I HAVE BEEN A NEWSPAPER EDITOR for thirty-one years. I have edited papers in Rice Lake, in La Crosse, in Duluth — which is technically Minnesota, but the sensibility is Wisconsin — in Appleton, and in a place called Millhaven, which no longer exists as a municipality and which I have no particular feelings about.
I have never, in thirty-one years, opened a paper before. This is the first time. And it is a strange feeling. Not bad. Not precisely good. More like: opening a door you have been looking at for a long time without ever trying the handle.
The door is open now. Here is what I see.
I see a good town. I see a serious town, which is different from a solemn one. Serious towns do their work. They show up. They build things and then maintain them, which is in some ways harder than building. I have lived in serious towns and I have lived in places that were towns in the administrative sense but which had, as a community, given up — which had decided, collectively and without a vote being taken, that the effort was no longer worth it. This is not that kind of place. I can feel the difference, the same way you can feel the difference between a building that’s been cared for and one that hasn’t.
Now: I have some concerns.
My first concern is the Mill Street sidewalk gap. I walked that sidewalk this morning, as part of my practice of walking every street in a new town before I write about it, and there is a thirty-foot gap between the factory entrance and the bus stop that is currently a tripping hazard. Public Works Director Czerwinski says it is “on the list.” I have been a newspaper editor for thirty-one years. When someone says something is “on the list,” what they usually mean is that the list is very long and the thing they are referring to is very far down it. This should not be the case with a sidewalk that connects a factory where 150 people will be arriving starting Monday morning to the nearest public transit stop. I am going to continue writing about this sidewalk until it is fixed. Consider this column inch one.
My second concern is Alderman Dale Przybylski. I want to be clear that I have no evidence of wrongdoing. I am an editor. I deal in evidence. I do not have any. What I have is a feeling, the kind of feeling a newspaper editor develops after thirty-one years of covering local politics — a certain reading of the body language of a man who has been tabling the same motion for six weeks and who showed up to the first council meeting in what appeared to be a very new suit. I do not say the suit is evidence of anything. I say it is notable. I say further that Kowalczyk’s Furniture Barn, which advertises in this newspaper, has a first-quarter sales record that Alderman Przybylski has, by various accounts, praised as “excellent for a new business.” I am sure this is a coincidence. I am noting the coincidence. I am putting the coincidence in the newspaper.
Mr. Przybylski has declined to comment, which is his right. He has also, according to my sources, called this office twice since the column’s existence was announced to inquire “what exactly Rod Black is planning to write about me.” My reply to those inquiries, conveyed through my assistant, was: “The truth, in column inches. As many as required.”
My third and final concern in this inaugural column is: the coffee at Tuesday’s council meeting. I attended as an observer, as is my right as the press. The coffee was from a machine that I believe has not been descaled in several years. Alderwoman Haertl has already moved to address this. Good. I will be watching.
I am the editor of this newspaper, which you are holding, or reading on the internet, which is the same thing now. I want this town to thrive. I want this newspaper to serve it. I want to be here long enough that when I eventually retire — which will not be for at least fourteen years, unless my back gets worse — I can say that the town I covered is better for having been covered. That the scrutiny helped. That the light we shone was useful light.
This is a good town. I have some concerns. Keep reading. We’ll figure it out together.
— Rod Black
Editor, The Internet Tribune
[14 column inches]