Orientation chats….writing without words….copy editing for the devil….a sports section senza sports….opinions editor as a satirist….and an executive editor without shoes.
The Clarion has been my home for the last three years. My very first day at DU was inoculated with the heart and spirit of the Clarion—my orientation leader and Editor-in-Chief, Taryn Allen. Her cool and confident exterior convinced me to give the newspaper a shot. I reckon it had more to do with the influence of former journalist Dr. Vincent Fitzpatrick—the high school English teacher who taught me that words were more than letters.
Intimidation raked through me on the very first day. I came in late to a room full of bright young writers overflowing with creativity and fire. I stood in the back near the door, hoping my OL would give me a nod but was shuffled into the opinion section because the editor seemed kind.
Ellie Lockhead, the Opinions Editor at the time, acted as a friend and an advisor. She saved me from many embarrassments and indirectly showed me that I was not cut out for serious editorials.
After writing almost every week for the entire school year, I was fortunate enough to be hired by the wonderful Hannah Branit and Victoria Valenzuela as a copy editor. It was not the position I initially desired, but I felt so indebted to the organization that I was willing to do whatever they needed.
Only in hindsight do I appreciate my time as copy editor. Branit was a brilliant leader who allowed me to do as I pleased, whether that was resurrecting a failed crossword or injecting satire into a sober paper.
Branit teamed me up with the brilliant Grace Ganz to make an investigative team that rivaled the intrepid dynamic duo of Batman and Robin. Our little Woodward and Bernstein effort uncovered student struggles and interrogated campus safety in several outstanding pieces.
At the onset of the pandemic, I converted to Sports Editor—a defunct position in a world without sports. I made due with what existed at the time, even writing an analysis of the NFL draft from the perspective of a non-football fan.
It was at this time that Kiana Marsan took over as Editor-in-Chief. Fortunately, she switched me over to Opinions Editor—as I was not overly qualified for sports. While I found satire to be a pleasant pastime, it was in Gonzo that I found the light. I wrote a few draft articles in that brilliant idiosyncratic Gogol-esque skaz narrative style, but none could quite capture the brilliance of the quintessential outlaw journalist that was Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.
In the winter, the real work began. Marsan promoted me to Executive Editor, which was a position I had always desired but feared would pass me by. It was in the peak of the frost and the early days of spring that I governed the Clarion as a ruthless second-in-command—or at least that’s how I pictured it in my head.
In reality, it was a momentous time that consisted of remarkable people and dazzling work. As News Editor, we had the diligent Tori Everson. She labored away on extremely detailed accounts and pertinent reports.
In the opinions section, Sara Loughran devised spectacular arguments and assertions regarding issues that faced DU and beyond. Arts and Life was dictated by the scholarly Roarke McDonald, who expertly devised criticisms for the art that bring joy in life.
My sports successor, Rachel Wright, kept the section alive and well during a tempestuous phase through her grit and determination alone. Our copy editor, the meticulous Conor Chapman, acted as a final bastion of correction in the Clarion’s robust critical system. But what would this system be worth without the dazzle provided by our aesthetic mastermind, Photo & Video Editor Peter Vo.
It was an exceptional team, but such quality can only be properly utilized by a strong and courageous leader. Marsan was the rock that the Clarion stood on. Her leadership was second to none. She ferried the Clarion through a turbulent time with the utmost poise and confidence.
But the moment for gratisfaction is over. While there may be despair in the departure lounge, there is joy as well. The American circus has ended, and my savage journey to the heart of the college dream has hit a wall. So here I now stand at the precipice, looking out on the chaos left behind. At the end, only four words come to mind: goodbye to all that.
Until I see you again,
Jake Anthony Gloth
Executive Editor Emeritus
