want to talk about it and following every lead you can. Some days are broken up with calls from angry parents who didn’t like their son’s or daughter’s criminal enterprises exposed on the pages of the Sun. Threats of lawsuits aren’t common, but they have happened. The interesting times were encounters with someone rolling up into your face or phoned threats to your physical well being unless you retract what you wrote. That always seemed silly, because to retract what I wrote would require me to write it again.
Workdays always brought something different, something new to learn, some horror to forget.
That’s the work I’ve lived, and that’s what I’m leaving behind. It’s time for someone else to burrow in. And it’s time for me to try something new.
Ernest Hemingway drove my interest in journalism, a memory that has come up frequently these days as the final hours of my time at the Parsons Sun ticked away. Say what you want about him as a person, he was my favorite author in high school and early college years, and I loved to read and reread the stories he wrote for the Kansas City Star and the Toronto Star, a training ground for a young, talented author.
Hemingway’s spare prose style called to me. I never had the dream of writing America’s great novel. But I wanted to write. Hemingway said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed,” I kept my blood, but I shed a tear or two or three.
Besides the above novelist’s forays into journalism and war correspondency, this industry has continually produced great writers and great reporters. I read works of Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein of the Washington Post, Donald Barlett and James Steele of the Philadelphia Inquirer and Mike McGraw of the Kansas City Star. Their investigations were inspiring.
But, back in Parsons, the everyday work at the Sun filled my hours and filled my heart. My love for the work made it easy to follow many storylines over the years, and it made it easier in recent years with a dwindling staff and budget to be the one-person news desk.
My driving force was to bring a variety of information to readers and cover as much ground as I could. That’s the hard work of showing up, day in and weekend out.
It takes a toll. I used to have hair, for example, as coworkers and family have told me over the decades. That’s a small price to pay, though I sometimes miss youthful curls.
Now I must say goodbye to this career and to the many people who shared stories, energy and friendship. I leave the Sun in good hands. Sean Frye remains on the sports desk and Hannah Emberton will take on my role. I wish them prosperous journeys.
To the readers of the Sun, thank you for allowing me to write for you over these years. It’s been a pleasure; it’s been tough, too. To the many sources in my career and subjects of stories, thank you for saying yes when I called for information, or yes when I took your photo and got your real name after you told me John Smith, or some derivative, when doing the former feature called Let’s Ask (person on the street question and answer). Thank you for calling to share concerns, to complain, to compliment. All of those calls were appreciated, and they meant that you read what we wrote. It meant that you cared, and you cared enough to call.
That, to me, is the ultimate compliment to this newspaper. Keep them coming.
Farewell. -30--
