One long and trying week

Last week's edition was the first in almost three years in which my column did not appear. 



To some readers, I apologize. To others, I appreciate your words of thanks for the omission.



Last week was also the first week in the past 500 (or more) in which I did not publish a Highland County newspaper column, and the first week in the past 1,000 (or more) in which I did not publish a newspaper column in southern Ohio.

The streak, as it were, is over. Let's start a new one.

For those who have noticed and asked, the reason was a relatively simple one: I could not write a column in time for our press deadline. I just didn't have it in me.

Some weeks bring more stress than others. Some weeks bring death to a loved one or friend. Some weeks bring serious injuries to a loved one or friend. Some weeks bring illness to a loved one or friend.

Last week brought all three. A regular River Downs trifecta.

When I sat down at my kitchen table to write about any of these separate incidents – or anything else, for that matter – I just couldn't do it.

But on a brighter note, as one loyal reader did point out, we should have HCP sports editor Stephen Forsha write more often in our Opinions section. I agree. His column last week on Andy Griffith was a gem. He has another great column in this week's sports section.

* * *

My good friend Jim Surber writes a great column this week about the "news" of our ancestors.

Jim finds the news reporting of a century (or more) ago rather fascinating.
If you haven't already done so, check out Jim's latest column and you'll read about this from Lynchburg in 1881: “The horned frog from Texas, brought here by Wm. R. Gaddis, died last week. It lived nine months without water or food of any kind.”

Jim surmises that "Today, that action would have most likely elicited an investigation and probably charges against Mr. Gaddis."

Jim also recounts in exact detail the newspaper stories of two attempted suicides in 1881.

"There are no withheld details or statements that anything 'remains under investigation,'" Jim said.

Wouldn't you know, some jackass editor (this guy) 131 years after the fact, edited the names out of Jim's column. Even though both parties failed at their attempts at suicide, and even though both are long since deceased, I just thought it best to let those names remain unpublished in 2012.

As I explained to Jim, "Please do not take any offense, but I did a 'political correctness' on the names of the attempted suicides. Not that I was overly concerned, but with my luck, someone's great-great-great-great-granddaughter would probably call and complain. In the days before telephones, faxes and email, it must have been a lot more difficult to yell at your local newspaper editor."

Then again, maybe society was a little more reserved – and a little more intelligent. After all, it is what it is.

* * *

My family knows I love Mike Royko. I grew up reading the Chicago newspaper columnist; and while we're somewhat of political opposites, I always admired Royko's tenacity and spirit in holding public officials accountable. In that regard, there were few in Royko's league.

This week I received a copy of "A Life in Print" by Richard Ciccone, one of Royko's former editors. It was quickly apparent, too, that being one of Royko's editors was not for the weak of heart.

From the inside cover we read, "When Mike Royko began his career in journalism in the 1950s, newspapers were the sole providers of information, uniquely individual, thriving or failing on their abilities to report faster, write better, and laugh louder than their competitors."

Those of us at The Highland County Press can relate – at least on the laughter.

"For the final third of the 20th century, no American newspaperman was as prolific, entertaining, poignant, vicious, reflective, sentimental, probing, courageous, contrarian and provocative as Mike Royko," Ciccone said.

"Royko was the writer that others copied. He was the reporter who could not be beaten, possessing wits that defied imitation and providing inspiration to almost everyone still trying to practice journalism by the rules of fair play, decency, and that elusive search for accuracy."

(My long ago college journalism instructor, Jim Rohrer of The Cincinnati Enquirer, would have added the word "fairness" to Ciccone's previous quote.)

Ciccone goes on to say that Royko would "despise today's world of digital and electronic reporting of rumor or hearsay. … Royko was the voice of the Chicago that worked hard, paid taxes, and spanked their kids when they needed it."

We can only wonder what Royko would have done when his competitors disregarded the rules of "thriving or failing on their abilities to report faster, write better, and laugh louder than their competitors."

In today's Internet age, it's so easy for those less scrupulous to simply employ the "copy and paste" technique. Fortunately, when such occurs, it's not lost on our friends and readers.

If someone copied and pasted a Royko column, he'd either go the route of Pulitzer Prize-winner Leonard Pitts (go to Google and type in the phrase Leonard Pitts plagiarized – there's a Hillsboro connection, too) and tell the sorry SOB to "grab a dictionary and find your own words" or, more likely, he'd just punch the offender right in the mouth.

(The next time it happens to this paper, I'll either opt for the latter approach or just be grateful that anyone would think so highly of us.)

Like Royko, I enjoy confrontation most of the time.

One thing is certain: No one wrote with Royko's honesty, his toughness, his passion, and his humor. That's all you get from Richard Ciccone. If you are a fan of newspapers – what they were before this embarrassing era of "capital management corporations" as owners – then you'll enjoy "A Life in Print."

I've always thought of Mike Royko as the workingman's William F. Buckley. Ciccone confirms it.

Rory Ryan is publisher of The Highland County Press.