Photo by: Adam Hammerman
Three years, over 50 coworkers, 100 stories and 2,400 phone contacts later, it’s time for this Clarion editor to turn in his notepad.
There were times when I awaited this day like Christmas morning – thinking it would never get here – and now, here I am, my Gmail inbox stuffed to the brim and my bedroom covered with Clarion and Best Of DU production materials, in a Clarion jungle trying desperately to get the time back. So much so that I’ve pushed off my very last Clarion deadline, one that I’ve known would be coming since I became editor-in-chief Winter Quarter 2011, until this very last minute.
In the most perfect way, however, it is this last-minute rush that truly encapsulates what it means to run, and work for, a newspaper. For the past 36 months, my life has been a series of Mondays all blurring together, since that is Clarion Production Day (and forever will be, in my mind), when the paper is produced and put to bed. Every other day of the week has been a preparation for a Clarion Monday, when phone calls, meetings, emails, photos, interviews, headlines, edits, tweets and even Facebook messages come together in one ultimate package: the University of Denver Clarion student newspaper. It is a week-long process in which deadlines exist every day, and one must stay in never-ending communication with at least one other person on staff. I can’t remember what it’s like to spend a Monday – or Sunday or Tuesday, for that matter – not thinking about the Clarion. The paper has been hard-wired into my DNA.
Can you imagine what that’s like, living for Mondays? Mondays that, despite the universe’s best efforts to make you live for the college weekend, which begins three days later at DU, are the climax of your week? Mondays that start at 8 a.m. and don’t end until 2 a.m. on a good night? I already know the answer: You can’t; only other Clarionites can.
Many of my Clarion Monday memories have been spilled in ink, on the pages of newsprint that may circulate the DU campus, the Clarion office or even my parents’ basement. You may have read them, but not all of them.
There are so many aspects of the Clarion that no one can understand unless they’re in the thick of the production – and my fondest memories of this period of my life, especially the last 15 months, during my tenure as Editor-in-Chief, are ones you’ll never read about. Not even now. For the first time in three years, I’m withholding some information from the pages of the Clarion and keeping it for myself; like in my favorite book, “Frederick” by Lio Lionni, I’m saving my Clarion memories so I can add warmer colors to my Mondays when they inevitably become blue.
What I will say is this: everyone involved in the Clarion production process has been a pleasure to work with. They have made the late nights and the early mornings worth every minute that I should be sleeping but am not. They have made me laugh to the point of tears (Adam, most recently), cry to the point of laughter (Nick, less recently) and rethink the person I want to be after spending every waking minute of my life with them in these three short years.
I would have liked to list each and every one of you by name and why I’ll remember you and your impact on my life, but, alas, our Clarion family has grown so big that even if I had four pages to fill, it wouldn’t be enough – truly a dream realized. However, there are a few people that I absolutely must mention, either by name or by title, because they are what have made my Clarion Mondays so energetic, exciting, interesting and fulfilling. In short, they have made Monday my favorite day of the week.
To the friends I somehow convinced to share their Mondays with me: Claire, Mike and Nick – the fact that you were able to take me seriously, and respect me even, when I was your boss was a true testament to our friendship. Thanks for wanting to spend time with me when I wasn’t forced to wear my Clarion cap too, especially when I needed it the most – whether at Jordan’s, in our kitchen or at Pinkberry. You are the most sincere friends an editor could have.
To my other friends, including my ever-loving parents: for putting up with my Clarion responsibilities, for all of the times I’ve been late to something we’ve planned because of work, had to take a phone call or been distracted by my wonderfully useful smart phone’s mobile email capabilities. Your patience for me is something I’ve always noticed but seldom thanked you for. Now you have my full attention. Thank you.
To the professors, especially in the MFJS Department, that are sympathetic to me juggling newspaper-man responsibilities and firing off emails in the middle of a lecture: the times you’ve understood me missing your classes because of exhaustion-induced illness over the years is innumerable. And always appreciated. I tip my journalistic pen to you.
To all of the Clarion section editors, photo editors, copyeditors and web editors, both old and new, who I have worked tirelessly week by week: seeing you grow as leaders, designers, journalists, photographers and, most importantly, people has been one of the most rewarding parts of my tenure. My favorite part of Clarion Monday is the moment we gather in the Underground for our 5:30 meeting, laughing, listening and voice-cracking to each other (okay, maybe that last one is just me). I will hold each of your influence on my life close to my heart, even those of you who helped mold me early on. Know that, should you ever need me, you can call, text or email me, as I have contacted you in the past for an assignment or Clarion request – just promise me you’ll omit all of the oxford commas first.
To Dylan, who now becomes the longest-serving member of the Clarion staff: thanks for your quiet strength and your unending work ethic, big guy. The younger Clarion members are looking to you for experience and advice, so be sure to share your wealth of knowledge with them in the office and on the ultimate Frisbee field whenever you can.
To Anita and Manthan, the new leaders of the Clarion: there isn’t a pair of people on this campus with more potential! I can’t wait to see what changes you bring to the Clarion come this fall. Remember what Steve and I have taught you and what you can continue to learn from each other, the staff and the Clarion herself and before you know it, you’ll be signing off from your own last Clarion Monday this time next year. Cherish the time now; it goes all to quickly.
Finally, to the one man who has been the pillar I’ve leaned on for three years: Steve Coulter, the Mike Campbell to my Tom Petty and vice versa. It’s hard to think of the Clarion and not think of this guy. Steve, you’ve been the most understanding, longest-serving friend I’ve had in college, though it feels like much longer. We’ve seen each other through many classes, life events, relationships, ups, downs and sideways. You were there for me from day one at the Clarion – when I considered you my rival! – until now, when I consider you the brother I’ve always needed. Let’s face it: you’re the one person I can spend 14 consecutive hours with and not want to beat with a keyboard, so thank you for matching my passion, character and dedication for life and for what we’ve created together letter by letter. I swear on my AP Stylebook that, for the rest of my days, I will continue to be there for you when- or however you may need me. I can only hope we end up at the same graduate school, because it’s hard to imagine studying journalism without you.
Now, to the moment that took me 1346 words to get to: reclaiming my Monday nights. I’m still not fully ready for it, but a deadline is a deadline and it’s 2:38 a.m. Thanks for reading what I’ve written – now or any time in the past three years. Goodnight… actually, good morning.
