Isn’t it amazing? How you might forget where you placed, say, your car keys just minutes ago but can vividly recall a single moment from decades ago?

Such an instance for me was actually a first professional moment for me: getting my first byline as a daily newspaper staff member. The name Bob Lewis would strike a memory for only the most avid of golf historians. He was the 1978 Ohio Open champion. I interviewed him at the Salem Golf Club in August that summer — having just been hired as a part-time sportswriter for the Morning Journal. Dang, my very first feature! A clip of that story is buried somewhere in a drawer at home.

That was two partial and four entire decades ago. 

That was countless bylines, games and events covered, photos taken and designed pages ago.  That was — I actually sort of figured it out — over 15,000 daily newspapers ago that I was involved with in some capacity. Not to mention countless assorted special sections. Way before that, carrying the Salem News as a paperboy for years as did my siblings. I must have been on to something at the ripe age of ten.

So, yes, there’s been a lot of printer’s ink smudges on my fingers.

Upon graduation from YSU — where I was involved with the university newspaper, “The Jambar” — I was hired as sports editor of the Salem News. Offered the job in the editor’s office that I would occupy years later.

The date was October 1, 1979. Another one of those unforgettable moments for me. I went on to serve as sports editor of the Salem News until late 1995. I was then appointed managing editor of the Salem News. In February 2019, I became executive editor of the three Columbiana County Newspapers: The Review, Morning Journal and Salem News. 

It has been an incredible ride. Typing on an old Royal clicketly-clack manual typewriter — with ribbon spools that you often had to re-spin with your fingers — to using sophisticated computer hardware. And, ahem, back then I admittedly was among naysayers proclaiming that I would never, ever have a need for a computer in the newsroom. Or for wanting to use a new-fangled creation called the Internet. No sir, not me.

I recall vividly the ticker-tape wire machines of United Press International and the Associated Press. Of learning how to process film and making prints in the dark room on the run and the incredible stress of football/basketball Friday nights: covering games, laying out pages, developing film, taking calls and designing pages. All while being hammered with deadlines and mailroom and press workers anxious to get the paper out on time. I remember the timeless newspapers tradition of typing “30” at the end of copy. That traces back to the Western Union in the 1800s and meant “end” or “no more” on telegrams. A cool bit of trivia.

I can still see composing room workers cutting-and-pasting while putting together pages. They were craftsmen. They followed page guide sheets, “dummy” sheets as they’re called — most likely after some editors. Pages were then handed off to the press team. I recall the smell of newsprint. Of that feeling of sheer satisfaction of hearing the presses start. Another day, another newspaper.

I love the feeling of someone saying they still have a story I wrote taped to the refrigerator door. Of the sheer delight when youngsters are told their photos will appear in our newspapers. Of newsroom camaraderie: all of us in our building taking pride in putting out such an important part of our community, virtually day in, day out. Of the frustration of seeing errors after and not before a newspaper is published. Of angry readers who do not understand what public record means. That is, if you are involved in a police action, i.e., arrested and during court appearances, i.e. convicted and fined and/or sentenced, your name will appear in our court and cop blotters. Actually, any court action supported by tax money gets reported. Such as real estate transactions and divorces. You get it. We don’t pick and pull any, either. There are many folks who will vouch for that. 

Foremost, I remember those who helped along the way such as Gayle Beck and Cathie (Shoop) DeFazio, managing editor predecessors at the Salem News who helped mold me into the newspaper man I became. Of an old wire editor named Ralph Fratilla, a consummate old school throwback who hummed while he worked. Of the support of the venerable Ray Dean, who guided the Salem News editorial department way before I ever came along. But always kept in contact with encouraging words.

I am grateful to have interacted with coaches such as Gary Ricker, a man’s man. Also, George Spack, Joe Rottenborn and the late Bing Newton — all very successful coaches and, most importantly, sturdy men of faith who were positive role models for student-athletes. It isn’t always about Xs-and-Os and final scores. Life is more than that. Good coaches and good teachers bestow that on the young. 

I am thankful for receiving various writing and photography awards over the years from my peers. I am thankful for a newspaper ownership having faith in appointing me as your editor.

I am truly thankful for current editorial staff members: Mary Ann Greier, the finest courtroom reporter an editor could have; news editor Kevin Howell, my traffic cop; sports editor and assistant editor Ron Firth and Mike Burich, respectively; Bobbie Huston and Tony DiCesare, graphics and page designers; and, certainly, reporters Morgan Ahart, Stephanie Elverd, Kristi Garabrandt and Stephanie Ujhelyi. It takes a particular person to have the kind of grit, thick skin, shoe leather and work ethic to be a journalist. I have been blessed for decades to have such staffers. Thank all of you, past and present.

“Telling Our Stories” is the theme of National Newspaper Week being celebrated through Saturday. Today marks, umm, let’s see, 45 years and six days into my full-time career. And counting. Granted, our industry has been hit hard by overall economics and a swarming digital age. But your Columbiana County Newspapers are entrenched firmly and will remain vibrant parts of all of our communities. 

Again, thanks to our readers, past and present, for supporting your newspapers and realizing fully the importance of a Fourth Estate — watchdog — presence. We will continue to keep telling stories.

Now, has anyone seen my car keys?

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