So On, and So Forth

You know that performative corporate bit wherein important meetings are kicked off with an “icebreaker”? Like: “Share something true about yourself that sounds like a lie.”

Here, then, is mine: My wife and I live in the same house we bought in 1994. We sold it when we moved, then bought it again when we came back. Talk about your full-circle moments!

My life in this profession hasn’t been the smoothest of rides. I started my career at Miami New Times in 1989. (Full disclosure: I had zero experience. To this day, everything I know about this job I learned by doing it.) I worked at the paper until 1998, then left for similar papers in Minneapolis, St. Louis, and New York City, before returning to South Florida in 2019.

Along the way, I’ve been sold (once) and fired (twice). And the profession itself has been slammed around pretty good in the past quarter-century or so.

Anyhow.

I couldn’t have known this when I came (or left) the first time — in fact, it has only recently sunk in: I am very deeply attached to New Times — far more so than I am to any of the other papers where I’ve worked. 

For one thing, it’s where I began learning how to be a journalist, and where I discovered, for the first time, a job that would demand everything I put into it and then ask for more. A double-edged sword, for sure, a certain “for better or for worse”-ness about the whole enterprise. But a huge part of the “for better” half of the equation stemmed from the voice New Times carried into the community, a voice that intentionally distanced itself from what mainstream media outlets offered. 

To this day, it remains an approach to reporting and storytelling that positions New Times as enthusiastic celebrators, rotten-tomato throwers, and shit-stirrers. We’re also great fans of whimsy. We respect our readers’ intelligence, and they tell us, in so many words, that they appreciate our effort.

For me, it boils down to us doing the best we can to understand the complexities of this fragile, humid, kaleidoscopically colorful region — a place that’s home to far more than its fair share of astounding beauty and outright fuckery — and to share what we’ve learned with you.

(And to never rule out whimsy.)

I do it because making sense of where I live makes me feel more like part of a community. It sure as hell isn’t for the money.

One of the many Things I Say Too Often is that the job of an editor often boils down to asking writers stupid questions — or, to put it another way, asking them a lot of questions, the answers to many of which they think are self-evident. I don’t blame them. Still, if the topic is broached, I say: Tough shit. We want readers to feel smarter after reading our stories, not dumber because we didn’t make things clear.

Which brings me to this: On December 31, I will end my journalism career where I began it. I’m retiring.

[Editor’s note: The above is an extreme example of an ostensible journalism faux pas known as “burying the lede.”]

Looking ahead, New Times will commence a search for a new editor-in-chief. (Know anyone who might be a good fit for the job? Urge them to apply!) In the meantime, the current staff will continue to do their jobs (and without me slowing them down!).

It doesn’t take a genius to state categorically that this profession is in a tough spot. People don’t trust “the media,” and in many cases, they’re right to harbor doubt. But if you’re reading this, chances are you trust us, because you know we do our homework and then call it like we see it.

So please keep supporting independent journalism.

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot over the past few weeks: In the nearly 40 years since Miami New Times published its inaugural issue on November 1, 1987, the paper has had only three editors-in-chief: Jim Mullin, Chuck Strouse (who replaced me as managing editor when I left in 1998), and me.

I bring this up because I’m tremendously proud to have been a part of that continuity. But also because “change is good,” like all truisms, attained cliché status for good reason. And because I’m equally proud of the current editorial staff, all of whom are committed to carrying on the paper’s legacy as an independent voice in the community.

I cannot adequately put into words what a joy it has been to work with them, nor how grateful I am to them all for their dedication to the craft.

Nor how much I will miss collaborating with them. There’s so much dire subject matter — now more than ever in my career. And that stuff tends to wear one down. If you know me, you are well aware that I am the polar opposite of an absolutist. But I’m a firm believer in not taking oneself too seriously — especially when it comes to Journalism with a capital J. Many of the stories you read in this paper came about because a roomful of writers and editors thought it would be fun as hell to write them.

I don’t foresee that changing.

As for me, I’m going to find out if it’s possible for me to go an entire day without seeing or hearing some crazy thing and thinking: “This is totally a New Times story.” Including Karen’s and my honeymoon in 1991 after we got married at Miami Beach City Hall.

How lucky can one man get?