She was a journalistic tsunami

This is a sad story.

This is a mad story.

This is a story that never should have been written, but I feel compelled to tell it, not so much for those who read it, but for me, to just get it off my chest.

It was June 2004 when I took a job at a small daily newspaper in York, Nebraska. The newspaper was not doing well, so, before I accepted the job, I had a heart-to-heart discussion with the company's vice president. I didn't talk about the newspaper. Rather, I talked about people, both the employees we had and, more importantly, the people we needed to add to the team to turn the operation around.

Long story short, I got the green light.

I needed sales representatives, reporters, an editor, and people who could help us capitalize on the emerging internet possibilities.

But there was one person, Melanie, a current reporter who was working two jobs, and I wanted her to devote all her time to our business. I asked her several times, but she was reluctant. She was the one person who had every journalistic talent imaginable. She cranked out an enormous number of stories, had the respect of the community, and was a team player.

I needed her to be an integral part of our team.

Asking her every few weeks wasn't working, so I begged. Maybe she felt sorry for me, but she finally agreed. My job for the next 11 years was simply to get out of Melanie's way. She was a journalistic tsunami, rolling in like a tidal wave, excited to tell all of us what she had just covered. Then there were the times she rushed in like a whirling tornado and we would ask, "What's up?" And she would reply, "I can't tell you ... but it's big. It's really big!"

To old newspaper people like me, we often say those rare individuals have ink in their veins, but not her, she was ink, all ink, all the time.

She got to work very early in the morning, and she left very late at night. She was the only person who could be typing a story, staring at her computer screen, with fingers blurring in warp speed, and be having a conversation with me at the same time. How? I have no idea.

The police would call Melanie, wanting to know if she would like to go on a drug bust with them, knowing she would report the story fairly and accurately. The local fire and rescue department asked her to be part of a training exercise, by being strapped to the top of a grain elevator, and jumping into a bin of corn, which has taken the lives of many farmers over the years.

I moved on to a different newspaper in our chain in 2015, but Melanie and I stayed in touch. We went through three different companies who bought then sold us. I struggled with new ownership as they reduced employees, had mandatory leaves, and froze hiring, all of which hurt the abilities of our newspaper to do what we did best.

I know Melanie was going through the same, but she didn't miss a beat, still possessing industrial quantities of energy, still a whirling tornado of news.

Two weeks ago, she once again received honors from the Nebraska Press Association, that time winning the Best News Writer of 2022. Come as a surprise? Nope, not to me. After all, she was the best news writer in the state, hands down.

Then, one week ago, people with the new corporate owner, who had never met her, fired Melanie. Well, technically, not fired, but RIF'd (reduction in workforce).

They didn't have the courage to meet her face to face, so, from a far-away place, they told her she had just one day left, all that just two weeks before her 25th anniversary with the paper.

To call those corporate people cowards is the understatement of the year. I am outraged, helpless, and I feel sorry for the newspaper, the readers, and the community. Journalists like Melanie are once-in-a-lifetime reporters, and she was let go like a used Kleenex tissue.

It's no secret that many newspapers are struggling, but the value of excellent journalists, in this day of biased stories or misinformation, should be heralded, not let go.

Newspapers remain important. They must be, Our Founders' very first amendment to the Constitution guaranteed a free press, knowing the citizens must be well-informed if our republic was to survive. Newspapers record our history every day. They are our local governmental watchdogs. The only thing more obvious than a good newspaper is a bad one.

So, my message to the growing consolidation and destruction of newspapers by corporate America is to wake up and get creative, innovative and keep our newspapers relevant. And, for Heaven's sake, don't fire your best and brightest talent.

I am sad for Melanie. I am mad at her owners. I am hoping -- but not holding my breath -- that those corporate bean-counters come face-to-face with their mismanagement tactics and take local journalism into the 21st century by investing in their future instead of directing their demise.

Greg Awtry is the former publisher of the Scottsbluff (Neb.) Star-Herald and Nebraska's York News-Times. He is now retired and living in Hubbard Lake. Greg can be contacted at gregawtry@awtry.com.