RIP, Dear Friend

I learned the passing of a dear friend Wednesday, after what appears to have been a lengthy, slow and agonizing demise. I also learned only a few friends were around for her at the end but now the news has spread near and far, people are flocking to say their fond farewells and wonder, what if anything could have been done to prolong life.

Of course, I'm talking about The Clarke Courier, a 140-year-old weekly newspaper located in Berryville, VA. I had the honor of working part-time for the paper back in the late 80s and early 90s, becoming Sports Editor by default.

Like many businesses in these trying times it was hard trying to find or keep a client base. In newspapers, that base was fellow businesses and their advertising dollars or the lack thereof, that seems to have been the final blow.

The editor at the time, Val VanMeter, let me have free rein of the sports department (how much damage could I do when on a good week I had one whole page sans ads (126 column inches) and if I was really lucky and the only high school had several teams doing well, an extra half-page. I learned to barter with Louie Ebert, our General Manager and head of the ad department as he was the one who ultimately let me have my space.

Val also humored me by allowing me to occasionally write a regular news article (auto wrecks and fires were big ones) and on election nights, she let me help write the actual local election story.

But the biggest appeal to working at The Courier was working side-by-side with my wife, SisIggy, who was the paper's general assignment writer. Sis went with me on many a local high school athletic event where I took the necessary stats needed to produce a 15-inch story, and she - with camera in hand - taking action shots for the lone sports page.

Several years into the gig we even took our oldest son, Heir I with us, strapped in a backpack as we walked the football sidelines.

Val always had a summer picnic at her house for all the reporters and staff. She even invited back those who had gone onto better gigs and at one of these affairs we decided we decided to call ourselves TWITS (I don't know if anyone knew why then and, 20-plus years later, I know they don't know now).

We stopped having them in the mid 90s as our core group left but now the paper has had its swan song maybe its time to bring back the summer outing as there are more twits - the staffers who put in long hours for the past nine months - only to wake up and find themselves out of a job.

At least, we left voluntarily.