I was just reading a City News Centennial booklet left on my coworker’s desk and getting teary-eyed while reading the stories from former City News reporters. The passion for the stories, the odd people, the cops, the editors and the bars that followed. It made me really sad about the way things are now. I can’t jump in my car and drive to the scene of a shooting. I have to call the tight-lipped cops, post it on the web before the other websites get it. There’s something so tragic about it. So impersonal. I miss the Chronicle on days like today. It’s weird to be a major daily newspaper and miss my college newspaper, but there was so much more intensity there. We all really cared. Hmmphh.
I applied to my college newspaper on a whim. I had a terrible internship at one of the local broadcast news stations, where I was supposed to work from 5am until 10am on Saturday and Sunday for an entire semester answering phones. My roommates were never in bed before four in the morning, and my room was directly under the living room. I knew it would never work.
I strolled into the college newspaper the second week of production, applied as a copy editor, took the editing test and pretty much bombed it. When I sat down for my evaluation and looked at the editors to learn about how I did, neither of them would look me in the eye. I thought I was toast.
A few minutes later, I learned I got the job.
I may have been the last line of defense as a copy editor, and didn’t hang around as late on Friday nights as the section and managing editors, but I, too, loved my days at the Chronicle. Hell, I was a magazine major, but there was just something so special about being a part of the college newspaper in the year I was there.
Everyone in the newsroom got along. Everyone cared about each other. Everyone cared about journalism. We won a bunch of awards. And a great time was had by all.
I wish I could relive those days.
