Fifteen years and one more story
By Staff
Leada Gore, Editor
Fifteen years ago this week I started my career in the newspaper business. I was six months out of college and things were looking grim. My decision to change from an education to history major suddenly seemed like a not-so-great idea and my parents were wondering what exactly I planned to do with my life.
I was wondering, too.
I sent out hundreds of resumes and had two – count 'em, two – interviews. Neither interview was anything I was really interested in but both offered a paycheck and that was something I found very interesting.
On a whim, I decided to contact a local newspaper. I had sent them a resume and after talking to the editor, I sent them another one. I went in for what I thought was an interview, only to be shown a desk and given my first assignment. My editor later told me he hired me because he knew I didn't know anything about newspapers and therefore didn't bring any bad habits along with me.
My first story was about a housing development. It was about six inches long and took me a week to write. It's awful. But, for some reason, they kept me around. My position was solidified a couple of months later when I was sent to cover the shooting of a former University of Alabama football player. The incident occurred on the side of the interstate and, not knowing any better, I pulled right up to the scene and hopped out of the car. I walked up and interviewed the police, all of whom told me I wasn't supposed to be where I was. They answered my questions though and it made for one heck of a story. I discovered a secret of journalism: act like you're supposed to be there and things will work out OK.
During the eight years I was there, I covered everything from haunted houses and Christmas gift drives to three back-to-back capital murder trials. Following one of those trials, I was interviewed by Connie Chung. Another time, I found myself the target of a particularly nasty pair of talk radio hosts. That one bothered my mother, but it gave me some pretty thick skin.
In November of 2000, I moved to Hartselle. Things are different here. There aren't any capital murder trials and, so far, no former football stars have been shot on the side of the interstate. Life moves at a slower pace.
But what I quickly realized was that people are people. The things that matter to "big city" people matter to "small town" people, too. So, I traded trials for stories on inspirational teachers and swapped shootings for information on how the opening of the smallest store can have a big impact on a community.
These 15 years have moved so quickly and so much has changed. Still, a good story is a good story. And, sometimes, just acting like you know where you're supposed to be can get you far.
