Brian Rowell

ESCANABA — June 1, 1987.

That was my first day at work at the Daily Press. That was 38 years ago. A long time ago now that I sit here and think about it — a lifetime ago really. As they say, all things must pass and after nearly four decades the Daily Press and I have decided to part ways.

Here’s a little perspective on how the flow of time changes things. When I started working for the Daily Press:

– Escanaba’s mayor Mark Ammel was in my oldest daughter’s grade school class at Holy Name..

– Delta County Administrator Emily DeSalvo was in my son’s grade school class at Holy Name.

– The current Escanaba City Hall and Library didn’t exist

– There was no Escanaba Walmart either — I liked shopping a Woolworths

– I wrote about people in the court report who were arrested for marijuana

I remember the first day I worked here. It was also the first time I ever sat in front of a computer. They were rare then. I assumed it was like a typewriter and you had to manually advance the machine after each line to type the next line of text. My new co-workers had a good laugh. I felt like a boob.

My wife was still back at home packing things up with our three kids. I called here that night and told her there was no way I was going to make it here.

Joan has always been my rock, my love, and a far better person than I. She reassured me things would get better, to just give it another day.

After 38 years I think I got the hang of it.

I guess I have a lot mixed emotions about a large part of my life coming to a close. I’ve been trying to sort things out for several weeks now, but I think the answers for me are much further away than the number hours I have left here.

In looking back, I think I did alright as a journalist. I’ve got a wall full of Associated Press awards that I look at when I try to convince myself of that. I started out as a staff writer here and had the police and court beats for many years. Later, I became managing editor and for the past 15 years I have been editor.

I really don’t think people can truly grasp what it takes to be a part of this profession. The hours are long and odd, the pay isn’t stellar, and holidays, weekends and other times when others are having fun are often spent on the job. There were many weeks over the years when I saw the people I work with more than my family.

News is uncontrollable. And for me that often took the place family dinners and special events. News doesn’t keep a schedule. It just happens — and when it happens the job of a journalist is too be there.

No, I’m not crying the blues. I loved being a journalist. For me, working on a breaking news story was like crack. I couldn’t get enough of it. Bringing that story to print by deadline gave me a rush no drug possibly could. I love it.

I have been blessed with a very understanding family. My wife Joan and children Audrey, Adam and Stephanie were always understanding about the downside of life in journalism and the toll it can take on family life. They have always been my rock. Love you guys.

When I started doing this journalism thing, I was just a stupid kid from the U.P. I’ve been fortunate to have some great teachers along the way that shaped my career.

My journalism professor at Northern Michigan University was Jerry Waite — a former copy editor with the Milwaukee Sentinel. Jerry believed in teaching the basics of what you needed to know when your feet landed in a newsroom. He taught us everything — obituaries, how to cover government, page layout, ethics — you name it. We spent three weeks alone studying how to write effective headlines.

Jerry taught me how to be a journalist. I think the most important lesson that he relayed to me was “Learn a little bit about journalism and a lot about life. You’re not going to be writing about journalism, you’re writing about life.”

Peggy Bryson was my editor here at the Daily Press for a number of years. Peg was like a mom to me and the other staff writers that were fortunate to work under her. Peggy would put you in line when you needed it. She was also there to lend support and some motherly nurturing when it was needed most.

Most of all, Peggy was an exceptional journalist who always took in consideration the ethical issues behind a story. She believed in being tough, but fair. She defended the public’s right to know with more determination than any journalist I’ve encountered in my career.

Over the years, Peggy’s family and mine grew close. Joan helped with daycare for four of her grandchildren — Sam, Madeline, Sierra and Bryson — and we love those kids (now adults) as if they were our own.

Peggy is gone now and its a rare day that I don’t ask myself on the job “What would Peg do?” When I became editor, Peg would call me on occasion and yell at me for all the wrong things I did in the paper. I loved it.

Miss you Peg.

Dave Andrews was the city editor in my early days here at the Press. Dave did most of the copyreading and also covered the city of Escanaba. I was fortunate enough to have my desk facing Dave’s during those years. Dave was one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. He had a immense knowledge of so many things it was hard to comprehend.

Dave was master wordsmith and the best copy editor I’ve ever worked with. If Dave was copyediting your story, you knew it was going to come out better.

I remember Dave challenged the accuracy of an person’s address I had in a court report once.

I asked him why he was so damn sure it was wrong.

“He replied, “because it would be in the middle of the bay.”

I never questioned him after that.

I have had so many reporters under my charge over the years, quite frankly I lost count. I just seem to remember the very good ones and the very bad. One of the things I’ve tried to do over the years is to pass on the knowledge and experience my mentors gave to me to them. I hope that whether they continued in the journalism field or not that some of the lessons they learned had an impact in their lives in some way.

Whether you believe it or not, I have tried to be fair and unbiased over the years. To me, that is the ultimate goal — to present the reader with the facts and let them come to their own conclusion. That, I believe, is the ultimate goal of journalism — to lay out the facts, the truth. It speaks for itself.

As you can imagine, being a journalist is not the profession to have if you want to make friends. Over the years, I’ve probably made more than my share of people angry for one reason or another. It come with the job.

Once I was call a stupid liberal and a dirty conservative by two different people within an hour over the same material I had printed. At that moment, I knew I must be doing something right.

Well, my time left here is growing short and this column way too long.

I do want to take a moment to recognize Ilsa Minor, my news editor and right hand during this last stage of my career. Its been a pleasure to see her blossom into the exceptional journalist she has become. Ilsa has decided to move on to other things and I know someone with her talents will be successful in whatever she chooses to do.

I would also like to thank all my old friends in law enforcement, the judicial system, government and the many, many friends I have made here at the Daily Press over four decades.

Thank you for all the fond memories.

And now for a moment of blatant self-promotion. Although I am no longer with the Daily Press, I am still in the job market. If you have use for a slightly worn 65-year-old that has a way with words, please look me up.

For now, I’m going to take some advice from Ferris Bueller — “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

See you around…