People contact the newspaper editor for a range of reasons

<p>The job of a newspaper editor has lots of layers. Editing is one layer. Others include writing, budgeting, news judgment and ethical decision-making.</p><p>Much of the rest is coaching, counseling, encouraging, mentoring, problem solving and continued training. A lot of that occurs with work colleagues, but a lot of it also is with members of the public. Building relationships and developing a broad understanding of community issues and events are major parts of the job.</p><p>The second installment of the 2nd Read podcast being produced by the Herald-Times newsroom features a conversation between me and my 35-year colleague Laura Lane about the job and my career. It’s produced by Bri Kirkham, one of the rising talents on our staff.</p><p>One theme that may be evident in the podcast: people contact the newspaper editor and the newsroom for many reasons.</p><p>Often they’re mad. Many times they have a good reason to be. We may have made a mistake in a story or failed to cover something they thought we should. They may be mad about an editorial on our opinion page or a change in something they are attached to, such as the comics. Little drives more calls to the newspaper than mistakes in comics, crossword puzzles or the television listings.</p><p>Changes in the Sunday comics resulted in one mad voice mail message from an 8-year-old who called those responsible “you jerks, you jerks, you jerks” and an off-color name. As editor, getting mad calls are an unpleasant part of the job. That should be no surprise.</p><p>But they are an important part of understanding the connection people have with their newspaper and the important role we play in their lives. We need to get things right; we need to respect what readers want us to provide them. I came to a truce with the 8-year-old critic when his father brought him and his siblings to the newsroom for a visit.</p><p>People contact the newspaper because they want and need someone to talk to. A newspaper editor should listen to those who call with problems or concerns that aren’t directly connected to what we do. Or those who just want someone to talk with.</p><p>I’ve written before about my friend Mabel, who started calling me when she was 80 years old and continued to call multiple times a week for the next 11 years. I didn’t know what a treasure she was during the first dozen or so calls, until she dropped this line on me: “The truth is a prism that shattered at the top of the world, and all you ever find are the shards.” To me that quote says a lot about the importance of seeking truth, even though it is often difficult to find in full.</p><p>When I met her son at her funeral viewing after she died at age 91, he told me she talked about our conversations. I hope she knew these editor-reader conversations helped me grow as a person.</p><p>Some who contact the newspaper are in a mental health crisis, though I often don’t know it quickly enough. One person who came to visit me at the newspaper wanted to talk about the people who were following her all over town.</p><p>We talked for close to half an hour and she left — less agitated than she arrived and seemingly stable. I’ve thought many times since that I should have done more to get her some help that day. The next morning she came back to see me, but I wasn’t here. She left without an outlet to talk with, drove two hours north toward Lafayette and got stuck in a traffic jam on I-69. She had a gun with her, and got out of her car to confront the motorist who was behind her. She shot and wounded that woman as she tried to run away.</p><p>My visitor from the day before thought the woman she shot was following her. It took acting on her demons to get her the help she needed, plus some jail time.</p><p>People call with problems for us to look into. We appreciate all those calls, even though often we’re not the appropriate place to complain. Sometimes the complainant wants us to write something to punish a business they believe didn’t treat them well. That’s not something we should or would do; that’s not our role.</p><p>Others want us to investigate complaints that have broader implications that could cause harm to large numbers of people, including government abuse that wastes taxpayer money. We look into many of them and they have led to important stories.</p><p>Some people don’t want to talk but simply want me to listen. One of them sparks bittersweet memories.</p><p>Bill Finch was a local lawyer who worked in city government and Congress for Frank McCloskey, a Bloomington mayor who became a congressman. Finch also worked in local development for the Cook Group. I talked with Bill quite often about community issues, even after he was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor.</p><p>But months after his diagnosis he started leaving me voice mails during the night. His long-time companion was a former H-T reporter, Jackie Sheckler. She told me Bill had taken to calling at night because he didn’t think he was sharp enough for conversation any more, but he still had opinions. One morning I got to work to a message that said (paraphrasing): “It’s 7 a.m., the sun’s coming up and it’s a beautiful morning. I asked Jackie to marry me last night and she said ‘Yes.’” They were soon married, just days before Bill died.</p><p>That’s a message I’ll never forget from one of the many great people I’ve met in this job.</p>