I never thought I would write this column — but now that I am, I wish I had done it a month or so ago. Might not have changed anything, but at least I could have launched a half-court shot.
When I walked out of The Robesonian on March 27, my head in a bit of a spin as I was no longer employed there after almost 24 years, I didn’t think this would be a possibility. But I was then asked by Publisher Denise Ward if I would check in once a week, and after a bit of thought, I decided why not. I’ve got something now I have not had in 36 years: time.
I want people to know that my and The Robesonian’s separation was amicable. I had been talking about retirement openly for a few years. I remember once in the aftermath of Hurricane Matthew, as our building was being renovated for a first time, telling someone that I threatened to quit every day. Denise chipped in, “And sometimes twice a day, morning and afternoon.”
Truthfully, continuing to put out a newspaper that I could be proud of, doing so with dwindling resources, was exhausting for someone with 22,866 days of tread. The challenge that is before The Robesonian requires a level of energy that I am not sure I could continue to provide.
Back to that in a bit.
As for this column, after the invitation was extended, I began to ponder what would I write about, and instead of limiting myself, I decided, whatever was on my mind, with one exception — politics, and certainly not local. Been there, done that. I will leave that to others — with this single caveat, that I retain the right for an occasional exception.
My hope is that those who read it will find it to be informative, entertaining, a bit off the beaten path, and humorous — worthy of the three minutes spent consuming it. I have said this often when people compliment me — or blast me — on anything I have written, whether it be about the adventures of a cat named Boots, or calling out local corruption: “I don’t expect anyone to agree with me when I express a point of view. The compliment is found in that person’s willingness to read it.”
So back to that half-court heave.
I had some ideas on how The Robesonian could thrive in advance of COVID-19, and survive once it hit, but time ran out. My largest regret, one that will linger, is that I exited with The Robesonian on the shakiest ground it has been on since my first day as its editor, Nov. 4, 1996. My hope had been that I would leave it strong, and I could gallop off into the sunset on my white horse. I take little blame for that not happening. It was, as they say, circumstances.
The Robesonian, as should be apparent, is fighting for its life during these difficult times. I can tell you, I left behind good people, dedicated folks who want to deliver a quality product, and serve as an important part of this community in many ways, including as a watchdog. The problem is there are far fewer of them today than eight days ago, and certainly far fewer than in November 1996.
The sad story is not unique to The Robesonian, but is the reality of the industry, which — in my mind at least — has done pretty much everything wrong since the invention of the internet.
What The Robesonian needs now is your support. It needs people to subscribe to it, it needs people to advertise, it needs people to submit items of interest for publication, and it needs people to be understanding of the challenges it faces as it tries to stake out a new normal.
I am reminded of what a former publisher once told me: “A community gets the newspaper it deserves.” We will find out now what Robeson County deserves.
