20 Years.
Two decades.
For some reason, it doesn't seem that long.
It was this first week in May that I became editor of the Daily Times back in 1999. It's not like I was a new face at the paper. I had been here since 1982 (please, don't do the math. Yes, I'm that old). I served as associate editor, running the news desk for a decade before sliding into the editor's seat.
My reaction: I was scared to death.
The associate editor's job was made for me. In addition to running the news desk each night (yes, back when we actually had copy editors and a news desk), I also created the most valuable piece of real estate in Delaware County every night.
What? You didn't know I was in real estate. I only handle one small property, exactly one square foot to be exact.
Our front page.
No doubt those headlines and and front pages at times caused no shortage of angst for the men who sat in the editor's chair before me, Steve Lambert and Andy Reynolds.
Now it was my turn. Everything that went into the paper now fell under my responsibility.
Things have changed just a bit in 20 years.
We still do basically the same things - we just do them a lot faster and with a lot fewer people.
The challenge is still the same.
Think of the newspaper or our website as a mirror. Every day we hold up that mirror and try to reflect back what is happening in Delaware County.
If you're anything like me, when you wake in the morning, stumble into the bathroom, flip on the light and gaze into the mirror - Yikes! - you likely don't always like the reflection that is staring back at you.
Same thing goes for the newspaper.
That's why for the past 20 years I have had a perpetual knot in my stomach.
I know when a story is going to cause problems.
I know when it is going to cause heartache.
I know what people will react to.
What I did not know then that I do now is the convulsive change that would stand the newspaper business on its head.
I'm not exactly dabbling in trade secrets in telling you that these are challenging times for the newspaper industry.
Some would say dire. I would not argue with them.
The technology we swim in every day has fundamentally changed our jobs.
When I became editor 20 years ago, we had a pretty familiar routine built around more than a century of tradition. - our print edition.
Yes, there was a time - not really all that long ago - when we delivered the news once every day.
Once that print edition rolled off the presses (yes, we actually printed the newspaper right there in our building in Primos back then as well), our readers would not hear from us for 24 hours, when the next edition was printed.
Can you imagine such a quaint notion.
Two decades later, we deliver information as fast as you can blink your eyes.
We still do a print edition, but more and more of the job targets an online audience.
We Tweet, we post on Facebook, we interact with readers, who can now comment on every story that we post online. Take my word for it. That is not always a good thing.
Why do we do this? Easy. That's where our readers are - or where they will be.
Every time I speak to young people - high school and college kids - I always ask them when was the last time any of them actually held and read the print edition of the newspaper. Inevitably, nary a hand goes up.
Like so much of our society today, if it didn't happen on their phone, it didn't happen.
So we are now on their phone as well.
Constantly.
But there is a fundamental dilemma built into our business model. We also serve readers who have been loyal, dedicated customers for decades. They, kind of like the now gray-haired gentleman who sits in the editor's seat - love the print edition. They like holding it in their hands. They like the way you can fold, spindle and mutilate it, and it still comes back for more. And it still is sitting there on your doorstep every morning, assuring you the world has not gone awry overnight.
Our role remains the same.
How we go about it - and without question how we deliver it - has changed dramatically.
That and the other core change we continue to deal with - trying to perform that essential task with fewer and fewer people.
Still, it's the only job I've ever had, if you don't count my summers methodically taking pre-packaged cups of orange juice off a production line at a factory outside town. I don't recommend it with a paper cut on your fingers. We're talking about 8 hours of agony. That experience sold me on developing my writing skills. I'm still working on it.
I also waited tables at a slew or restaurants around Chester County. Ironically, newspaper people and restaurant people have a lot in common. We take things pretty much one night at a time, and we're often driving home when most of the world is driving to work.
But that also was a lifetime ago. I think the people who work in the business today are tamer than a few decades ago. We just don't have the time. We're too busy feeding the online beast. And it's always hungry.
Long gone are the days when we'd convene at the local watering hole after putting the next day's print edition to bed and waiting for it to roll off the press.
A few things about the job have not changed.
Our front page - what's on it - is still one of the most important decisions I make every day.
When I talk to young people, they always ask me what's the best thing about being a newspaper editor. It's a good questions. Luckily, I have a good answer. Very often these discussions take place in classrooms. So I go over to the blackboard (OK, I'm dating myself again, these days it's likely a whiteboard), pickup the eraser and inform my young charges that every day I get to go into my office and create something brand new from scratch.
Then I have a question for them. There is a follow-up question that should be asked: What's the worst part about being a newspaper editor? Good question. Luckily, I have a good answer. Every day I get to go into my office and create something brand new from scratch. There are no off days, there are no slow news days, there are no holidays.
Hell, these days, there's barely time to breathe before we start pushing the next story.
I can't think of anything else I'd rather do.
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