I
n the early years of my country editor career, I encountered some “help” situations that just about made me cry or tear all my hair out.
True journalists, particularly those who choose to work at small town newspapers, are there because they love this business, or at least most are. There are some who are at the “little” papers because they don’t have enough experience to get a job with a large paper with frequent shots at major headline stories.
As someone thrust into the publisher-editor slot at a small weekly newspaper at a very young age, I learned quickly that I should have taken some business management courses, particularly with regard to interviewing job candidates. Oh, well, nothing like on-the-job training through the trial-and-error method.
Even skilled personnel managers can make a mistake and hire the wrong person.
My experience was gained in hiring a great many doofusses — the aforementioned trial and error method. That’ll test your commitment to the newspaper business in a hurry and in many different ways. Oh, well, at least it’s given me a few war stories with which to regale unsuspecting visitors.
In the rural counties, where I gained my experience, one of the most important events every year is the county fair. That usually produces lots of photos and numerous stories. Your joy at having so much is often reduced to disappointment or worse, particularly if the “important” photos are missed and you know your two competitors are going to have them. This was the case for me in Rosenberg in the mid-1960s.
That was about as competitive a situation as I have ever encountered. But, as a 25-year-old whippersnapper, shucks, I figured ‘we can lick these guys.’ So, they’re older, more experienced and better financed and equipped. No hill for a stepper.
It was county fair time and as everyone knows, that’s perhaps the biggest story of the year. That’s “story” as in multiple stories and tons of pictures, a major undertaking. County fair coverage will pretty well fill up that week’s edition.
I had spent the better part of my day covering a lot of fair events and had set things up for the new editor to have a prime assignment in shooting the queen’s contest that evening. I figured that would inspire him.
And, I informed a couple of key people involved in the pageant that my editor would be doing the honors that evening.
Imagine my great shock when about 15 minutes before the pageant, one of my friends called and said, “Are you or your editor going to cover the queen’s pageant?”
I told them the editor was supposed to be there but I decided I’d better check for myself. I knew where he lived, so I made a beeline for his house as soon as I cradled the phone.
I knocked politely and gave it five seconds before grabbing the door knob and blowing into the house and straight to the bedroom where, sure enough, there lay a sleeping editor. The noise of my entry awakened him and he rolled over on his elbow and peered at me through sleep-glazed eyes as I roared, “Why aren’t you covering the queen’s contest?”
“Well, uh, I was pretty tired and thought I’d catch a nap before going,” he mumbled through sleep-numbed lips.
“You can keep on sleeping right into the unemployment line!” I yelled loud enough to wake the dead.
I whirled and high-tailed it to the fairgrounds a couple of blocks away and shot the queen’s pageant myself.
The editor showed up at the office the next morning as the locksmith was changing all the locks and wanted to know about his “severance pay.”
“You’re lucky I don’t sever your head,” I said in a voice not quite at yelling level. “You’re terminated for cause – disobeying orders and failing to do an assigned task – so you get no severance. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind about taking off your head.!”
Yeah, I was young and fiery-tempered.
Age takes care of lots of things though. I wouldn’t yell now.
This will be the last column by Willis Webb, a retired community newspaper editor-publisher with more than 50 years experience. He died July 18 at the age of 79.
wwebb1937@att.net
