No softball questions in this work

My first professional job lasted all of two weeks.

I was working for the junior college newspaper, The Ultimatum (now THAT’S a newspaper name), when a friend said he knew a guy who was starting a publication for softball.

We met at this guy’s house, about 20 of us, and he laid out his plan: A newspaper devoted to coverage of men’s and women’s softball leagues. Not pro stuff. Beer leagues.

---

He called it “Softball Stars.”

It was Metro Detroit, and I remember driving across Wayne County so sit in the bleachers and watch softball. It was my first professional gig and I was determined to nail it.

Two weeks in the newspaper folded, the publisher disappeared, and I never saw a penny for my trouble.

Welcome to the newspaper world.

I loved newspapering. After college I went onto the Pioneer in Big Rapids, Michigan, for five years, and then the Chronicle, where I spent 34 years as an editor and writer.

This month marks four years since my retirement from the newspaper business. Former Chronicle colleagues, particularly assignment editors, would be aghast to learn I transitioned directly into online journalism. I was that guy kicking and screaming at the dawn of the 21st century.

We have it so easy these days. Information available at a second’s notice. Newspapers didn’t work that way. TV didn’t constantly force-feed news on us at every moment of the day, so we relied on newspapers.

See, newspapering always held that time mystery. The time between my deadline and when the newspaper is held in your hands. I always wanted to shorten that time as much as possible.

Deadlines! I pushed the envelope when I could, particularly at night when we had a breaking story.

At the college newspaper, someone tacked to the wall: “Whoever said better late than never is DEAD!” I learned early in my career that editors didn’t take kindly to stories turned in late.

As a reporter, I always thought editors were whiny and dramatic. “You’re going to get that in by 6?” one would say to me, eyeing the clock that said 4:49. No problem!

See, there was always wiggle room. Yeah, the regular deadline may be 6 p.m. (or whatever it is these days). But then there was the REAL deadline at night for breaking stories, the one we pushed by the minute.

That was never truer than with the Gerry parking lot stories. Publisher Gerry Mulligan had an annoying habit of calling the editor on his way out of the Chronicle parking lot at 5:45 p.m., with something along the lines of, “You have that story about the school official fired for making fun of the superintendent, right?” Of course, we had no such thing. Gerry would get these tips earlier, forget about them, and then remember as he’s leaving for the day.

Three guesses who normally drew the Gerry parking lot short straw. They were the ultimate challenge. Getting these stories during working hours is one thing, but tracking down official types at night is a whole other animal. Here’s the thing, though: It was unacceptable to not have the Gerry parking lot story leading the next day’s newspaper, and I knew it.

So, I pushed that envelope. Worked the phones, all that stuff. Editors would ask for updates, and I’d ignore them. I’m telling ya…don’t interrupt a reporter on a late deadline. The good ones will snap your head off.

Today, nearly everything I write is posted immediately, or close to it. Five evenings a week, I post the next day’s blog and schedule it to appear on Facebook feeds at 6 a.m. I’m often still editing well into the night, tweaking a word here or there.

The only real print work I still do is my monthly column in Hometown Citrus, a true delight.  Even these columns make me nervous. I’ve become so accustomed to writing, editing, posting, and then moving on to the next day that the idea of letting a column sit unpublished for two weeks is uncomfortable.

But I really enjoy that part of my writing. Every month, I hear from someone who saw the column in Hometown Citrus. I’m happy to participate in a community-minded publication. And to keep my toe dipped into the print journalism pool.

Newspaper ink will always flow in my veins. I may have moved onto another medium, but the newspaper spirit — that of community and government watchdog — thrives.

Writing feeds my soul. Think I’ll keep doing it.

Have a tremendous Friday, friends.

Join the discussion on our Facebook page.

Support the blog by subscribing to JWC Inner Circle for 99 cents/month.

Individual donations are appreciated through Venmo, PayPal, or Patreon.