10/03/2025
Here is a column I wrote recently on my Substack site. It's long for Facebook, for which I apologize to those who wade through it, but given the occasion, I decided to share. It's not so much the first part that I think is worth reading, but the column that comprises the second part. Anyway, thanks to all to who take the time and trouble to check it out and more so to all who have read my articles and commentary over the years.
REFLECTING on 50 YEARS as a NEWSPAPER REPORTER
First articles appeared in September of 1975
It was 50 years ago this month (that’s 1975 for anyone who might be math challenged), I wrote the first articles that entitled me to call myself a newspaper reporter. Not much of one, but a reporter none-the-less.
The stories were published in a fledgling weekly, located in my hometown of Fowlerville. The attempt did not last long, but (as events transpired) launched what has turned out to be my now long career in community journalism and brought back a weekly newspaper to our community. Unfortunately for us fledglings who were making the attempt—or maybe fortunately—the successful paper belonged to the Livingston County Press in neighboring Howell who, while we were in operation, was ‘the competition.’ To explain what happened, just before we published our first issue, they put out one ahead of us. In this case, Goliath got the better of David.
My initial articles were of the general-interest variety, and I served as my own assignment editor. I had written off and on since high school: the usual term papers but also essays in an Independent Writing class I enrolled in my senior year. Shortly after graduation I started putting out a newsletter of political and social commentary (a regular firebrand was I) but later learned to write more objectively and dispassionately in the philosophy courses I took at Michigan State University, got the Hemingway bug and tried my hand at short fiction and outdoor pieces, and even cobbled together a couple of poems.
When our weekly folded, it appeared my time in journalism was going to be short-lived. No other writing prospects beckoned. However, a few months later I secured a part-time job with the County Press and its Fowlerville weekly—one that paid—soon became a fulltime staff writer, and have, except for a couple of brief pauses early on, been toiling away in the newspaper vineyard ever since.
My new position involved covering the village council and school board meetings, a strike at our local manufacturing plant, a contract dispute between the school board and teachers, the Fowlerville Fair that summer, the high school sports games, and I even offered the editor an occasional column on hunting and fishing, local history, and my viewpoint of what was happening in the community. I won’t say what I produced constituted a fine wine, but it seems most of the readers were able to stomach it.
Put a different way, I’d found my calling, both in covering news and writing commentary.
‘Local’ is a key word in describing what I’ve mainly reported on over the years. Even so, I’ve tried to reach outward, beyond this confine, with the news stories I’ve done and to also challenge myself write commentary on issues of a broader nature. As they say, no man or town for that matter is an island, complete upon itself. We’re connected to a broader realm and perspective.
While most of my career has been centered in Fowlerville, early on I did get assignments around Livingston County, worked briefly as a stringer for the Lansing State Journal, and served an assistant editor for two sister newspapers in Barry County—the Reminder and The Hastings Banner. The former is a countywide free publication that mainly offers community news, while the latter is a subscription broadsheet that covers governmental meetings, the police and courts, and more hard news.
For the past 40 years I’ve also wore the hat of publisher which, with a small weekly, means doing all things necessary to put out the paper each week and to do so with a margin of profit. I guess, given how long I’ve been at it, this has also been a calling.
The upshot here is that I’m still a newspaper reporter a half-of-century after the first byline. Hence this reflection.
Recently, I came across the following column—a piece I’d written nearly nine years ago. Although the specific details are different, the general premise remains relevant. With a few changes in detail, it could have been written yesterday, or even 50 years ago.
* * *
The news business is usually a combination of the commonplace and reoccurring, but also of the unique and unusual. It also involves reporting on the headshaking and the heartbreaking.
Earlier this week, sitting at the computer with my emails on the screen, I kept busy formatting the news releases that were being sent to the Fowlerville News & Views. Intermingled with this ongoing task were a couple of articles I needed to type and a trip out of the office to get copy from an advertiser as well as to secure my lunch.
Most of the emails came from familiar sources—the schools, library, churches, and publicity chairs for local clubs and organizations.
But there were two exceptions. The Livingston County Sheriff Department sent a press release about an area man who was arrested on suspicion of pointing a gun at a woman, also from the area, while they were driving on the I-96 freeway near M-59. It was described as a “road rage” incident by Sheriff Mike Murphy.
We have this continuous debate about “the right to bear arms.” I own a shotgun which I keep in a closet. No one’s threatened me, and it’s been a few years since I’ve gone hunting, so the firearm is getting dusty.
My thought, upon reading the report from the Sheriff’s office, is that not everyone has the temperament to carry a gun. I also thought of how terrified the lady must have been.
The other news release came from Livingston County Animal Control about a dead dog that had been discovered by a local citizen in a dog-food bag. The beagle had been left beside Vogt Road, north of Fowlerville, and had apparently died from starvation.
Animal control officers, responding to the call, found three young beagles running around the area. They were described as being “emaciated” from the lack of food but are now recovering. A $5,000 reward has been offered for “for information leading to the arrest and conviction of those responsible.”
You wonder ‘why’ someone would let these animals reach that stage when they could have left them at the dog pound or contacted the Humane Society for help. Maybe they let the situation deteriorate to the point where they were worried that, if they did seek help, they might face prosecution.
Now, though, if authorities find out who did it, there’s little doubt the person will be charged.
As for the heartbreaking category, this occurred when a lady came to our office with a ‘Card of Thanks’ to put in the paper. Her six-year-old granddaughter had died in late October. The little girl, a student at our elementary school, had suffered from leukemia.
“She had been cured with a bone marrow treatment,” her grandmother told me. “But ensuing complications had proved too much.”
The woman had sent me the girl’s photo via the email; however, she had decided to bring in a typed copy of the ‘Card of Thanks’ to the office. With her was another granddaughter, a one-and-a-half-year-old sister.
The grandmother, acting on behalf of the family, wanted to express gratitude for all of the acts of kindnesses that people, including the granddaughter’s classmates, had shown during her illness.
“We wish there were more than words to express how blessed we’ve been having all of the support you’ve given,” they stated. “Some of your children made cards and pictures. Some families sent prayers and gifts. You gave her a smile. You let her know she was never forgotten.”
Words—inadequate though they seemed—were all I had to offer. I expressed my sympathy and acknowledged that, while most of us have lost or will lose loved ones, nothing is worse than the death of your child or grandchild, especially at a young age. It’s hard to find consolation when we consider all of the potential and possibility which, with their death, will never be realized.
The lady replied that the family would remember their loved one in different ways. “That’s all we can do now,” she said. Then looking at the little girl she was carrying, the grandmother added, “We won’t forget her, will we?”
Few of us expect—or even want—a magic wand to relieve us of our grief or take away the tears and sorrow. On the contrary, they are evidence of the enormity of our loss.
Most of us, facing this terrible moment, just want someone to share our anguish, someone to sympathize with and understand that, right now, our life is not normal.
At this moment, I did my best to share and sympathize and understand.
A newspaper serves many purposes. There are the reports of the headshaking incidents like road rage and animal cruelty and a lot of routine information on various community events and happenings—the commonplace and reoccurring.
But a paper can also give a grieving family a way “to thank all of the kind, wonderful, generous people” who stood by their little girl and tell them how much that caring attitude and those words of comfort have meant.
I guess there are a lot of reasons I’ve remained a newspaper reporter for all these years—and still am. Seeing this column again reminds me of ‘why’.
