I am writing a column this week in place of editor Kellyn Brown, who left for the sunny beaches of Mexico over a week ago, pale-skinned and bright-eyed, and by this reading has now returned, a few shades redder and wondering where all of that glistening sand went. Welcome back.
Kellyn deserved a vacation. Anybody close to him knows the long hours he puts in, fulfilling duties and making decisions that do much to establish the voice and character of this newspaper, all done behind the scenes. His name only appears above his column and on the masthead, but all of the Beacon pages bear his influence.
When I was promoted to senior writer after Dan Testa moved east this summer, I understood that one aspect of the job description requires filling in for Kellyn as head of the newsroom when he’s out of town, which isn’t often. This past week and a half since he left for Mexico was my first attempt at pretending to be boss. The paper survived and nobody was injured. If mistakes were made, it appears they were manageable.
Kellyn, photographer Lido Vizzutti and I have been with the Beacon since its inception nearly five years ago. Kellyn and Lido actually assembled the office’s desks in the weeks preceding the release of our first issue on May 23, 2007. I arrived shortly thereafter and picked out my expertly crafted by-the-kit desk, like the guy who shows up to help his friend move into a new home at precisely and uncannily the exact moment after everybody else has just finished moving the last couch. And speaking of couches, it’s worth noting I was living on Kellyn’s couch at the time while I searched for a home in Kalispell.
In Kellyn’s retelling of the story, he saved me from the jungles of South America and took me on as a reporter. His general sense of geography is commendable, though some specifics have been sacrificed for storytelling’s sake. I was indeed living in Argentina shortly before accepting the Beacon job. But I was finishing my Latin American history degree in the crowded city of Buenos Aires, far removed from the jungles.
Jungle or no jungle, however, it is true that he took a gamble on a rather shabby-looking, long-haired 22-year-old with no journalism degree. Apparently my writing samples from various magazines and newspapers were sufficient, because I can’t say I had “hire me” written all over my face when I interviewed for the job. In fact, I can’t say what he saw on my face at the time, beyond a strange little patch of facial hair.
So here we are, nearly five years later. We’ve lost a few of our original founding members in the newsroom but we’ve taken on writers Molly Priddy and Dillon Tabish, who are not only vital employees but also valued friends. And there’s Justin Franz, who is currently riding out his “summer” internship. He doesn’t seem ready to part ways and we’re not exactly rushing him out the door.
Titles have changed and positions have shuffled around. Now that I’ve cut my hair and shaved, they even let me put “senior writer” on my business card and play boss when Kellyn’s gone.
But despite these changes, I believe the Beacon remains the same in crucial ways as it was in 2007. Our goal of being a voice for the community has not changed, though hopefully that voice has become more distinct and mature. And I would venture to say, if we have succeeded in clarifying our voice, much credit can and should be given to the person who saved me from the jungles. You can look for his name in the masthead, but you’ll find him everywhere else in the paper too.