The first real job I ever had was at a newspaper.
I was twenty years old, maybe twenty-one, and I worked
for The Marylander and Herald in Somerset County Maryland.
It was, and remains today, one of the oldest newpapers in
continuous publication in the United States, currently
published as The Somerset Herald.
The editor then was as fine a gentleman as you'd find
anywhere, James Byrd. He's been a newspaperman all of
his life, and he lived the job. He read constantly,
sitting in a messy corner of the pressroom, and if you
wanted to make a film of a country newspaperman, you
couldn't have found a more fitting subject.
I learned a lot from Mr. Byrd. It was during the Watergate
Era that I worked there, and he put those days in perspective
for me. He did that for everyone.
Perhaps the most important thing I learned from Jim Byrd
was the role of the editor in a publication. In a newspaper,
no matter what size, an editor does more than manage a staff
and direct their activites. The business department of any
newspaper works for the company, but good editors, and the
reporters and photographers who work with them, work for the people.
They're needed, and badly. There's too much going on for
any citizen to keep track of much of it, and communities
like ours have to depend on someone to keep an eye on
things for us.
There's too many politicians for anyone to actually KNOW
many of them, but an editor does, and he gets a feel for
where their hearts are.
There are too many issues clamouring for attention for
anyone to get a grip on them, but a good editor sees them
for what they are, and directs coverage to those that are
important, and gives little stock to those that are not.
And there are too many people telling too many damn lies
about this or that, trying to hide this dirty secret, or
promote that sweet deal, and unless you've been playing
poker with these folks for a lot of years, you don't
know who's straight, and who isn't, or who can be trusted.
Our city lost a good editor this week, and we'll suffer
for it in the future. Mel Toadvine knows this
town like nobody else, and when he walked out of the
front door of The Daily Times, he took their eyeballs
with him.
There isn't a town within a day's ride of the big berry
that didn't benefit from Mel's help, and there are hundreds
of families, people, schools and businesses who found a
friend at the Times when they needed one.
The computing community on Delmarva owes Mel their
gratitude as well, for he was the only one with nerve
enough to call a spade a spade last year when the DMV
BBS debacle took place. It took a lot of nerve to do
that, but Mel knew his job well, and he knew the meaning
of responsibility.
But Mel isn't dead, thank God, although Cliff Mister is. And so,
we fear, is the sense of goodwill and community that once
surrounded our local paper. Just one of the things that gets
cut in corporate downsizing, I suppose.
There's a funny thing, though, that comes with being
good at what you do. You live it. It's a part of you,
it's who you are.
Mel didn't stop being our town's editor when he
walked out onto the street last week a private citizen.
He couldn't stop being that, even if he wanted to.
The truth is, there's a revolution going on, and
the proof of it is that you are reading these words
on your monitor instead of in a newspaper. All news
media, newspapers especially, are caught in the vise
grip caused by electronic publishing. They're fighting
for survival. From our view, they're not thinking very
clearly.
Our town didn't lose Mel last week, it gained a new
player in the high-stakes poker-game we call the media.
Our gain, their loss. Dealer takes the hand.
March 24, 1996 Charles Paparella The Shore Journal
cp@shore.intercom.net